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"Did I berate you for drinking yourself stupid after your divorce?"
"Yes."
Arsehole.
"You used your drunken misery quota last year."
It's not that. Last year, after Rory left, I drank myself stupid with Ian. He and Eve had just started seeing each other. He still believed it would end the way all his arrangements did.
He couldn't admit it to himself.
He couldn't admit he was in love with her.
Then he did. And he's spent the last year building in love, trust, devotion.
That's why he's calling me on this now, but I'm not in the mood to argue.
"Run," he says it again. "Or I'm calling Mum."
"No."
He motions to the door then go.
"I'll drink the fucking tea first."
He smiles. "It's not a punishment."
"Let's agree to disagree."
Ian shakes his head. It's a look I don't see often. My brother, so ridiculous.
I've never been ridiculous.
I've been disciplined. Driven. Practical.
I got things done. Took care of our mother. Took care of myself.
Built this fucking business with him.
Held on to every secret I had.
I pick up the thermos, even though the cheesy tourist logo makes me think of Indigo. She loves the city. Especially the iconic Empire State Building.
"Is it so bad?" Ian asks.
The tea itself is fine. Strong and warm, with enough cream and honey it's more dessert than drink. But the feeling of comfort, of knowing I need comforting—
It's strange.
"Terrible," I say.
He chuckles. "Make coffee then. But you've only got another eight minutes."
"Are you timing me?"
"Maybe."
"Arsehole."
He shrugs so what if I am.
I drink with greedy sips. As much as I hate to admit it, I need the comfort.
We sit there in silence for a few minutes.
Then he speaks. "Cam tells me she stormed out."
"You didn't see?"
"No." His voice is soft. "You two have that in common. Quick exits."
"What else did Cam tell you?"
"That you're an idiot who can't see what's in front of his face."
Maybe.
"And that he's going to fuck her sister."
"Is he?"
"Who can tell with Cam?" He chuckles. "Would it really be so bad? You'd have an excuse to see her."
"I can't see her."
"Why not?"
"She's in love with me?"
"It's been a while for me, I admit, but isn't that the idea? You meet someone, fall in love, get married?"
Yes. Of course. "She won't do this unless I'm in love with her."
His eyes fill with surprise. "You're not?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No."
His face screws with confusion. "Why did she agree to marry you?"
"I'm a great fuck."
"I'm sure you are, Ty, but we both know women aren't ruled by the head between their legs."
"Maybe they are," I say. "Maybe they have us fooled."
He considers it. "Maybe."
"That is what you say about Eve."
"I'm teasing. I know it's not true. Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you know why she really agreed to marry you?"
I could lie. Maybe I should. But I don't. "I paid her to."
He fails to hide his surprise.
"My reputation… I was tired of people calling me a whore."
"Tired of me and Mum worrying?"
"Yes."
"But that is her," he says. "She is the girl from the museum?"
I nod.
"The one who fucked with your head."
"She is."
He shakes his head. "You're a fucking idiot, Ty."
Probably.
"You're in love with her. Everyone else sees it. Everyone but you."
"I don't think she's interested in anyone else's opinion."
"You really paid her?"
I nod.
"And you didn't tell me?"
"Why do you think I paid her, Ian?"
"Fuck." He slips out of his chair. Paces to the fridge. And back. "I forget sometimes. I forget how young you were when I left."
"You didn't leave. You enlisted."
"I still left." He looks to me. "I could have stayed closer. Found a job selling shoes."
"You couldn't sell a shoe to save your life."
His laugh is soft. "Maybe. But I know what it was like for me. Growing up with Dad away all the time. Feeling like I had to keep everything together. I did the same thing. I understood why he enlisted, why he stayed enlisted, but I still hated him for it."
"I don't hate you."
"I still felt like he abandoned me. Abandoned our family."
He did. It might not be a fair accusation. He had to do something to make a living. He had to do something to take care of us.
But did he have to do that?
Did Ian?
"I'm sorry, Ty," he says. "It wasn't fair to you. It felt like something I had to do. Maybe it was. But it wasn't fair to you."
My shoulders soften. My chest eases. Some tension I've been holding for the last two decades fades.
"I should have stayed," he says. "I should have been there. Been your older brother."
"I missed you."
"I know."
"I needed you."
"I know." He looks me in the eyes. "I failed you and I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."
"You moved here." I feel twelve again. A child begging my brother to stay. "I thought you'd stick around, and you flew across an ocean."
"I tried to visit."
"Once a quarter."
