Page 15 of The Silver Fox Brother

"And Rowan?" Amy asks.

"How does he feel about all this marriage pressure?"

I stare into my coffee. "He doesn't really... we don't really talk about it."

"At all?"

"Not lately. Not in concrete terms."

The waiter appears—Jacob, who's been working here as long as we've been coming—and takes our orders without us even opening our menus. Avocado toast for Kate, eggs benedict for Amy, the ricotta pancakes for me. Extra bacon all around. Another round of mimosas.

When he leaves, Kate fixes me with that look. The one that says she's about to ask a question I won't want to answer.

"Win. When's the last time Rowan asked about your work?"

The question lands exactly where she meant it to. I set down my coffee cup, buying time.

"He asks."

"When?"

"I don'tknow. Recently."

"Recently as in this week? This month?"

I replay the past few weeks. Rowan asking about my day, sure. But actually asking about my work—about the Chen project, about client meetings, about the things that matter to me professionally?

I can't remember.

"Okay, so not recently," I admit.

Amy leans back in her chair.

"Did you tell him about the Chen project? The contract you signed?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say?"

I remember exactly what he said. Can hear his distracted voice, see him barely looking up from his phone.

"He said 'that's great, babe.'"

"That's great, babe," Kate repeats flatly.

"Three and a half million dollars. Your biggest contract ever. The project that's going to put Winter Hayes Design on a completely different level. And he said 'that's great, babe.'"

"He was busy. The Brooklyn development—"

"Is always going to be more important than your career," Amy cuts in. Not mean, just matter-of-fact.

"Because to him, real estate development is real work. What you do is just... what? Decorating? A hobby that makes money?"

The word lands like a slap because it's true. I've heard it in Rowan's voice a hundred times, the way he refers to my work as "design stuff" with that slightly dismissive tone that suggests it's cute that I have a career but not serious in the way his is serious.

"He doesn't mean it like that," I say, the automatic defense rising up.

"Doesn't he?" Kate's voice is gentle, but her eyes are sharp.