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“To some degree, yes. But now that you mention it, he has gotten significantly worse since she died.”
I probably should think about this more and figure out why, but I’m not sure it would matter.
“So why did it end?” she asks, leaning back in her chair.
“I know this is bad to say, but after my mother died, I changed. And maybe if she had been willing to change with me, we’d still be together, but honestly, I just stopped loving her. I didn’t want the life that she did, and we grew apart.”
“Hmm,” she mumbles as she looks at her plate and thinks about this.
“What are you doing over there?” I turn and look at the construction mess so she knows what I’m asking about.
“Oh, I decided I wanted to build a small wine cellar, and that’s a great space to do it.”
“A wine cellar?”
“Yeah, I saw one in an architectural magazine, and my mind took off. I’ve looked at so many, and while I originally thought I could just put in the door and build out the space underneath, now I’ve decided to make most of the wall glass.”
“Do you drink that much wine?”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Yes, I do like a glass of wine every now and then, but the cellar won’t be that large. It’s the perfect space, and then I’m installing the cooling system against the back. It vents through the downstairs bathroom, which is fine. No one sees that anyway.”
I eye her project, visualizing what she’s trying to accomplish, and she’s right. This is a great space for it. It has me thinking this would be a great addition for my house too. While I do drink a lot of the cider, my staircase is tall enough and long enough that I could incorporate beer taps as well.
“Do you need any help?”
She looks at me strangely, then shakes her head. “No, I can do it.”
“All right. You know how to find me if you do,” I offer. My lips curl up to smile at her, and after her cheeks turn a nice shade of pink, mine do the same.
Then, out of nowhere, she says, “I’ll be your date to the party if you want one. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s how to present in a social setting.”
My eyes lock onto hers and this is when I decide I should be adding selflessness to her long list of qualities, too, that definitely don’t point toward disappointment. I should be surprised that she’s offering, but I find I’m not. Warmth from her sunshine seeps under my skin.
My smile turns into a smirk. “Yeah, I might have researched my new neighbor just a little and discovered a few things about you, Ms. Rhodes Corporation.”
She laughs.
“Just a little, huh? And it’s not mine. It’s all my father’s. Well, his and Winston’s.”
“Winston is your brother?”
“Yep.” She pops the p.
While I did research her, I paid more attention to the images I found of her over the years than I did to the printed information.
“So what’s his deal?” I pick up my coffee and take another sip.
“He’s three years older, married, and has a son. We used to be friends, but the older he got, the more he slipped into my father’s shoes. Everything, and I do mean everything, is identical. From the way they stand with their left hand in their pants pocket to the way they chew like a cow with the jaw not going up and down, but more around, to the way they crack their neck. They talk alike, they dress alike, and the way they frown at me is alike. It’s eerie.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I am. It’s one thing to constantly have your parents judge you, but it’s another to have the parents and the sibling judge you. Jaxon may judge me, but only in the way that he thinks it’s crazy that I don’t want their lifestyle. Something tells me it’s different for her.
“I actually have to head back to New York next month. My parents host a fundraiser event every year, and I’m expected to be there.”
She looks down at the plate and drags her fingers through the remaining crumbs, smushing them on her fingertip, then sucking them off. Not a visual I need in my head, and I shove it into the mental box I’ve now titled Goldie.
“Okay. How about this . . . if you come with me to my brother’s engagement party, then I’ll go to New York with you for your parents’ event?”
