Page 40 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

“Let it go,” I warn.

“How can we?” Noah asks with a big-ass grin. “You never bring women anywhere. This is big news.”

“We should do a Discovery Hour special about it,” Flynn exclaims. “The Elusive Seth Braden: Rarely Seen, Never Documented, Spotted in the Wild with an Actual Woman.”

Clay snorts. “You’ll have to bait him with a merger or a conference call just to get usable footage.”

“You can film in his natural habitat, behind a desk, surrounded by spreadsheets, grunting out executive lingo,” Noah says, making them all crack up.

“Wait! I’ve got the sequel,” Flynn announces. “Seth Braden Buys a Plane: Year Seven of the Expedition.”

“We’ll need a time-lapse camera for that one,” Clay chimes in. “By the time he makes the purchase, aviation will be obsolete.”

“You’re all hilarious,” I say, though a laugh slips out despite myself. They’re always giving me shit about how long I’ve been shopping for a private plane.

“We’re just trying to honor the historic moment,” Flynn says.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Victory chimes in. “Leave him alone.”

“Oh, come on, Vic,” Clay teases. “You know you’re curious.”

“Of course I am,” she says. “But I have manners.”

“Glad at least one of you does,” I say.

“You’re the one who dodged the question, opening the door for us to assume there’s more to the story,” Noah cuts in.

“There was a question?” I ask.

“Yes! Details, dude,” Noah quips. “You’re hiding shit, and we all know it.”

“There are no details,” I say calmly. “She was nice. We had a fun time together. That’s all there is.”

Flynn whistles. “Nice enough to make you forget work, though. Missick said he’s never seen you so relaxed.”

Jesus Christ, Missick. Really? “Missick’s been breathing too much sea air.”

“He doesn’t sound very relaxed right now, and he usually doesn’t get riled up at work. It’s his sanctuary,” Victory points out.

“That’s because I’m on the phone with a bunch of lunatics.”

“Translation,” Clay says with a smirk. “We’re right.”

My eyes narrow. “Translation, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait,” Noah says quickly. “We called for a reason.”

“Obviously. To give me shit.”

My brothers laugh.

“That’s not why we called,” Victory insists. “You scheduled this call last Friday, remember? You said you wanted to talk about Mom’s gallery opening.”

Shit. How could I forget something so important? I don’t have to look far for that answer. I was texting with them when I walked into my house in Saint Aurelle and found Ellie standing in my kitchen in that sexy bikini. No wonder I forgot to have Taylor put the call on my calendar. I didn’t think of anything but Ellie after that for the whole weekend. I still can’t think of anything else.

“Right. Sorry,” I finally say, and force myself to focus on what needs to be said. “We all know Mom changed her career to take care of us. She never once bitched about it or made us feel like we slowed her down, and that’s a big deal.”

“That was her choice,” Victory says.