“Why don’t you come in through the front door?” he finally asks.
“It’s less convenient,” I say. “And I hate inconveniences.”
I pull out a pan and set it on the stove. Then another. “Would you like pancakes?” I ask. “I make bacon, too. It’s your brother’s favorite breakfast. But I can do eggs or sausage for you if you prefer.”
Drew hesitates, then slowly slides into the chair at the table like his legs have forgotten how to work. “Pancakes and bacon are fine,” he says. “So… you do this often? Come over and make my brother breakfast?”
I smile as I turn on the burner. “And coffee,” I say. “Every morning. I enjoy making Sebastian’s life easier.”And one day, he’ll thank me for it.
Drew nods slowly, like he’s stuck in a nightmare he can’t wake up from.
His phone rings just as the bacon starts to sizzle. He flinches, then exhales when he looks at the screen. “It’s her,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.
I pretend not to listen, even though I’m hanging on every word.
“What?” Drew says, rubbing his forehead. He listens for a second, then straightens. “No. No, that’s not my responsibility anymore.”
I flip apancake.
“Yes, I know the garbage disposal is broken,” he continues. “But I don’t live there, Julia. And I didn’t break it.”
He pauses, a scowl on his face as he listens.
“No. I’m not coming over to fix it. Nor am I coming over to fix the toilet. You can call a plumber.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Because we’re getting divorced,” he says, voice tight but steady. “And I’m done being the person you call when something goes wrong.”
I smile to myself.
“I’m not punishing you,” Drew adds. “I’m setting boundaries.”
Good. He’s learning the language.
He hangs up and stares at his phone for a moment, like he’s surprised it didn’t explode in his hand.
I slide a mug of coffee across the counter toward him. “Way to stand your ground.”
He looks up, brows lifting. “Um… thanks.”
“You’re establishing boundaries,” I say warmly. “Good for you.”
Drew opens his mouth like he wants to ask how I know that word—or why it sounds like a compliment coming fromme—but footsteps interrupt him.
Sebastian enters the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He looks sleep-rumpled in a way that makes my chest feel tight.
“Mornin’,” he says to his brother.
Drew nods, still processing his life choices.
Sebastian’s gaze shifts to me. Calm. Familiar. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. He never does.
“Thanks for making coffee and breakfast,” he says.
“Of course,” I reply.
I place his mug in front of him once he sits down,handle turned the way he likes it. He wraps his fingers around it without comment.
