Page 69 of But For You

He grunted.

“Why wouldn’t Aja have this party for her friend on Labor Day when everyone already has a day off?”

“Because first, it’s a dinner party, not a party, party, so that’s different, and it won’t go past ten, if that. Second, much like you, many people go out of town for long weekends.”

“I came home early.”

“That is hardly the point.”

I couldn’t fault his logic. “I’ll be at the dinner party. Go away now so I can get my kids settled.”

“Fine.” He smiled at me. “Drinks are at six, yes?”

“Yes.”

I got a shoulder squeeze, and that was it. Dane didn’t do demonstrations of affection other than with his wife, his kids, my kids, or Aja’s mother, who hugged and kissed him a lot.

By all accounts, Dane’s parents had been very kind, warm people, but they were not the sort that he saw every night or even every week. His father was a real estate developer, his mother a socialite, and though they cared for him deeply, they were not hands-on. When his parents had been alive, the three of them laughed and got along wonderfully, but Dane could turn that devotion off and on like a faucet. Because his parents had wanted him to learn that relationships between employer and employee were transient and not to be counted on, his early life had been filled with rotating staff. No one was allowed to become permanent. Butlers, maids, gardeners, chauffeurs, and a never-ending stream of nannies had filled his formative years.

I was certain the way he used to change out women was a direct reflection of the nurturing, caregiving women in his life having been swapped out so frequently. Dane did not maintain long-term relationships with anyone but people he had chosen himself—his friends, then me, and finally Aja.

I had been Dane’s assistant for five years before being fired and then told that he was basically adopting me as the little brother he never had. I changed my last name—Keyes—to Harcourt, and then there were two of us. Dane had been adopted as an infant; he then turned around and adopted me. It had always made great sense to me and, I knew, to him. And everyone who met us for the first time always noted that we looked nothing alike—he was tall and godlike and I was short and not. But … they never mentioned it to Dane. Me, yes. Him, absolutely not. Something about the furrow of his brows, the darkness in his eyes, and the solid, unwavering gaze didn’t allow for questions. Especially not about his family. Better to simply smile and nod.

As I held the door open for him and he reminded me, again, about the alarm, I was going to give him some smart-ass remark about the size of my brain being bigger than a poodle’s so that I could actually retain information when he reached out and put a hand on my cheek.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said softly before he turned and walked away.

“You could just say you love me and you worry about me!” I called after him, chuckling.

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder, and that was endearing for reasons that most people wouldn’t get. But I understood him so well. Dane demonstrated how he felt about you; he was not big on declarations of devotion. Anyone could say they loved you, but Dane showed it, and I had always been an action-over-words kind of guy—except where Sam was concerned. From him, I needed both.

I called Kola and Hannah out of the bedroom, and they were excited about the Wii in their room and the PlayStation and the ginormous television set.

“Ginormous?” I repeated.

Kola nodded.

“When’s Daddy coming?” Hannah wanted to know because she was so Sam’s girl, his champion, his cheerleader, and his biggest fan.

“Probably not until next week, B.”

She began the blinking that normally happened before she started to cry, so I grabbed her and pulled her onto my lap for a cuddle.

“Pa, I wanna play hide-and-seek.”

“Okay, and after, should we order pizza and watch a movie?”

“Pizza!” Kola chanted.

“I wanna watch The Wizard of Oz!”

“Not again.” He changed instantly to whining. “You just wanna see the melting part anyway.”

Hannah looked thoughtful. “I should take my water gun in my backpack to shoot at Ms. Brady and check if she’s a witch.”

Kola’s face lit up. “That’s a really good idea,” he said as though he was surprised his sister had come up with it. “You could just shoot anyone who was mean to you.”