But maybe, Iris thought as she watched Harlow demonstrate the proper way to eat french toast (apparently there was choreography involved), maybe she could enjoy the nice things while they were here. Maybe she could let herself have this one morning of fancy breakfast and sisters who bickered and teased and cared.
Maybe that was enough.
"Iris." Sabrina's quiet voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Your brother. How is he really doing?"
The question surprised her. Not that Sabrina asked, but that she asked it seriously, like the answer actually mattered beyond polite small talk.
Iris set down her fork and considered her response carefully.
"He's..." She paused. "He's an idiot."
Cassidy snorted. "Yeah, we've noticed."
"But like, in the best way?" Iris continued. "He works himself into the ground for me. He always has. And he never complains about it or makes me feel like I'm a burden even though I obviously am."
"You're not—" Harlow started.
