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I head over to the fridge to get breakfast started, and my croissants are ready just as she walks into the room.

“Fuck, my wife is gorgeous,” I say as I take in her navy dress today. It makes her skin glow and her hair look lighter.

She smiles. “So’s my husband.”

I grin at her. I can’t help it.

“It smells delicious in here.” She slips onto one of the stools at my counter, and I slide a plate across to her.

“Coffee?”

She nods.

“Black?”

She shakes her head. “Cream and sugar, please. Splenda if you’ve got it.” She stands. “I can get it. Just tell me where you keep it. I should know these things if I’m living here.”

“Good point. Cream is in the fridge, and the Splenda is in the pantry.” She heads to the fridge first as I pour us each a cup of coffee, and she locates the cream in the door.

“This is the most organized refrigerator I’ve ever seen,” she says.

I guess I’m a bit of a neat freak. I like the labels facing outward. I like stacked containers with the food I’ve prepped in them.

Some guys hire personal chefs or order in for every meal, but not me. I find chopping vegetables relaxing.

She heads to the pantry next, and she disappears into the walk-in area.

“Walk straight back, and it’s on the third shelf down on the left,” I call. I take a bite of my sandwich, and it’s as delicious as always.

She returns with her packet and a smile, and she stops short and tilts her head at me. “Did you want some?”

I shake my head. “I drink mine black.”

She takes her first bite of my breakfast creation, and she closes her eyes and moans.

“Jeez Louise, this is fantastic,” she says, setting down her croissant. “Okay, so you’re the official house cook.”

I laugh. “What’s your contribution?”

She shrugs. “I’m not really into cleaning, but I can fold a mean load of laundry.”

“Laundry it is. I have a cleaning person who comes twice a week, so we’re good there.”

We chat while we finish our croissants, and she carries her plate to the sink, rinses it, and places it in the dishwasher before she leaves for work. I head in about an hour after her, and she meets me down in the lobby. Everleigh is standing at the reception desk when we get off the elevator on her floor.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Maddox,” she says both formally and sarcastically, and I don’t know my sister-in-law very well just yet, but I’m pretty sure I can see the smoke of anger pouring out of her. She’s pissed that I’m here. She’s pissed her sister left to come live with me. She’s probably wondering if I took her sister’s virginity yet.

And even as I think about the fact that these two are sisters, I realize I’m now legally an in-law to the entire Bradley clan.

Including Dex the assclown Bradley. Including Madden, the eldest. Including the next one down that’s a car brand that’s escaping me right now. Dodge? Volkswagen? Oh, wait…Ford! I think it’s Ford. And the ballplayer, and the younger football player. They’re all my siblings-in-law. Two of them are here in Vegas, but the rest are scattered, thankfully.

I’m not sure how much more of this family I can take.

I like Ivy, but the glare her sister is pinning on me would’ve made a past version of me throw in the towel thinking that it’s just not worth it.

But I’m the present version of me, and we already decided we’re going to sell this thing and maybe fuck on the side and have some fun together over the next year.

I don’t give two flying fucks what her siblings think about that.