Liam stepped forward smiling, grabbed my hand and said, “I guess I should call you my brother, right? Don’t worry — I won’t do that whole real-or-fake heir nonsense. From now on we’re real brothers. Let’s get along!”
As he spoke, he shoved a small kitchen knife into my hand and pulled me toward him as if to make me stab him.
On our first meeting he put a fruit knife in my hand and dragged me toward him. Was this some twisted Grant family welcome ritual?
I’m lazy but strong; I didn’t let him succeed.
He pulled hard but couldn’t move me, then blinked at me with a strangely clear look in his eyes.
He tried to pull again.
I pointed at the phone hanging from my chest and, sparing words, said: “Documenting life.”
Liam was startled and immediately let go of my hand.
Just then Sophia, who had parked the car, came in. Seeing the knife in my hand and Liam’s frightened face, her expression turned odd.
I couldn’t be bothered to explain, so I casually placed the knife back into Liam’s hand.
“Sis, you’re back!” Liam said.
“I told Mrs. Johnson to prepare oatmeal with blueberries for you. I’ll go get it.”
His face was full of ingratiating smiles.
“Not hungry.”