Page 66 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

A little while later, we’re making lunch when the front door opens and Becca calls out, “Knock, knock! Everyone alive in here, or did Dad slay the client?”

As Barney bounds out to greet her, I say, “We’re in the kitchen.”

Seth gives me a curious look.

“Becca,” I explain as my sister strides in with Barney in tow, looking like a time capsule straight out of a 1940s film in black wide-leg trousers, a white blouse tied at the waist, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, and her signature bright red lipstick.

Her grin is pure rabble-rouser as she parks herself in front of Seth and plants a hand on her hip, boldly looking him up and down. “Well, well, the legendary Mr. Braden lives—and apparently moisturizes. You’re prettier in person than in photos.”

My father snorts.

“Can’t blame the cameras,” Seth says with amusement. “I just look better when I’m with your sister.”

Becca cocks a grin. “Taylor has that effect on everyone.”

“He calls her Ellie,” my father interrupts, not unkindly.

Becca and I exchange a knowing glance, and then she looks at Seth and says, “You get props for that, too, Braden. Glad to see you’ve moved from my sister’s fantasies to her reality.”

“Okay, Bec, that’s enough,” I say, tugging her away from him. “Dad, Seth, your sandwiches are ready. Are you hungry, Bec? I’ll make you one.”

“I could eat, but I’ll get it,” she says.

“Thanks, El,” Seth says as my father reaches for a plate with a shaky hand. Seth snags both plates before my father can grab one. “I’ve got it.”

“I can carry my own damn plate,” my father complains.

Seth lowers his voice, leaning closer to my father, his back to us, and says, “I know you can, but do me a solid and go with it. It’ll make me look good.”

My father chuckles, then grumbles, “Always a pain in my ass,” as they head into the dining room.

Becca whispers, “Did Dad just laugh?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Can you believe it?”

“Did Seth slip him a doobie or something?”

We share smiles, and as I make another sandwich, my father says, “You got any treats for this mutt?”

“I got it, El,” Seth calls out as he stands up and pulls a dog treat out of his pocket, handing it to my father.

“So, are we alerting the media that hell has frozen over?” Becca asks. “Or are we just going to pretend this is normal?”

I glance at Seth, grateful that we have this second chance, still pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. He must sense my eyes on him, because he glances over and lifts his chin, giving me a look like the last morning we were on the island, before I ran away. The one that says I’m his person. Only this time I don’t run. I hold on to it with everything I have and say, “Let’s pretend it’s normal. I don’t want to jinx it.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Taylor

Today was the best day I’ve had with my father in a long time. Seth and I spent the afternoon with him, and he actually rested. At least for part of it. He still managed to rope Seth into a game of chess, grumbling every time Seth took one of his pieces, but that’s Dad. He told embarrassing stories from my childhood and proudly showed off his old Gibson guitar. Seth picked it up and played like he was born with a guitar in his hands. I swear, every time I think I know him, he surprises me with something new that pulls me in deeper.

After we dropped Barney back at the shelter, we went to a local pub for dinner and enjoyed good food and fun conversation. Now we’re back at my place, sitting by a roaring fire. Seth’s sweater is slung over the armchair, and he’s on the couch beside me, sleeves rolled to his forearms, legs crossed at the ankles, laptop balanced on his legs. I’m trying to finish a design for a client on my drawing tablet, but I can’t stop looking at him—barefoot, focused, and a little rumpled. I thought we’d gotten close on the island, but without the lie taking up space between us, we’ve brought closeness to a whole new level. I like this new version of us that doesn’t include watching what I say or trying not to fall.

A chime on my tablet breaks through my thoughts as an email rolls in.

From: Seth Braden

Subject: Urgent work matter