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I know what he means. It is hard to quantify Britta’s role. Personal assistant, reluctant therapist, director of staff. Hard-nosed, but would do anything for us, Britta’s been all the things.
“That explains a lot,” Oliver finally says.
“Was this retirement expected or did it happen suddenly?” Oakley asks, but there’s still something there, a stiffness, a politeness between us that tells me she’s still got our earlier conversation on her mind.
Which is understandable. I can wait for her to wrap her mind around it. I understand how bad it looks and that it’s problematic for many reasons, the least of which is her wondering if she can trust me. I can smell it, this air of distrust.
I don’t blame her. I just don’t know what to do with it. And I don’t know what to do with my brothers’ issues.
“Her plan was to stay on a few more years,” Sebastian says. “But her sister needs help, so Britta decided to be done.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Oakley says. The rest of us chime in our “uh-huhs.” “I can tell she meant a lot to you.”
“To all of us,” I add. “No one can measure up to Britta.”
A hush goes over the room.
I’m feeling more invested in Tate International than I ever have before. Have I ever wanted to work in the resort and hospitality business? Never. I still don’t. But it’s a good living. And it’s better than sitting around watching film from the glory days.
“As CEO of Fun, I don’t feel like I can be away from my duties for long,” There’s a resultant snicker at the mention of my job title. “But if it would help,” I glance at Sebastian and then Oliver. “I can go to Miami for a bit. What’s the shortest amount of time I could be there and still have it be worthwhile?”
There’s a long silence as it looks like both of my brothers are weighing the options.
Sebastian grunts in agreement right as Oliver starts in. “A few days. Maybe a week? But you’d have to go tomorrow.”
I nod. “I can get recreation things done remotely if it’s only a week.” Except, the thought of Zoom meetings intermixed with other things out of my comfort zone has my stomach burning. “What exactly do you need me to do? Because I’m not going to schmooze people.”
“No, no. You’d leave all that to me once you get the scouting done.” Oliver says. “You will not be doing any negotiations of any kind.”
“What? You don’t think I could get it done?” I ask.
“We all have different strengths, Alec.” Oliver says, and I’m reminded of something our mom used to tell us. It was along those lines, that we needed to steer our own ships, no use jumping into another person’s ship to try to steer theirs because then you’d both sink.
“Thanks, Alec.” The look Sophie gives me is edged with softness, as the lines on her forehead begin to smooth. “We would have been okay.” She wraps her arms around Oliver’s waist and snuggles up to him. “But still. It’s hard for us to be apart.”
There’s a look that passes between them that turns my gut upside down. Sophie and Oliver are meant to be together—their love is deep and real.
I want the same thing.
So, like an emotionally responsible person, I refer to the food. “Wings!” I exclaim. “Boneless, bone-in, brined, smoked, covered in a ridiculous amount of sauce. We have every version you could possibly want.”
That seems to do the trick and we head to the kitchen and dig in. Oakley even jokes with me a little bit. “You know why they invented celery?” she asks, swinging a stick around. “To hold up the ranch dressing, which in turn was invented to cool down your mouth after eating wings.”
“And wing sauce,” I say, dipping my own celery stick in the remains of the sticky fingers on my plate.
It almost feels back to normal between us.
“Did anyone bring any games?” Sophie asks when Oliver finishes off the last of the wings. When no one says yes, she grins. “Because if you’re all on board, Oliver and I thought about resurrecting…Gamble Town!” She pulls up a board with balloons taped all over it from behind a kitchen cabinet.
A whoop goes up and I glance at a confused Oakley. I grab her hand and lean in to whisper. “This is fun. Sophie and Oliver invented it. It involves cards and dice and—”
“Money? Do you gamble?” Oakley’s brow is low.
“Well—yeah. Sophie mentioned we needed to bring five dollar bills, but I thought it was for Left, Right, Center, which we’ve played before. I sort of wish it was because I get a little crazy at this game.”
Oakley’s expression hardens and she snatches her hand away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I brought enough to cover us both, though.” I don’t mention that I know things have been hard on her financially. I pull out the wad of cash that I jammed in my wallet.
