I'm over this shit, Indigo thought to herself as she watched Saxon rip the pink wrapping paper off the umpteenth gift like the Hulk's sister. Only it wasn't Bruce Banner's sibling; it was hers. It wasn't her older sister's glee as she gushed over another set of pastel booties that had caused Indigo's current irritation. It was the glances and whispers she'd received while being the dutiful daughter.

Months shy of her thirtieth birthday—almost three months, to be exact—concerns for her health and well-being had shifted to interest in her relationship status and womb. No, her family didn't just outright ask her who she was dating or when she was planning to get pregnant. There were subtle hints cast here and there.

"Indigo just loves the single life," Aunt Maureen whispered to her cluster of church friends. There was a big nugget of truth in the statement. Indigo did love being single. Being able to do what she wanted, go where she wanted, eat where she wanted, and not have to let another soul know every detail of her weekly or daily plans was bliss for an independent spirit like her, but it was growing tiresome. She wanted someone to care about her itinerary and yearn to be added to her schedule permanently. She was also growing tired of being ultra-independent. She loved being a boss and taking care of business, but she also craved being pampered, adored, and loved.

"Still no ring," Cousin Tracy harped as she inspected Indigo's left hand after giving her a bear hug. That one hurt because even though Indigo prided herself on being an original, she had had an engagement ring picked out before the age of ten. It had happened during a simple stroll down the sidewalk of the River Oaks shopping district. She and her best friend, Tate, had walked behind their mamas, who'd talked about whatever adults talked about in the '90s, when a glimmer from a sizable cushion-cut diamond ring in the window of a jewelry store captivated all of her interest. Her mama calling her name snatched her out of her trance, but she never forgot the gem.

Sure, she had a bank account fat enough to buy herself the ring, but she wanted all the things the ring and the moment stood for. She wanted a man who would be her partner for their lives' journeys, and her past search to find one had left her with scars.

Presently, Indigo was on her third glass of wine and considered drinking straight from the bottle. Instead of risking a hangover, she snuck out of the living room. As she put distance between herself and the overcrowded room of cooing women, she felt the pressure fall off her shoulders. She sought refuge in Saxon's kitchen, the place she'd spent many evenings before buying a house in the same community, needing the sweetness of freshly baked desserts for a sugar high.

In all his six-foot mocha glory, her brother, Harrison, stood by the island, whipping pink food coloring into creamy, pillowy frosting. A platter of vanilla cupcakes sat in front of him, causing Indigo's mouth to water. She wanted to snatch one immediately but knew to wait. He hated when people tried his treats before they were finished. Presentation was everything to him. Ensuring people and things looked beautiful was something they shared.

"I thought you would've left by now." He judged the tint of the pinkness and decided to add some more into the bowl.

"I thought you weren't coming," Indigo groaned, climbing atop the barstool.

"I wasn't," he declared. Being the only brother had perks, but being the only baker in the family had drawbacks. "But Saxon ambushed me at the bakery and had a meltdown." He stopped stirring to give Indigo a fake smile. "So, I'm here. I had to cancel my date because of your sister."

"Our sister," she corrected before taking another swallow from the almost empty glass. "Wait! You had a date?" she asked, getting a nod from her little brother, the youngest of the trio. "With the Tinder chick?"

Harrison glared at her. "Her name is Tulip."

Indigo's nose turned up. "Like the flower?"

"And your name is what?" He snickered. "A color."

She flashed him her middle finger. "A bold, beautiful color with deep meaning."

The sunlight pouring through the window hit the red garnet in her ring. The lotus-shaped jewel had been a gift for her nineteenth birthday from Tate. It wasn't the most expensive piece of jewelry she owned, but its meaning was priceless.

Her hand gesture did nothing to erase Harrison's smirk. "It's a hippie name."

"You mean independent thinkers." Indigo shrugged, raising the glass to her mouth. "Who created their own paths, not giving a damn about what others have to say."

"Maybe that's why you're not married." He smeared frosting on a cupcake. "You're free-spirited at heart."

She didn't see anything wrong with being a free spirit. She'd never wanted to follow the crowd or do things just because everyone else was doing them, but this wasn't a matter of following the norm. She felt the clock ticking, and it wasn't in her favor.

And no one let her forget it.

"You're about to knock the hell out of twenty-five, and I don't see anyone giving you grief about getting married."

"Because I'm putting in an effort." He drizzled pink sprinkles onto the cupcakes. "Going on dates."

"And I'm what?"

"Checked out entirely."

"I'm just busy." She slapped the countertop. "I don't think you people understand how much work goes into being—"

"A boss." Harrison cut her off, and she rolled her eyes. "We all know that's an excuse. Mom's a corporate lawyer, and she still had time to hook Dad."

"Well, Baker Bob, Dad was a partner at the firm Mom worked at." She straightened herself on the stool, getting serious. "I own a shoe store, and I don't see too many straight, unmarried guys buying Louboutin and Jimmy Choo."

She had been propositioned by numerous married men, but that was neither here nor there. She didn't fancy being a mistress. Plus, she didn't like to share; having two siblings had given her that trait at an early age.

"For starters," Harrison said, wiping the sugar off his hands, "you can stop saying no when someone asks you out."

"So, you're telling me that I should say yes to the idea of hanging out with a stranger?" She shook her glossy curls. "Seems like fraud."

The last time she'd spent time getting to know a stranger who'd found her attractive and engaging, he'd turned out to be an actual scammer. He still wrote to her from time to time.

"It's not!" Harrison threw up his arms. "'Cause that's how strangers become unstrangers."

"Unstrangers?" She burst out laughing. "That's not a word."

He looked at her blankly. "That's not an antonym for stranger?"

"No. Not at all." She stared at him, making a mental note to buy him a thesaurus for his birthday.

He shrugged. "Well, fuck, I'm not an English teacher. Saxon is. All I'm saying is . . ." He pushed her hand away as she reached over the island for a cupcake. He handed her the icing-covered spatula instead. "Say yes to a date once in a while."

She twisted her mouth, savoring the sugar on her tongue.

"And don't overthink it," Harrison insisted while lifting the tray of identically frosted cupcakes. "Just go with the flow."

"That's easy for you to say," she said, hopping off the barstool and following him back into the madness.

Indigo wished she could date as easily as Harrison. Unlike him, she had wounds that still lingered from bad relationships.

• • •

"Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!" Indigo stood in the doorway, happily waving to the last guest as they headed down the now vacant driveway.

"Mmm, this is good." Harrison slouched in one of the living room's striped armchairs with his legs propped up on the coffee table. "Mama, you put your foot in this gumbo." He shoveled in another spoonful of the swampy chicken-and-sausage delicacy that was reserved for special occasions.

It was also Indigo's favorite. Unfortunately, Indigo hadn't had any since she'd been too busy to stop and eat. Slurping the spicy juice from the crab legs was the best part, but now she was just too tired to fight with the crustacean exoskeleton.

"Thanks, baby," Stella Clark, the matriarch of the Clark clan, said. She headed for the stairs, arms full of vibrant yellow baby blankets. "You better get you a bowl to take home before Xavier gets back."

Saxon waited for their mama to climb the last step and round the corner before she peeled her lips apart. "Keep your paws away from that pot." She pointed her finger at Harrison while sitting back on the couch, stroking her round belly. "That's Xavier and the kids' dinner. You can go to Mickey D's to fill that bottomless pit of yours."

"Anyway, you need to stop stuffing your face." Indigo pushed the back of Harrison's head, sending it forward and almost into the bowl he was cradling like a newborn. "And help us get this stuff to the nursery." She gestured to the baby paraphernalia that cluttered the usually immaculate living room. "I don't want to be doing this all day."

"What else do you have to do?" Harrison and Saxon chirped simultaneously.

She narrowed her eyes at them with her hands on her waist, blocking the television screen that Harrison had commandeered, switching it from soundscapes to Atlanta. "Better things than stockpiling your already packed nursery." Indigo slid her bare foot across the hardwood floor. "This isn't how I wanted to spend my last off day of the week."

"Damn!" Harrison dug his spoon into the bowl. "Tell us how you really feel."

Saxon cradled her round belly with a sneer. "What's the matter with you? This is your niece. You don't want to be here for your sister and your niece?"

She wanted to ask how many baby showers she had to attend. Shouldn't being in attendance for the first two have filled her quota? But knowing how hormonal and expressive her sister was, the question would only lead to waterworks and their mom hurrying downstairs, ready to give a tongue-lashing to whoever had made the mother-to-be upset.

"I want to be here," Indigo said in a soft tone to erase the now downturned mouth and big eyes her sister was giving her. "I just don't want to be here all day."

Harrison huffed. "Lies. So many lies your teeth should fall out."

"What?" Saxon cocked her head in his direction. "Lying about what?"

"Stop instigating, you little scoundrel." Indigo tossed a cute plush teddy bear at him, but it sailed past his head by a country mile.

Saxon glanced between the two of them with suspicion, reminding Indigo of the days their big sister had been tasked with watching her siblings while their parents worked late, and they would plot to break the rules. "Are y'all keeping secrets behind my back? What is it? We have a code, remember." A code they'd crafted when she went away to college. Austin was far away, and she hadn't wanted to be left out and miss anything in their tight-knit trio. "Spill it, now."

"There is no secret." Indigo dropped to her knees by the coffee table, busying herself folding a pile of onesies. "Chill out, Sax."

Harrison swallowed his spoonful of gumbo. "She's pissed that she's still single and everyone around her is moving on."

"That's the last time I'm having a private conversation with you, Harriet." Indigo gave him the evil eye.

Harrison shrugged, shoveling another helping of food in his mouth. Her threat didn't faze him. He knew it was empty.

"Indigo . . ." Saxon said in a motherly, tender tone that clawed at Indigo's insides because it always had a way of dismantling her defenses, causing her to divulge more than she wished.

"Saxon, don't start." She was smoothing her hand over the polka-dotted onesies, trying to free them of the wrinkles that had set in from being bunched up. "We're not going there, remember?" She peeked at her sister with a pointed look.

"See, that's your problem right there." Saxon sternly jabbed her finger at her. "You don't want anyone's help. I could set you up with a great guy right now." She snapped her fingers as if it was going to be that simple.

"Mm-hmm, she getting more stubborn in her old age," Harrison added with a nod of his head. "I have a few homeboys that have some relationship potential."

"I can find my own dates, thank you," Indigo told them.

Saxon shook her head. "That's how you ended up with Corey."

"Which one was Corey?" Harrison tapped his chin with the licked-clean spoon. "The college boyfriend that had the girl back home?"

Saxon shook her head. "That was Darius. Corey's the one she dated in high school; you know . . ." She snapped her fingers at Harrison as if it was going to help him remember. "The one that got her community service."

"Oh!" Harrison threw his head back. "Corey Hall."

"I'm sitting right here." Indigo frowned at them. "So, can we not do this?"

"Maybe we should." Saxon pushed her back against the soft cushion of the cream couch. "Then maybe you'll see that you need to let someone help you find love because your picker is broken."

"Is not." Indigo drummed her manicured nails on the raw wood coffee table. "There's just an abundance of lames out there." She thought about the gold-toothed father of six who'd asked her out while she was pumping gas last week.

"I mean, maybe she's right because you did pick Ian." Harrison scooted to the end of his chair. "Or should we say Christian Ross or Michael Earnest? What name is he going by now?"

"His government name is Jason Nelson," Saxon said with a sad quirk on her lips.

"A girl dates one con man and she gets branded." Indigo slapped her hand on the table, feeling a little heated. "I don't keep bringing up y'all's tragic little trysts."

Harrison pointed his spoon at himself. "Because we don't let our failed relationships define us, but you—"

"I what, Harris!" Indigo seethed, jumping to her feet. "I ejected myself out of the dating field because I'm tired of getting hurt. You think it's fun to fall in love with a guy, start planning a wedding, only to find out later that he isn't who he says he is? You think that shit's easy to rebound from?"

It wasn't, but it had forced her to subtract her focus on her social life and add to her business endeavors. Twenty-six had been a wild time for her, but it had been lucrative.

"Then what about Tate?" Saxon interjected. "Are we going to talk about that one or—"

"You know what—" Indigo snatched her purse off the armchair and slipped on her shoes. "I'm out!" She marched toward the door and flung it open. A gust of humid air smacked into her face. Out of all her relationships, that was the only one she couldn't handle reliving. "Let the Hamburglar help you organize your baby shit." And with that, she slammed the door behind her.