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ChapterEight
Sunny
My Fortieth Birthday Surprise
Only, as Ian cuts through the crowd, there’s really nothing about him that says little brother. The sleeves of his navy button down oxford are rolled up and tight on his forearms. The fabric stretches across his shoulders. His light brown pants are a cross between jeans and slacks and they fit him just right. His golden-brown strands are brushed back, and a five o’clock shadow strengthens his jawline. There’s truly nothing little about this thirtysomething version of Ian Duke.
“Surprise,” Oliver says, waving in the direction of his brother.
“And here I thought you were just trying to get me drunk, coercing me into one more beer.”
“What is that?” Ian asks as he steps up beside me. He wraps his strong arms around me and lifts me a couple of inches off the ground. “Are we trying to get the birthday girl drunk?”
“Not on beer,” Oliver answers. “But I can bring a round of shots over.”
“I can’t believe you came home. For me,” I say to Ian, completely disregarding Oliver. Shots are not on the agenda.
“I’m not going to miss your big day.” Ian straddles the bench I’ve been sitting on with one leg under the table and one leg on the outside, so he’s facing me. He lifts his pint, taps it against my glass, and sips.
A single black braided bracelet rests below his watch. It’s sexy. It’s also the kind of jewelry I’d imagine a woman at some point purchased for him. He sets the glass down and lifts a fist across the table and butts it against Oliver’s held out fist.
“I’ve been a bad friend. MIA for the last few months. There’s no way I could miss the big four-oh.”
“Let’s not use those words.” I wrinkle my nose, and he chuckles.
“You don’t look it.”
Oliver grins. “Yeah, every guy I meet is surprised to learn you’re older than me.”
I point a finger at Oliver. “Not by much.”
He grins. Back in high school, to tell the truth, all of our age differences mattered a lot more. It’s not something we think about now at all…except, you know, at the turn of an effing decade. How that happened, I’m not sure.
“You’ll be there before you know it,” I tell him.
Oliver’s two years younger than I am, but he jumped ahead in first grade, whereas I did kindergarten twice. It looked like I might have to do second grade twice, but Patty Duke stepped in. Dad was fighting too many demons at the time to help me with homework. I can only imagine how she knew I needed help. I’ve always suspected my teacher, Mrs. Taylor, must have told someone the Turner girl was really struggling, and that person told someone, and so on until the tidbit eventually found its way to Patty. Mrs. Duke turned it all around for me.
“What’re you planning for your birthday weekend?” Ian asks.
I look to Oliver, who is looking down at his phone. He glances at us and holds the device up. “Noah, man.”
“What’s he up to?” I ask.
“He’s in Austin tonight. Wants me to come out. You guys up for going the rounds tonight? Make your fortieth unforgettable?”
“You mean the college circuit, don’t you?” There are a lot of bars around UT that cater to the college crowd. Some hold fond memories, but I aged out of those places a good decade ago. Jeez Louise, it’s painful thinking like that, but still… “Noah’s hitting on the college crowd?”
“Eh, I don’t know if it’s strategic. He hangs out a lot with the waitstaff from his restaurants, and they hit those places. You up for it?” Oliver asks with a nonchalance that’s typical Oliver.
With a quick shake of my head, I decline. “No. I can’t imagine a more depressing place to be on my….” I can’t force out the wordfortieth, so I don’t. I chug my beer.
“You go.” Ian tilts his beer in his brother’s direction. “I’ve got this one.”
Oliver shrugs and tosses the phone down on the wood tabletop. It hits with athunk. “He’s a big boy.”
“Who’s he with? You trust him to Uber?” Ian asks him.
Oliver’s index finger scrolls through texts on his phone.
