Robyn
When Francis was promoted to the District Attorney for New York, he did the most Francis Duval thing I'd ever heard of: rented a yacht for the weekend.
"To get away from society," he explained at family dinner.
"Can't you just lock yourself in your room?" Ariadne asked, sincerity in her voice.
"Yes, but then I couldn't invite you all."
"Oh, so we are invited," Christian drawled.
"Begrudgingly." Francis rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.
"Bugiardo," I grinned. Liar. "You want us there."
"Please," he scoffed.
"You totally do," Ariadne chuckled. "It's okay, we won't tell anyone you're a softie."
"Oh, I just remembered. You're not invited, Ariadne," Francis deadpanned.
"Too late. I'm already mentally deciding what to wear," she shrugged, unaffected by Francis' empty threat.
"I need a new swimsuit," Bella frowned.
"You absolutely do not need more clothes, papillon," Francis said.
"I need one too." I tapped my chin.
"Sounds like a shopping trip in the making," Ariadne grinned.
"Something you three do best." Damon smirked behind his pint.
Christian pressed his fingers to his closed eyes, shaking his head. "I don't understand why you can't just have people come over, take your measurements, and send clothes straight home."
"Because not all of us live in four-figure tailored Kiton," I smiled.
"You don't like the suits?" He quirked an eyebrow, bumping his knee into mine.
A blush rose to my cheeks. Christian was so classically handsome–symmetrical and proportioned without a single fault–that it didn't matter what he wore. It would look like it was made for him.
"I like the suits. But you could afford a little color in your life."
"Didn't know your art skills passed on to wardrobes," he said.
"Sounds like you're asking for my help." I pressed my knee back into his, slowly realizing we were the only ones talking at the table. "Don't you think, Bella?"
"Wrong person to ask," she said, carefully looking between the two of us. "My husband lives in black."
"Well." I blew some hair out of my face. "None of you are allowed to wear suits this weekend, black or otherwise. Dress code is casual."
"Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to dress in things other than suits," Francis drawled. This was true, he didn't grow up in wealth and was the most normal one of us all.
"So do I." Damon leaned back in his chair. "But I'm not sure about Christian. His idea of casual is a suit without a tie."
"That won't fly," I tsked. "No suits, Christian."
"Or what?" He tilted his head to the side.
"I'll have to strip it off you," I shrugged before quickly biting my lip.
Every single pair of eyebrows in the room shot up.
"Is that a promise?" He played, dark amusement in his eyes.
Being a delicious flirt came naturally to him. Being a victim to his charms came naturally to me.
"That's not what I meant," I said quickly, feeling the heat course through my veins.
"Sure it wasn't." Francis smirked from across the table.
"Definitely packing tuxedos now," Christian murmured, looking at me with a lot more than friendship in his eyes.
"Christian," my brother said sternly but couldn't hide the amused tone in his voice.
"She started it," Christian grinned, falling into the same playful man I remembered. "I'll make you a deal, Robyn."
I raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"You let me know what colors you're wearing and I'll match you," he said calmly, but it didn't hide the intensity in his eyes.
"And if I decide to wear bright sunflower yellow swimsuits?"
He visibly winced. "I guess I will be in bright sunflower yellow."
"How adorable," Bella cooed. "It's like prom."
"Hm," Francis continued. "Anyone remember what happens on prom night?"
Damon awarded Francis with a punch to the arm that didn't look gentle.
"Sound good, Ms. Hale?" Christian asked me.
"You've got a deal, Mr. Ryder," I nodded, sticking my finger up to make him promise so he couldn't back out of it. Albeit begrudgingly, he obliged.
"What is this thing you two do?" Ariadne scrunched her nose, waving her hand at our intertwined fingers before I abruptly dropped my hand.
"It's a promise," I said simply.
"It's more than that," Christian said, staring at me. His inky gaze swept my face, reading as slightly hurt. "When we were younger, we'd make promises to each other all the time."
"Ones we were never allowed to break," I continued. "I'd promise to save him a seat when we all went to the theater, promise to keep a couple cinnamon rolls for him at my bake sales, promise not to tell Damon he snuck to my window at night–"
"I knew since the first day he climbed up there," Damon said dryly, a coy smile tugging at his lips.
"I did the same," Christian nodded. "Promise not to get into a fight that night. Promise not to drive when I was angry. Promise to give honest opinions about her art. Promise she'd always be my best friend."
"And have you both kept all your promises?" Francis raised an eyebrow.
"The important ones," I whispered, staring down at my hands.
"Yes," Christian said firmly, straightening in his chair.
My skin tingled under his scorching gaze and he pressed his knee against me, this time not moving away. The disbelief in my eyes was evident.
"I kept them all. I promised that you'd always be my best friend. I don't even know a better person than you. You were, through it all–when I snuck up to your roof to the years we barely talked and all the way to today–the best friend I've ever had."
A long moment passed in which I completely lost myself in his eyes. Awareness trickled through my skin when I realized no one was talking and everyone was looking at us.
Despite the inevitable Spanish Inquisition we were both going to receive from everyone at the table at some point or another, the next words left my mouth.
"You say the sweetest things, Christian Ryder."
"You're worth saying them to, Robyn Hale."
Christian
Keeping this color coordinated promise was starting to prove slightly alarming as I received a slew of texts the next afternoon at work.
Robyn: Just found the cutest lime green swimsuit. Assuming you have matching swim trunks? Should I pick some up for you?
Christian: I'll have to check the exact shade. Send me a picture. Of you in it, of course.
Robyn: Don't you have enough women in your spank bank?
Christian: Not you, though. Need you.
Robyn: Keep dreaming ;)
I already do.
Our friendship was delving into casual flirtation that made me giddy as a fucking teenage boy. Like it was the first time I was ever talking to a girl and every time she paid me an ounce of attention, I thought I would spontaneously combust.
Robyn: Thoughts on mustard yellow?
Christian: You're driving me crazy.
Robyn: You promised.
Christian: If I remember correctly, if I broke a promise, I'd have to kiss you. That sounds a lot better than wearing your egregious color combinations right now.
Robyn: First of all, I retracted that. Second of all, I cannot believe you typed "egregious" in a text. Third of all, you and I both know you have too much pride to break a promise.
I considered telling her that this was not at all true and if I thought she'd accept it, I would kiss her without even breaking a promise. I'd kiss her anytime she fucking wanted.
Ryd(er) Dies
Bella: Are you and Robyn texting?
Ariadne: She won't stop smiling at her phone.
My sisters were so nosy I was surprised they ever paid attention to anything other than my life. Despite that, I tried to suppress the shit-eating grin threatening to make its way to my face.
Ryd(er) Dies
Christian: None of your business.
Ariadne: I'll take that as a yes. You guys are cute.
Bella: Has someone caught feels, brother dear?
Christian: You two are insufferable. The bane of my existence.
Ariadne: Wasn't a no.
Bella: Who'd have thought that the sweet sunflower would be the one to melt the walls around your icy heart?
Ariadne: Sounds like the back cover of a romance novel.
Christian: You're being terrible friends by staring at your phones. Go swipe your husband's credit cards until they're completely disintegrated.
Ariadne: This weekend is going to be so fun to watch!
Christian: The fuck does that mean?
Bella: You'll see!
And see, I did. Not just see. Watched. Stared. Leered. Thirsted.
For all her tininess, Robyn Hale had a body to die for. Tanned olive skin. Smooth legs. Solid ass I wanted to sink my teeth into.
Thankfully, she didn't choose any horrible lime green or mustard yellow fits but rather, black, white, and red swimsuits that should have been illegal if they weren't worn in my fucking bed.
However, I did keep my promise and lived in matching clothes for the weekend, keeping my shirt off and internally bursting every time she stole a glance. It pleased me to no end that if not for anything else, I could still bring a blush to her cheeks when she was around me.
I should have looked away. I needed to look away and yet, I couldn't look away because she was so gorgeous, so unbelievably, sinfully, undeniably alluring that I couldn't even think of looking at anything that wasn't her. I didn't care what she was doing—taxes, laundry, juggling—I just wanted to look at those blue eyes, those twelve freckles, and that brown hair.
"Peel your eyes off my sister, dickbag," Damon drawled nonchalantly.
"You'd have better luck gouging them out," Francis deadpanned.
Shooting them a dry look, I took a slow sip of my beer as the girls joined us in the shade. Robyn tipped her sunglasses down and nodded as if approving that I wasn't wearing a suit.
"Not bad, Christian," she said coyly.
"Thank you, sweetheart," I returned calmly.
Her breaths visibly quickened ever so slightly, but she recuperated swiftly. "I'm afraid I was talking about the outfit," she purred.
"Ah." I looked down and flexed every muscle in my abs, reveling in the way her lips parted ever so slightly with the movement. "So, you're not impressed?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing I haven't seen before."
This awarded her with chuckles from Damon and Francis. Rather than be victim to more of this persecution, I laid my arms on the back of the couch and gave her a languid full body once-over with my eyes–the one I knew made girls lose their senses around me–before smirking. Her eyes narrowed but a smile tugged at her lips as she parked her hands on her hips.
"If you wanted to see parts of me you haven't seen before, you just have to ask, Robyn."
"Easy, killer," Damon chided, but I could not, for the life of me, give a flying fuck.
"I'll keep that in mind, Christian."
"You do that," I nodded. "And remember, whenever you want to find out—" exactly why no one will ever be good enough after I fuck you.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "—I'll let you know," she finished.
I winked and shot her a dazzling smile.
Robyn popped her gum, rolled her eyes, and grabbed my shirt off the couch next to me, pulling it over her head. My dick groaned at her covering up, but my heart sang seeing her in my shirt.
Something tugged at my heart weirdly when Reyna spilled juice all over herself and started crying out of embarrassment because she'd made her dress all sticky. It wasn't the actual loss of liquids that made my chest tighten–it was what happened after.
When it was clear that the "Ce n'est pas un problème, ma chérie" from Bella and Francis wasn't working, Robyn immediately spilled a whole glass all over her legs.
"Dio mio," she gasped, looking at Reyna. "How clumsy of me."
As if it were magic, the sobs subsided slowly. "Aunt Robyn, you spilled."
"Gosh, I know," Robyn pouted. "Now we're both sticky."
Reyna sniffled and looked at her aunt with big green eyes. "I'll help you," she suggested, brushing the tears off her chubby little face.
A huge smile crossed Robyn's face and she grabbed Reyna's little hand, walking her over to the open shower and rinsing both of them off. I understood what she did–reducing Reyna's embarrassment by embarrassing herself too. It was such a simple thing, but it made a huge difference with the two-year-old.
"See?" Robyn said in a gentle voice as she ran the spray over her little legs. "It's alright. Mistakes happen. We just have to be strong, clean up, and move on. What do you think?"
The now-smiling toddler grinned and kissed her aunt's cheek while they splashed each other in the water.
"She's a natural," Bella murmured under her breath, hand over her heart.
"Is it really that surprising?" Damon said, looking at his sister with nothing but adoration in his eyes. "She's been taking care of all of us for years."
"Christian, especially," Francis added helpfully.
I nodded. "Don't know where I'd be without her."
"What happened between you two?" Bella asked kindly, placing a hand on my arm.
A serrated breath escaped me as ten years ago flashed through my mind. I'd never forgive myself for that day, even if no part of me regretted it. I just wished Robyn knew that.
"A lot," I answered honestly. "Too much."
Ariadne flicked her gaze to me and asked, "How are things with the two of you now?"
I shrugged, but tension gripped my shoulders. "Good. Fine. We're friends."
"Ah," Francis mused. "But is that what you want to be?"
I looked at Damon, ready for some smart-ass comment, but he just looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.
"No."
"Then, what do you want?" He asked.
I'd never openly admitted it before, but Robyn Hale was the only fucking thing I'd ever wanted in my goddamn life. Before I could answer, she'd returned.
"There we go," Robyn said when she deposited little Reyna back into her father's open, kind arms. "Bellissima."
"You're magic," Aria whispered to Robyn. My sister didn't know just how much.
The whole thing with Reyna made my heart ache so heavily and I couldn't understand why. I never wanted kids. And now?
Fuck.
We played cards, drank beer, watched a now cheerful Reyna recite the ABCs on the table in the middle of us. We talked and laughed like we all had together for years.
I twirled strands of Robyn's light brown hair in my fingers like it was the most normal thing in the world, openly for everyone to see. Keeping my eyes away from the way her legs crossed over one another, the way the wind swept her hair without her permission, and the freckles that seemed to accentuate because of the additional sunlight, was a futile task.
I loved the way she smiled at me widely, touched me in a non I-want-to-be-fucked-by-you way, the way her eyes were glimmering in the sunlight, and how she genuinely listened to everything I had to say as if I invented words. Sugar cubes and honey were nothing compared to how sweet this girl was.
And most of all, she was shy around me. She'd tuck her hair behind her ear and a light blush would cover her cheeks whenever she caught me staring–which, let's be real, was always. She lit up the fucking room. Everything she did was beautiful. The way she sipped from glasses, cut her food, chewed, blinked, fucking everything made my chest expand. Her presence made me high. Staring at her for a minute was like smoking a joint–it filled me with the utmost euphoria that no drug could rival.
Robyn consumed my thoughts and made it difficult to focus on any kind of conversation that was going on. Which was why, after everyone went to bed, I sat on the highest deck, looking out at the New York skyline, still decked in a sweatshirt and casual shorts, to try to collect myself. But of course, as if she had an all-access pass to my brain, she materialized next to me, hugging a blanket around her body.
"What are you doing here? It's freezing." Her teeth chattered and she was still dressed in my T-shirt and shorts. It wasn't even that cold, but the tininess of her person would probably get blown away by the wind.
"Can't sleep. Just thinking," I said, pulling my sweatshirt off my chest and handing it to her wordlessly. She took it and threw it on herself. It was comically large.
When we were younger, she stole all my hoodies and jackets. I let her. They made her weirdly happy.
"What are you thinking about?"
I shrugged. "Everything. Nothing."
"Very detailed, thank you, cuore mio." She rolled her eyes, settling down next to me and throwing the blanket over both of us, huddling close to me like a penguin for warmth. Leaning back against the wall behind us, she closed her eyes.
"We used to do this all the time," I said quietly. "Outside your window."
A slow smile spread across her face. "The good old days."
"They really were."
"Do you miss it?" Her eyes were still closed.
"All the time."
Without thinking or asking permission, I laid down and threw my head in her lap. All she did was smile down at me, surprise and then warmth flashing through her eyes.
"We did this too," I said.
"When you would get angry," she said softly. "Are you angry?"
A moment passed before I responded. "No, I'm at peace."
"Peace is good, cuore mio. You deserve that."
"You make me feel peaceful."
She smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."
I wanted her to do it. To run her hand through my hair the way she always did. When she didn't, I closed my eyes. Then, I felt them. Strong yet gentle fingers running through my hair and the familiarity that came with it. The comforting, non-judgmental, soothing way her touch made everything painful go away.
"Do you ever think about what could have been, Robyn?"
Her breaths quickened.
"All the time," she whispered. Her hands tensed in my hair, but she waited a minute before she whispered, "Go to sleep, cuore mio. I hope you have the sweetest dreams. I'll be here when you wake up."
Not much time passed before my eyes shut, engulfed in the smell of berries and cinnamon with her gentle hand passing through my hair.
It was better than prom night.
It was the best sleep I ever had.