Four Of A Kind

Chapter 144: [3.46] The Spy x Family Blueprint

The key turned in the lock at 12:47 AM. Thirteen minutes early. A personal record considering the chaos that had become my existence.

The apartment smelled like instant ramen and lavender body spray, which meant Iris had been stress-eating while waiting up for me. Again.

I dropped my bag by the door. Kicked off my shoes. Spotted her immediately on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest, wearing one of my old hoodies that basically swallowed her whole. Her phone sat face-up on the coffee table, probably so she could track my location and confirm I hadn’t been murdered by paparazzi or buried in the Valentine estate’s rose garden.

“Isaiah Marcus Angelo,” she started, her voice taking on that particular tone that meant I was about to get lectured by someone eight years younger than me. “Do you know what time it is? Do you know how many messages I sent you? Do you know that I had to tell Mrs. Delgado you were working late AGAIN because she was two seconds away from calling the police to file a missing persons—”

I crossed the room in three steps and wrapped my arms around her.

Just. Grabbed my little sister and held on like she might disappear if I let go.

Iris made a surprised squeak. Her hands came up and gripped the back of my shirt.

“Zay?” Her voice had gone smaller. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not fine. You never hug me unless something’s really wrong or you’re about to tell me we’re moving apartments again.”

“We’re not moving.”

“Then what—”

“Promise me something.”

Iris pulled back enough to look at my face. Her eyes were the same dark brown as mine. Same shape too. Sometimes looking at her was like looking at a younger, female version of myself that hadn’t made all my questionable life choices yet.

“That depends on the something,” she said carefully.

“When you grow up. When you’re old enough to date and do all that relationship stuff.” I kept my hands on her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll marry someone nice. Someone with a normal family. Someone whose mother doesn’t run a billion-dollar empire and doesn’t have three identical sisters who are all varying degrees of chaos and manipulation.”

Iris blinked. Once. Twice.

Then she started laughing.

Not polite laughing. Full-body laughter that made her double over and clutch her stomach. She laughed so hard tears started forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she gasped between laughs. “Oh my GOD. You. You’re having a crisis about the Valentine sisters.”

“I’m having a crisis about YOU. Specifically about your future romantic prospects.”

“My future romantic prospects.” She wiped her eyes. “Zay. I’m fourteen.”

“Which is exactly why we’re having this conversation now. Before you develop terrible taste in men.”

“Says the guy who’s currently involved with FOUR billionaire quadruplets who may or may not be competing for your affection.”

Fair point. I hated when she made fair points.

I sat on the couch. Iris settled beside me, still wearing that knowing smirk that made her look way too much like Mom when Mom still gave enough of a damn to have expressions beyond “exhausted” and “absent.”

“I want to marry someone like Loid,” Iris declared.

My brain took approximately three seconds to place the reference. Then I remembered.

Spy x Family.

“A spy,” I said flatly. “You want to marry a spy.”

“Well not a REAL spy. Obviously. A guy who’s secretly capable and protective but pretends to be normal and boring on the surface. Someone who’d go to the ends of the earth to protect his family but wouldn’t make a big deal about it.”

She poked my shoulder. “Someone like you, basically. But not you. Because that’s gross.”

“Iris—”

“I’m serious! Loid is literally perfect boyfriend material. He can cook, he’s smart, he’s tall, he has a good job, he adopted a kid, and—”

“He’s also a trained assassin in a fictional spy organization.”

“Minor detail.”

“A MINOR DETAIL?”

“The important part is the emotional availability and commitment to family unit cohesion.”

I stared at my fourteen-year-old sister. Who was apparently using anime as a blueprint for her future relationships. This was my fault somehow. I’d failed as a guardian.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Let me get this straight. You want to marry a government operative who kills people for a living and maintains elaborate cover identities. But I’M the one with questionable taste?”

“YOUR taste involves four identical billionaires. So yes, my theoretical spy husband is WAY more reasonable than your actual situation.”

She had me there. Logically, objectively, she was absolutely correct. My current circumstances made zero sense when examined from any rational angle.

“The difference,” I said, “is that yours is fictional. Mine is my actual life that I have to wake up and live every day.”

“Then stop complaining about MY future husband and focus on YOUR current girlfriend situation.”

“They’re not my girlfriends. They’re my employers.”

“Sure, Zay. Keep telling yourself that.” Iris patted my knee like I was the child here. “So which one kissed you? Have you figured it out yet?”

My ears went hot. Betrayed me instantly.

Iris gasped. Pointed at me. “You HAVE figured it out! When? How? Tell me everything right now or I’m calling Mrs. Delgado and telling her about the mailbox AND the time you broke her garden gnome.”

“That was an accident.”

“TELL ME.”

I sighed. Leaned back against the couch cushions that had molded themselves to my spine after three years of sleeping on them. The ceiling had a water stain that looked like a giraffe if you squinted. I’d been staring at that stain every night for months.

“I haven’t figured it out,” I admitted. “But I think. Maybe. It might have been—”

My phone buzzed. Loud enough to interrupt.

I pulled it out. Unlocked the screen.

Cassidy had sent a message at 12:51 AM.

cant sleep. kept thinking about the quiz. what if i freeze during the real test? what if my brain stops working and i forget everything and im back to being the stupid valentine again?

The message sat there on my screen. Raw and vulnerable and completely unlike the aggressive girl who’d spent three hours coloring mathematical equations and declaring she’d destroy me.

Another message came through before I could respond.

sorry. that was dumb. forget i said anything. see you friday.

Then a third.

also i finished all the practice problems you sent. 23/25 correct. the two i missed were stupid mistakes. thought you should know.