“We moved back a little while ago,” I said. It wasn’t hard to clock the interrogation, mostly because I would have done the exact same thing if Nikki brought home someone I’d never met before. “And Brooklyn and I are just friends.”
She eyed me with a skeptical glance before sighing softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch or anything. I’m trying to look out for him, that’s all.”
“I get it.” I nodded. “I’m the same way with my younger sister.”
“Do me a favor?” Her expression softened as she looked through the wide-open windows at Brooklyn, laughing and chatting with his mom’s book club in that charming, endearing way of his. “Keep an eye on him, please.”
“I will,” I reassured her. “I like hanging out with him. As a friend, right?”
I inwardly groaned. If I could have kicked my own ass right now, I would have.
To my surprise, Stella offered me a soft smile. “My brother wouldn’t readily admit this, but he really needs some good influences around him.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I can’t promise his caffeine intake will be mitigated, but otherwise I’d like to think I’m a good influence.”
Stella laughed, and it alleviated the tension that had crept into my shoulders.
“So howdidyou two meet?” she asked.
“Actually, he murdered my coffee in cold blood last week,” I replied with emphatic casualness, and suddenly there was more laughter in the room that hadn’t come from Stella. I’d be remiss to say I didn’t already recognize his laugh.
“Murdered?” Brooklyn feigned offense as he reclaimed his position at the kitchen island beside me, clapping his hands to his chest. “Murdered?That’s . . . that’s cruel. Maybe we could downplay it to coffeeslaughter, couldn’t we? You were half as guilty. Besides, Stella is gonna be a lawyer, so—”
“Excuse you,” Stella scoffed and held up her hand. “Who said I’d be representingyou? I’m on Nat’s side.”
“And together we can bring this latte assassin to justice,” I continued.
“Unbelievable,” Brooklyn grumbled. “I’ve never felt so betrayed, andby my own family.”
Stella and I laughed, and I almost didn’t hear the back door open again.
“What’s so funny? You guys sound like a pack of hyenas.”
A woman I assumed to be Brooklyn and Stella’s mother joined us in the kitchen, standing beside Stella and taking a sip from the mimosa Stella had poured.
“Mom, this is Nat.” Brooklyn gestured to me. “Nat, this is my mom.”
“Annie, please. It’s so lovely to meet you.” She extended her hand to me. Her smile reminded me a lot of Brooklyn’s, and it was easy to see where he got it from.
“Nice to meet you.” I offered her a smile in return. We were doinga lotof smiling today, and I needed to schedule some scowl time before I lost feeling in my cheeks.
Brooklyn’s mother was not what I was expecting, although to be fair I didn’t know what to expect. She had sandy brunet hair like Brooklyn and Stella, but peppered faintly with gray, and done up cleanly in a claw clip. She was petite—perhaps a little too petite for her flowing floral sundress as it brushed against the wooden floors.
“Great, you’ve seen her,” Brooklyn grumbled. “Now can we go? Nat has to get back home.”
No, I didn’t. But even though that seemed like a little white lie, it sounded great coming out of his mouth. Smooth and effortless and so true. I uncomfortably shifted on the stool as Brooklyn’s mother turned back to me, still polite but a little more tense than before.
“Thanks for coming by,” she said to me. “You’re welcome anytime.”
There was more subtext there, but I didn’t have it in me to fully decipher it. I could tell from the way she looked at me, because her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time.
>> <<
The drive back home seemed infinitely longer than our journey out to Brooklyn’s neighborhood. Wind continued to breeze through all the openness of Brooklyn’s topless Wrangler as we drove across the bridge and through the center of town, and I stuck my hand out, blissfully trying to catch air. We glided along in silence, with nothing but the grungy ’90s rock Brooklyn played from his Spotify thrumming in the background. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, wondering why he seemed to captivate me so much.
“What?” He side-eyed me.
I could have said that I liked his eyes, and that I liked his smile, and that most of all, I liked the way he looked at me. I just didn’t know I wanted to be looked at like that until he did, because I’d never gone searching for it myself.
