Page 39 of Seein’ Red

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Which means what for Bronwyn and me? Moving into the cottage?”

Ooof, yeah. I didn’t think this part through. The other half of the deal was that when whichever one of us displaced our parents, they got the bachelor pad. The plan, as it stands now, is that I’d be taking over the small cottage in town that Bronwyn currently rents from Sylvie in the whole house shuffle. The little two bedroom place would work perfectly well for a single guy. Less so for a couple with a new baby.

“Haven’t gotten that far.”

“And what about the Hayeses? Do they know yet? Auggie’s pretty reasonable, though he might not be when it comes to this. But she’s got six older brothers you gotta worry about.”

No shit, Sherlock…

“You don’t think I can do this.”

I lurch forward, my weight rocking the chair. Forget the worry I was feeling about sharing all this, or about how I’m going to make it all work. All that’s gone, replaced by the sting of my own twin not believing in me.

“Didn't fucking say that, did I?” he chirps. “I was the one who told you back then that you need to make things right with her. Spent the last decade thinking you ignored that advice, watching the two of you circle around each other like lions in heat, not sure if we should lock you two in a room to fight or fuck it out.”

“The latter,” I quip, unable to help myself.

“Apparently.”

“I’m sorry.” I heave out a long exhale, the words a long time coming. “I should have listened to you then, and I should have told you what was going on. But Willa… She wanted it to be kept a secret. She’s that ashamed of me. And I…I owed it to her to respect her wishes.”

“True.”

He’s silent for a long time, staring off into space. Just when I think I won’t get an answer, he pushes to his feet, reaching out to haul me up too. Then, he surprises me.

Noel hugs me.

His big arms wrap around me, squeezing tight, until the only thing I can do is return the gesture.

“Congratulations, Dad.”

Dad…

Tears sting my eyes as he says the word. I hadn’t let that part sink in yet. Holy shit.

“Thanks…”

“You can have the farmhouse. We can take the cottage. It’s not ideal, but…we’ll make it work. Next generation of Kellers need to be on this property.”

“Bet we can find a spot to build you a place too. We got that far back parcel that’s not doin’ much these days.”

“Not a bad idea. Build Bronwyn her dream house.”

I laugh, shaking my head and giving him a shove. “Man, you’re whipped.”

“Nash, you have zero room to talk right now. Asking me for our childhood home to give to the girl you’ve been pining after since we were twelve.”

I shrug. “I got plenty, actually. She’s not talking to me.”

“Then how ’bout we fix that?”

12

WILLA

“You lost weight.”

The stern Ukrainian accent makes the comment sound more like a scold than an observation. In reality, it probably is. Irina, the Ukrainian woman who was the seamstress for every pageant dress of my career, is standing behind Kenzie, hands on her hips, giving a look of borderline disapproval. It’s a look I know well from my days up on that pedestal.