We’re silent for a few moments before he breaks it. “Do you ever wish our parents hadn’t adopted you?” he asks and I almost choke on the pizza. His hands immediately go to my back rubbing it soothingly but it does nothing to ease the ache in my chest over his words. Is he serious?

“Wha-what…are you saying?” Tears find my eyes and I do my best to swallow them down as his eyes widen in horror.

“No, no…fuck. I just heard how that sounded.” He shakes his head. “Not how I meant it. I just mean…if you and I had met under different circumstances.”

I’d thought from time to time how my life would have differed if I’d been adopted by a different family. A less affluent family. One where I had no siblings. One where there was no James. It was hard to imagine because the Calloways are my family. I am a Calloway. I love them wholeheartedly and I know the feeling is mutual. I wasn’t a child that didn’t feel like she belonged even when a few kids at school tried to tell me I didn’t.

I’m Gabrielle Calloway, but yeah…sometimes it sucked that it meant I was sister to James Calloway, thereby making him very off limits.

I blink my eyes a few more times, still not exactly sure how he means, but I go with my assumption, trying my best not to assume the worst or hope for the best. “Sure, I guess. Maybe we’d be friends.”

He chuckles. “Gab, we’d be more than friends and you know it.” He pours us two more shots and the liquor combined with his words causes a flutter between my legs. I chuckle awkwardly and try my best to come up with a witty reply but come up short. “You don’t think so?” he responds.

“I…I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

“Never mind.” He shakes his head and stares out the window where I see the snow has started to pick up slightly before sweeping his gaze back to mine. “Want to take these?”

We do so and I’ve officially crossed into intoxication despite my efforts to remain in control. He gets up to stoke the fire in front of us and instantly my fantasy from yesterday comes to mind. A giggle leaves my lips and when he turns back to me, he frowns. “What?”

“I have this fantasy of losing my virginity in front of a fireplace.” Instantly my hand flies over my mouth and I wish I could take back that projectile word vomit. “I mean…just in general. Not here obviously. One too many romance novels,” I ramble and I start to fidget with my hands which is something I do when I’m nervous. James’ eyes flit to them and a smile pulls at his lips.