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Chapter Six
Aaron stood on the doorstep,a bottle of shiraz in one hand and a bunch of orange gerberas in the other.
He sucked in a breath. He always needed to fortify himself before seeing Dad; add Oliver into the mix and it felt like he had to impersonate the Sydney Harbour Bridge—more steel than human.
A second later the door swung open and Andrea was enveloping him in a warm hug. She smelled of vanilla icing and rosemary roasted lamb. An odd combination unless you understood that Andrea spent most of her days in the kitchen, cooking. As she was a successful food blogger, the aroma was understandable. And they’d always benefited from trialling the results after the photos were taken. Andrea’s food was something he had to look forward to tonight, at least.
Aaron handed her the gerberas and wine.
“Thank you. So thoughtful. We’ve missed you, Aaron, it’s been a while.”
He ignored the stab of guilt. Andrea was just making the right noises. It wasn’t like Dad even noticed. And Andrea was fond of him, sure… but it wasn’t as if they were flesh and blood… she didn’t have to feelobliged. “Sorry, with finishing up at Fishers, you know… it’s been crazy.”
“I can imagine. Come on in. Your dad is with Oliver in the study and Gran will be here shortly.”
“Gran’s coming?”
“Yes, you know how she adores Oliver. A driver from the residential home is bringing her. Your dad will take her back after dinner.”
“I could have given her a lift.”
Andrea gave him a funny look. “She’s a bit more confused lately. She had anincidentthe other day.”
“What kind of incident?” Aaron stepped inside and stripped off his jacket. The hallway was as minimalist as ever; expensive artwork was showcased at measured intervals on vast white walls. A huge vase of fresh cut flowers in subtle variations of white stood on the elegant marble hall table. Guess he’d got the colour choice wrong. Andrea took the flowers with a murmured thanks and whisked his jacket over her spare arm, ready to secrete it away in some allotted space probably marked ‘visitors’.
“She was on the way back from playing bridge,” she continued, closing the door. “From what I can gather, she tried to kiss the cab driver; you know—a proper lip lock. I guess he must have looked like Gramps when he was young. It did give the guy a bit of a shock.”
Aaron felt his lips twitch. Dear old Gran. She’d been sharp as a tack until Gramps died two years ago. A fall and a broken hip had landed her in a home, and since then her life had obviously descended into a strange time warp.
“I’m about to temper the chocolate for dessert. It’s always tricky. Go and join them in the study—they’re expecting you.”
As Andrea bustled away, Aaron turned down the corridor to his dad’s study. His stomach tightened. There it was, that familiar feeling, like he’d done something wrong.
Outside the door, he waited, listening to David Blake’s big laugh followed by Oliver’s, laid-back and mellow, but with the same cadence and rhythm. Aaron turned the door handle and there they were. Team Blake.
David Blake was a big man, still handsome but a little heavy around the jaw from his penchant for fine reds. Oliver, in comparison, looked like he’d stepped out of the pages ofEsquiremagazine. Perfectly put together. Dark to Aaron’s fair, brown-eyed like their father, but where David Blake sported a square jaw, Oliver had their mother’s chiselled bone structure. His body was lean and muscled, clad in understated designer labels; the whole look topped off by a jaw of meticulously crafted stubble to give just the right appearance of edginess.
A dazzling smile slashed his face.
Smug bastard.
“Hey there, bro.” Oliver jumped up from his chair with what could only be described as panther-like grace. “Good to see you.”
Bro?Was this the new “cool” Oliver designed to impress his fan base of eager millennials? Well, Aaron wasn’t buying. He knew Oliver hovered on the brink of OCD. Oliver’s bedroom used to resemble an operating theatre. TGFZ: totally germ-free zone.
Aaron submitted to an oddly painful back slap just below the shoulder blades before Oliver beat a retreat, launching himself gracefully back into the winged chair on the other side of the fire.
“Hi,” Aaron replied through tight lips.
David Blake got up and clapped a hand briefly over Aaron’s shoulder. “How’s the new position going?”
“Haven’t started yet.”
“Oh, really? I thought they were keen to get you in there as soon as possible.”
“I finish at Fishers next Friday. They’re paying out the annual leave they owe me, so I’ll start the following Monday at Trojan’s.”
“So proud of you, mate,” Oliver said as David Blake sauntered over to the drinks cabinet.
