34 A Second Helping of Waffles #2
“Our boss?” Wolff asks. I can see the sweat beading on his forehead.
Zara crosses her arms casually, surveys us muddling through her carefully executed chaos with the air of someone watching a particularly amusing television show.
Calvin laughs.
“Oh, the tangled webs we weave,” Meredith says dramatically, peeking around Calvin from where she’s so far escaped notice. She’s holding Eldi carefully in her arms.
Wolff and Gemma speak over each other so that it’s impossible to make out their exact words, but the sentiment is clear.
The realizations hit Wolff back-to-back: He slept with his boss; his boss is my sister.
I’d find his panic more satisfying if it didn’t involve realizing my sister hooked up with Wolff.
And she did it using the laziest code name I’ve ever heard, aside from “Wolff.” Gemma didn’t expect any curveballs aside from the reappearance of her boss, and now she’s juggling several.
They both startle at Meredith’s presence—obviously they weren’t warned that we were bringing a notorious Kingsley sister.
Let alone all three. I grimace and slide protectively in front of Meredith and Eldi.
“What the hell are you thinking, bringing one of the Kingsley sisters here?” Gemma says to Zara. “Meredith Kingsley, are you serious?”
“You might want to check your math on that one. I count three sisters,” Meredith says snidely, pointing at first Zara and then me, mouthing the numbers.
I cringe inwardly, and I know it shows on my face.
This isn’t exactly how I wanted everyone to find out.
Even Zara shows apprehension, her smile fading.
“I dated one of the Kingsley sisters?” Wolff says, sounding half-impressed and half-horrified with himself.
“Hey, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We haven’t had that talk yet,” Zara says, but she winks at Wolff. “Sorry, didn’t actually mean to disappear on you. Family crisis, you know. Got a little tied up.”
“You slept with my sister,” I say through gritted teeth, glaring at Wolff.
“And you are a fucking Kingsley sister,” Wolff says, jabbing a finger at me. Calvin lets out a low growl, and I see the shadow ripple across him. I throw an arm between him and Wolff.
“And you fucked a Kingsley sister,” Meredith says to Wolff.
“Meredith!” Zara and I say in unison.
“Oh, all of you, calm down,” Gemma groans, squeezing the bridge of her nose like she’s getting a migraine.
“Fun fact,” Meredith says to Gemma. “Aside from Eldi, it looks like you’re the only one here who isn’t or hasn’t—”
I clamp a hand over Meredith’s mouth.
“I suggest we all sit down for some food and a chitchat,” Zara says decisively, and strides off toward our table without a backward glance.
“You’re the boss, apparently,” I snap, and follow her.
I’m more understanding of Calvin’s annoyance at my tendency toward secrecy after a headache-inducing unraveling of alliances and facts over waffles (and sushi for Eldi).
The rumble of engines in the distance draws my attention to the window.
Two dark figures come flying into the parking lot on a pair of motorcycles.
My heart lodges in my throat. Luca. I’m out of my chair before I realize it.
I hear the boy at the front saying something and a harsh voice growling something back.
And then Luca is striding inside, dressed in all-black leather riding gear, his dark hair helmet mussed, still shaggy but shot through with gray now. His face, too, is older, lined with years I’ve missed, but his eyes are still that bright piercing amber.
“Reggie,” he says simply, staring at me. He doesn’t smile, but his arms twitch as if he isn’t sure if he wants to hug me or strangle me.
“Luca,” I whisper.
“I thought you were still in there. When you left me the kid, I thought you went back. That you were still with Agency 51, after all this time. I thought you chose them. Why didn’t you contact me?”
I’m saved from having to find something to say when the second figure steps out from where he’s lurking in Luca’s shadow.
I gasp. He might as well be Luca’s shadow.
I could be looking at Luca as he was twenty years ago.
The resemblance is that solid. How easily he must have passed for Luca’s son all these years.
“You grew,” I say dumbly.
Luca snorts. “People tend to do that, Reggie.”
I can’t stop staring at the boy. And he eyes me with the same sharp intelligence I remember. He’s in his late teens, or at least wearing a body that appears to be a teenager. But the flash of his eyes, his canines when he grins, are exactly the same as Eldi’s.
“You grew up,” I say again.
He nods in confirmation as he says, “Pops here got tired of tandem motorcycle rides.”
“Don’t call me that,” grumbles Luca without much feeling.
But the boy isn’t listening. He has spotted Eldi.
He goes rigid and sinks to his knees. Eldi is staring at him, too, wide eyed and trembling.
The boy makes a soft noise, one I mistake for a sob, a cry at first. But it’s a strangely lyrical sound, otherworldly.
He does it again, and I realize he’s calling out to her.
Her name, her real name, perhaps. Eldi says only one word before she leaps straight into his arms.
“Orion.”