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Finn looks between the two of us, blinking as if something confuses him.
“Bren, don’t be rude. We have spare rooms.”
“It’s all right, Sofia. I have a room at a resort nearby,” Finn says.
Andreas shows up shortly after Finn’s arrival with several bags of food and sets everything out on the kitchen island. Carmen helps me fill three plates with meats, cheeses, and olives from a charcuterie board with a handful of grapes for each.
Since Bren will probably want to go out to dinner with Finn later, I give Carmen the rest of the night off. She laughs and tells me how this is the least she’s had to work since having this job, but I reassure her it will be our little secret.
I take all the food out to the terrace by the pool, where both men wait for me. I also bring out wine glasses and a couple of bottles of wine I asked Andreas to get from the property’s wine cellar. Bren wanted to hire a chef, but I insisted we should order in, and I’d arrange everything. I don’t really want a stranger in the villa who could give away Bren’s current whereabouts to a tabloid.
Once Andreas leaves for his date with Kikki, the three of us are left alone.
Alone and in paradise.
“Bren won’t take me wine tasting,” I explain to Finn when he sees the wine bottles and arches a brow in question. “He’s afraid of being recognized.” I eye Bren with a teasing glare. “So I asked Andreas to get a couple of bottles of the local so we could try.”
“Excellent idea,” Finn says with approval.
“So, how do you two know each other?” I ask both men.
“We went to college together,” Finn says.
“Are you a musician too?” I ask.
“He wishes he were that talented,” Bren says before Finn can answer.
“No. I’m an environmental engineer in Germany.”
As they finish the first bottle of wine, Finn and Bren reminisce about their time in college together. I am surprised Bren actually graduated while recording the firstIndustrial Novemberalbum. I can’t believe I haven’t asked what he majored in—I guess I assumed he had dropped out when the band started. But no. Bren is a college graduate, to my surprise. He majored in literature with an emphasis in poetry.
“But how does an engineering major make friends with a poet?” I ask.
They look at each other and smile. I don’t mind feeling like I’m outside of a club when they share a thought telepathically—it’s actually endearing. What follows are a series of stories of how Finn turned into a roadie on their summers off, catching the leftover pussy that sought out the band even before they were famous. Finn seems surprised that he can share those stories about Bren’s sordid past. Perhaps he expected me to be upset, but Bren’s history doesn’t upset me. We all have pasts. I sure do. When Bren tells Finn it’s okay to share those stories, I could swear Bren looks at me with pride glimmering in his eyes.
We enjoy nibbling at our food and sipping on wine so much, none of us realize the afternoon and evening have passed us by and it is almost dark. All three of us are very slightly tipsy, and I go to the kitchen for a third bottle of wine. I don’t realize someone has followed me in until he speaks.
I turn on my heel to find Finn holding some of the dishes and placing them in the sink. I turn the corkscrew in the bottle. “Oh, thanks, Finn. But you’re a guest. You don’t have to clean up. I’ll get those.”
“I’m happy to help,” he says and flashes me a sexy smile that pops the cutest little dimple on his right cheek. “Do you need help with that?” he asks, looking at the bottle in my hands.
I uncork it expertly and grin at him. “Nope. I got it. But if you want to grab new wine glasses, they’re in that cabinet there.”
“Sure,” he says. I walk around the kitchen island to go back outside, but I halt once again at his voice.
“Bren looks happy,” Finn says.
I turn to face him again. “Does he?”
Finn nods. “I haven’t seen him that happy since...” He trails off, clearly unsure if he should continue.
“Since Emma?” I ask, studying him intently.
Finn’s eyes narrow. “You know about Emma?”
I nod. “He told me.”
“How much did he tell you?”
