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Not that he was going to be a father anytime soon.
The image of the meadow back in Manningsport kept inserting itself into his brain, usually around two in the morning. Where the porch would face, the way the deer would wander through the yard. How he could build a slate patio in the back so sitting out there, you’d hear the sound of the river that led to Keuka. The maple tree that would be perfect for a swing.
There was no meadow on a hill in this area; there was only flatness. And heat. Two months away, and the heat of the Midwest got baked into him like never before, and he found himself thinking about the nights in New York when it had been cold enough to sleep with a blanket to keep you warm.
Or a woman.
Or a woman and her dog, more accurately.
And then thoughts of Bryce and her would slice through that pretty image.
His buzzer rang, and Lucas got up from the computer. Crap, it was already dark, and he still hadn’t eaten. “Hello,” he said in the intercom.
“Hey! It’s Bryce.”
Speak of the devil. “Come on up.”
Lucas hadn’t heard much from him since the funeral, other than his shock that he was now a wealthy man. If he was smart (and Lucas intended to make sure he would be), Joe’s money could keep Bryce modestly comfortable for life.
He opened the door, and there was his cousin.
“What’s up, bro?” Bryce said, hugging him.
Bryce had brought a six-pack, which was a first. “Sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to see you. Just jumped in the car and drove to the airport, grabbed a cab here.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “How are things?”
They ordered a pizza (“Nothing like Chicago pie,” Bryce said happily) and opened a couple beers. Lucas listened as Bryce told him his plans for the future; he was getting his personal trainer’s license and was thinking about possibly opening a women-only gym (which would be a frickin’ gold mine, let’s be honest). Still washing dogs and finding them homes. He and Paulie were still together, really happy, having lots of fun. Didi was back in Manningsport and kind of a pain, always dropping by unannounced, but Bryce hadn’t given her a key, so at least she couldn’t come barging into his place at the opera house.
“Sounds like things are good,” Lucas said, clearing their plates.
“Yeah, so I might need you to free up some money from my trust fund,” Bryce said. “For the gym. I’m working on getting a business plan. Paulie and her dad are helping me, and you’re smart about that stuff. Maybe you could take a look?”
“You bet,” Lucas said.
“Thanks.” His cousin paused. “So about...you know. Colleen. You over that, dude?”
Lucas looked at his beer and didn’t answer for a minute. “Did it ever occur to you that...” He broke off.That I loved her,he’d been about to say.
Bryce gave a sad smile. “Yeah. It occurred to me. But you were gone and married and living the life, right? And Colleen and I were still in Manningsport, and the thing was, I always liked her, from high school on. I mean, I’m a straight guy. Straight guys love Colleen. Gay guys, too, probably.”
“So you had no problem taking her to bed.”
Bryce sat back in the leather chair and looked at him. “You ever wonder what it was like to be your cousin? You were the smart one. The cool one. You were from the South Side, and that was all my dad ever talked about, the good old days, life in Chicago. I was some spoiled kid from the ’burbs.”
“My life wasn’t really that great, Bryce. Mother dead, father in prison, remember?”
“And still you were better at everything. I don’t know if you remember that first day of school in Manningsport, walking into that classroom. And there was the prettiest girl in town, and she was staring at you like she’d been blind up until that second.”
Lucas remembered, all right.
“She was the one mistake you made, wasn’t she? Leaving her, marrying Ellen?”
He didn’t answer.
“So yeah,” Bryce said. “I hooked up with her, but to be honest, I have no idea why she hooked up with me. Even then, it was pretty obvious she was still hung up on you. She just looked so lonely that night.”
The thought made his chest hurt. Colleen, who was always so bright and smiling—lonely, even with her twin, her friends, her sister. Lonely, because he made her that way.
