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“One day, you’ll go into a sugar coma,” Bran says with a sigh, as if he’s mentioned this countless times before.
“Worth it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Astrid raises her glass of orange juice in his direction and he clinks his against it.
“So what do you study in uni, Nikolai?” Astrid asks.
“Business management. I’m supposed to be taking over the family business that my parents have been leading for decades.”
“Oh, how exciting. You and Bran share something in common.”
“Really?” he asks, too eager. “What?”
“Heirs to a family business. Though Bran clearly expressed that he’ll have nothing to do with the management side.”
“Eli, Lan, and Creigh will do that just fine. I prefer art.”
“That’s my boy.” She reaches across the table and pats his hand.
“I find it hard to believe you do well at school,” I comment dryly.
“I actually have a GPA of 4.15, sir. I might not look like it, but I have an awesome memory. Though your other son likes to call me stupid.”
I smile to myself, proud of Lan, but then Bran strokes Nikolai’s arm. “You’re not stupid. Besides, Lan finds ninety-nine percent of the human population mentally challenged, so he’s the problem.”
Is he consoling him right now?
Dear God, please blind my fucking eyes.
“As long as you don’t think that, I couldn’t care less about Landon’s opinion of me.”
“You guys are so sweet.” Astrid has this dreamy expression all over her face that could only be described as swooning.
“We are, right?” Nikolai grins like a fucking idiot and nudges my son’s shoulder. “Hear that? Even your mom thinks we’re sweet.”
“Stop it,” he hisses under his breath, more out of embarrassment than annoyance.
I really wish it was fucking annoyance.
“So what do you like about my son?” I ask in my solemn tone, and that immediately puts a damper on the cheerful mood.
Nikolai is the only one who doesn’t get the jab or the tone, or if he does, he completely ignores it. “The right question would be what I don’t like about him. Which is maybe three things…actually, I take that back. I like those things sometimes as well, so they don’t count.”
“Is that your way of not giving me one single thing you like?”
“I’m happy to. How much time do you have, sir?”
“As much as you need.”
“Okay then.” He inhales deeply and speaks in one continuous breath. “I like that he’s responsible, punctual, takes all of his engagements seriously, steps up for justice, and helps in every way possible. I like his cooking, his rare smiles, and how dedicated he is to running and staying healthy. I like making him laugh and, eh, watching him sleep. I like how he’s fully concentrated when he’s in the art studio, but most of all, I like how he let me into his life and made a place for me there. I even like the boring Agatha Christie movie adaptations now, not because they’re any good, but because he’s truly obsessed with that shi—I mean,stuff. I even like his nagging and control-freak tendencies most of the time, so yeah, there’s nothing I don’t like…actually, there’s something. He has this habit of putting everyone else’s comfort before his own, or he pretends to be fine when he’s obviously not. I don’t only dislike that. I hate it.”
My wife has fallen into an irreparable puddle on her chair, but she’s not what’s making my blood run cold. It’s the look in Bran’s eyes as his entire body angles in Nikolai’s direction.
It’s awe and affection but also fear. A fear so deep, even I can see it. What is he afraid of?
He doesn’t look to be scared of Nikolai, more like he’s scaredforhim. But why and from what?
There’s also another disturbing emotion. I recognize that look. That’s how I looked when I first realized the depth of the emotions I felt for his mother.
