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“It’s fine.” My voice wobbles, but I force myself to breathe through it. I don’t want the twins to see me in pieces. We’re finally getting to a place in our lives that’s not completely dire. They won’t believe it’s true if they see me losing it in the kitchen over a silly assumption Sean made.
And over the true things. Ones that aren’t guesses. Like the fact that sometimes my mom’s face is slightly blurred in my memories, like an out-of-focus photo. Or the fact that they don’t make the cheap drugstore perfume she used to wear anymore, and I can’t remember just what it smelled like on her skin. And I’m not sure when the last time she hugged me was. The quick side-hug from her hospital bed jumps around in my memory so often that I’m beginning to think I made it up.
Sean’s the only person, other than our dad, who would remember any of those things, but I can’t bring myself to talk about it. Not right now.
“No, it wasn’t. I just…” He hugs me tighter. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I’mperfectlyhappy.” Saying it makes another sob catch in my throat.
“You seem like it.” He pats my back. “At least, you would if your older brother didn’t say ridiculous shit to you when you’re trying to pump yourself up to follow my advice at work.”
I sniffle into the dish towel. “The one where I’m supposed to annoy Will into leaving me alone by acting like he doesn’t bother me?”
“Hell, yes.” A loud knock at the door. “That’s the food. I can make him wait if you’re not done getting hugged.”
“That’s thefood.” I push Sean toward the door and scrub at my face with the towel, which is softer than some sheets I’ve slept on. “The least you can do is put it on the table while it’s still hot.”
10
WILL
Hughes Financial Serviceswas supposed to be the one place I’d never run into Bristol Anderson, so of course I spend every second I’m in the office thinking about when I’ll see her next.
Even when I get here early to work without being observed by Call-Me-Candy.
And because I have nothing else to do with my life. Spending hours at the office is what I do. Late nights. Early mornings. Except when my brothers cut into the evenings. Which I’ve been letting them do, because—
Because I don’t fucking know why. Maybe it was Emerson’s face when I opened the door last winter and found him standing there in a goddamn wetsuit and a winter coat, looking absolutely wrecked and certain that I’d throw him out into the cold. Or maybe it was Sin, parachuting back into our lives and refusing to go back to LA.
I used to know better than to get attached. First thing Eddie taught me when I started training with him was to be aware of my weaknesses. That’s what brothers are. That’s what Bristol is.
The way to deal with it is to punch them out. Figuratively, I mean. I used to think that what made them a weakness was the fact that they’d eventually stop pretending I’m worth their time. One day, they’d snap, and the truth would come out—that I’m an angry, violent waste of space and they have no use for me.
It’s worse, though. So much worse. They’re not going to snap. They’re going to keep me around until I explode, hurting them in the process.
The answer is to text the group and tell Sinclair and Emerson that it’s over, that we won’t be seeing each other anymore, and I can’t do it. All that happens when I pick up the phone is that a bunch of stuff I can never say appears on the screen.I had the meeting with Finn, and I don’t feel any better. Bristol works here and I don’t know what the fuck to do. What does it say about me if I can’t live for a month without punching some asshole in the face? I can’t sleep.
Christa: I love this place. I have an assistant just to bring me coffee.
Will: You had an assistant before.
Christa: Yeah, but this one worships me.
Will: That’s not worship. They’re terrified of you.
Christa: My point stands. Excellent call on the merger, Leblanc. Keep up the good work.
Great. As long as everybody’s happy.
I put my phone in one of the desk drawers, where I can’t see it. Then I go back to my emails. They’re trying to place me in the larger scheme of Hughes Financial Services. I don’t trust it for a second. I also don’t see how I’m supposed to be more valuable this way, but maybe that’s what Finn will explain.
That’s what I have to tell Candy when she gets in. She needs to set it up with Finn’s secretary today.
And I need to stop thinking about Bristol.
It turns out I can think about Bristolandthe emails at the same time. I can even take notes while I imagine her so vividly that I hear the particular cadence of her footsteps on the carpet outside my office.
Then her citrus scent is on the air, and my coffee, and there’s movement at the door, and it’s her.
