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"Yeah, I'm a numbers guy, not a words guy. What would you suggest?”
“Baxter Heartbreak Holes."
"Wow. We suck at this."
"I thought it was catchy."
"Thanks, bro. Holes is hard to make sound poetic."
"Anyway, back to our brother. When Theodore called and said we had to come right over I knew we had to be worried but not this worried."
Kylian steps into the kitchen, grabs the empty bottle of Calvados and sniffs it. "Never liked that stuff."
"Maybe you'd prefer this," Matthias says, handing Kylian a half full bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII.
"Definitely, now we're talking."
Damien joins them, sniffing the empty bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream I’d dumped right down the drain. "What have you got for me?"
"I thought your married life meant you were cutting back, what would your wittle kitten say?" Matthias snickers, holding up a bottle of twenty-four year old Yamazaki Japanese whiskey.
Damien glares at him. "You know, being in love has not made you less of a jerk. Guess that's what you get for being engaged my ex."
Matthias grins. "I like how you bring that up only when it suits you."
“Guys. Hey.” Kylian slaps his two older brothers’ backs and they block me as I try to pass them in the kitchen, a mixing bowl in my hands. "Who goes there?"
"It is I,Kingsley. The owner of there."
Matthias clicks his tongue. "Actually, grandfather leftallof us this house, remember? He just said you could live in it until you die. But then it would go back to the joint estate."
"All I'm hearing is that you're still in my way. Move before my cake burns." I push through them, opening the oven door, and pull out the baking tray. "Thank god. I forgot to set the timer. I'm just going to let it cool here before I soak it.” I say, tipping the cake out of the tin. “Hey, one of you want to taste the non-alcoholic whiskey syrup I made? I created that recipe special. It's so delicious.”
Six eyes follow me as I run around the kitchen, mixing frosting in a bowl, while I test the cooling tarts I have on a rack in themiddle of the kitchen island. Six sourdough loaves prove in their baskets, waiting for their turn in the second oven.
Matthias pushes the trays to the side, making room for him to jump up to sit on the kitchen island. "Okay, you were right. We should be worried. Drowning his sorrows in the bottle of rum makes much more sense than filtering the rum through processed carbs first."
Kylian smacks his lips. "I dunno, this tastes pretty good."
"Kylian! Please tell me you did not just lick that spoon and then dip it back in the syrup," I yell at my youngest brother who drops the spoon back into the pot and stands like a blue-eyed deer in headlights.
"Er, nah, you imagined it. Too many sugar fumes. Speaking of which, when's the last time you ate something."
I scrape my knife down the soaked vanilla pod and drop the paste into the mixing bowl. "Been eating all weekend. Had to taste test these recipes before they go out to the bakery stall."
Damien and Matthias share a look. "And what bakery is that? Is the bakery"— Matthias drops his voice— ”talking to you right now?
"Ha. Ha. No. Henry in marketing mentioned his kid was having a bakery stall at their school fair, and he and his wife didn't bake so I said I'd throw some things together. These are going to go like hot cakes. Let me tell you. Huh. Should I make hot cakes?"
"Um, you know what? I think you need to sit down."
"No!" I shout, and then take a deep breath, and then plaster a smile on my face. "I have work to do."
"Do you mean like actually work or…" Matthias waves his arm over the cupcakes.
"Matthias. At some time, with all the sex that you and Clarissa have—”
Damien gags. "Gross, we agreed I wouldn't have to hear about that."
