by Jess Bentley
“Yeah, okay, never mind,” I mumble sarcastically as I slide Anita’s drink down the counter, then catch my breath.
“Well, hey, stranger,” comes a voice so familiar it could have erupted right from the middle of my own brain.
I sway forward, barely collecting my thoughts enough to realize what I’m seeing. It looks like a photograph. Like one of those stylized video images were someone’s avatar is placed in a new environment. Like virtual reality.
He smiles even broader, probably amused by my gape-mouthed expression. His hand drifts up to push a lock of hair off his forehead as his blue-gray eyes glitter with charming delight.
“How did you...”
“Find you?” he finishes for me. “Actually, I didn’t. I had a meeting at Northwestern and just needed some coffee.”
For some dumb reason, my mouth is completely dry. I can barely make sense of what is going on. Words. They are hard.
He grins, his cheeks dimpling into perfect brackets around his smooth, white teeth.
“Did you miss me?”
“Miss you!” I finally blurt out. “Are you kidding me? It’s been three years, Chance!”
“Oh, wow, has it really been that long?” he mutters shyly. “It really just feels like yesterday, Chels.”
My cheeks begin to burn and I realize I am grinning like a fool. It isn’t until Janet clears her throat next to me that I remember other people are in the room.
“Oh, Anita? Here’s your drink…”
Anita comes over, smiling as the dogs tug forcefully on the leashes. She looks transfixed, practically zombified as she stares at Chance like she’s never seen a handsome, self-made millionaire before. Or is he a billionaire? I forget.
“Just take your drink," I suggest, the warning clear in my voice. I want her to take those yippy beasts out of here.
“I’m Janet,” my suddenly motivated coworker announces, sticking out her hand.
“I’m Chance,” he replies. “I’m Chelsea’s brother.”
Janet shoots me that look I saw a million times in high school, the one that says: This is your brother? I want to be friends.
Not bloody likely, Janet.
“Well, can I get you a drink? On the house? What do you like?” I begin to babble, suddenly filled with bubbles and light.
“Sure, just a double shot would be great. Straight up.”
“Oh, straight up!” Janet giggles. “The hard stuff!”
I try not to roll my eyes too obviously as I start prepping his drink. Truthfully, it is a pretty bitter, strong drink. Most people go for something a little milder. But does she have to say it like that?
“Has it really been three years?” he asks, lowering his voice as he positions himself on the opposite side of the espresso machine, closer to me than to Janet.
I nod, counting back mentally. It definitely has. When our parents died in a flash flood outside of Las Vegas, Jack and Chance sold their dating app, and I went to Northwestern. That took three years to unravel. We scattered like leaves in a storm.
I know he knows all of these things, so I don’t have to say them out loud. But yes. It has been three years almost exactly.
“So what have you been up to?” he continues.
I know he is smiling at me, but somehow it is really hard to look up at him. It’s like doing a swan dive backward in time. Right back into a memory where we lived in the same house… Laughed at the same things… Watched movies and played stupid games…
But life is so different now. What can I say? It seems pointless to even try.
“Wow, three years seems impossible,” he mumbles, as though reading my mind. “Like, it all just seems like yesterday…”
“Well, here’s your double shot,” I offer awkwardly, sliding the small porcelain cup across the counter to him. His fingers cover mine for just a moment, resting easily on the back of my knuckles as he takes the drink. When he takes his hand away, I practically expect to see his fingerprints tattooed on my skin.
“So...uh, what’s new?” I chirp brightly, hoping to lighten the mood and maybe keep my cheeks from going completely pink for reasons I don’t understand.
“Oh, let’s see,” he smirks, tipping the tiny coffee cup to his lips. I hear the liquid gently slurping into his mouth, a sound that strikes me as ridiculously sensual. I can vividly imagine the bitterness coating his tongue, the heat invading the space between his cheeks and teeth.
“Well, Jack and I are fathers now,” he murmurs nonchalantly, immediately snapping me out of my vivid visualization of the inside of his mouth.
“I’m sorry… you’re what now?” I stammer. “You’re fathers? As in, both of you?”
He smiles with that gotcha expression he uses for punchlines and other moments of cleverness.
“Oh, I love kids!” Janet coos, taking my temporary muteness as an opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. “Does he look like you?”
Chance gives her a polite smile, then turns back and winks at me. He knows she’s being rude. He knows I don’t like it. As a gesture of loyalty, he’s going to blow her off.
Man, I have missed this guy!
“Yeah, go figure… Jack and I do something at the same time, right? Like that has never happened before?”
Still, I feel a little woozy and hold onto the counter for support. My cheeks are so hot I’m sure that I am blushing, and I can even feel the space where my boobs touch underneath my bra. I’m hot. Sweaty.
“But… kids? I just can’t even imagine it.”
“Yep, two boys!” He nods, and I can see the pride in his expression. “Ned and Matthew. I think you would like them. But I might be biased…”
Janet leans in again, then just as quickly she pushes herself away. I hear the bell on the front door clang lightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Janet pick up a rag out of the bucket of sanitizer and begin wiping like it’s a normal activity for her that she does on her own, without me ever asking or anything. Yeah, right.
Ronnie doesn’t even break his stride as he walks toward Chance and me, but I see the suspicious, edgy expression on his face. He walks right up to Chance, a little too close, and knocks on the counter in front of me.
“Hey, babe,” he sniffs possessively. “You almost done?”
Chance smiles in a friendly way, blatantly ignoring Ronnie’s icy demeanor. It’s weird to see them next to each other. Chance is at least four inches taller. Broader in the shoulder. Thicker neck. Thicker hair, come to think of it. It’s like seeing the before and after picture in some graphic novel about superheroes. If only Ronnie could get that radioactive bug bite, he might have a chance of being as much of a presence.
“Oh, hey, Ronnie… This is Chance,” I stammer.
Chance pivots, sticking out his hand with an open grin. Ronnie squints and takes his hand, and I see the veins and tendons on the back pop out when tries to withstand what must be Chance’s crushing grip. Poor guy.
“Ronnie… It’s Chance? My stepbrother?”
“Oh!” Ronnie flinches, adjusting his expression to be slightly less possessive and jerky. “Chance! Well, of course! I certainly didn’t think that my girl Chelsea was giggling and batting her eyes at some stranger! Good to meet you!”
Chance shoots me a diagonal look before finishing the required handshake and shrugging slightly.
“Nice to meet you too,” he nods, turning back toward me.
“So, hey, we are just in Lake Geneva. Do you ever get up north? We’d love to get reacquainted.”
I start to answer, but Ronnie cuts me off. “Oh, we hardly ever get out of the city,” Ronnie sniffs. “Coffee shop is usually pretty busy on the weekends. Chelsea manages it pretty well! You should be proud!”
Chance holds my gaze for an extra half beat, his silvery blue eyes taking a measure of me, I can feel it. I can almost hear his thoughts, the way he’s comparing Ronnie’s compliment to my education degree. The way he’s assessing that I might be quite responsible for the coffee
shop, perhaps unfairly so.
“Oh, I bet you could get away,” he says to me in a soft, inviting voice that makes me lean forward.
“I can’t remember the last time I had a weekend off,” I confess.
I am painfully aware that Ronnie and Janet are both staring daggers at me. If I dared to take a weekend off, that would mean they’d both have to do weekend shifts. Even Ronnie, and I can’t remember the last time that he actually pulled a shot of espresso. For a guy who loves bragging about how he owns the coffee shop, he sure doesn’t do a lot of actual work here.
“So, let’s do it!” Chance smiles, practically blinding me with that beautiful grin. “I will have a car pick you up? Bring you back. You won’t need to do a thing. We can get all caught up!”
“Oh, we would really love to, but we can’t!” Ronnie interrupts, scoffing like it is just ridiculous that I might make a decision for myself.
Which makes me angry. I don’t know why.
Why is he trying to talk for me? Why is he trying to make decisions for me?
“Will the boys be there?” I ask eagerly, trying to keep my voice even. “Ned, right? And Matthew?”
“I’ll make sure of it!” Chance says, reaching forward to cover my hand with his on the counter.
Again, I get this feeling of dizziness. Of being launched from a height. Like I’ve been standing on the edge of a diving board for a long time, and here he is, the wind that’s going to push me over.
“Well… Yeah!” I breathe. My chest feels like it’s going to burst from the inside.
“Wait, what?” Ronnie blurts out. His eyes are wide with alarm. “What are you talking about? The schedule is already set. You’re just gonna leave?”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Well, obviously we can’t both leave!” I smile blandly. “It’s a good thing you’re going to be here! I’m sure you and Janet will be just fine! Family first!”
“Great!” Chance booms.
He squeezes my hand again, the dry, ridged texture of his palm brushing the tops of my knuckles. I can tell by his expression that he was ready to push the point more forcefully if I didn’t agree right away. He probably made up his mind that I was coming to Lake Geneva the moment he saw me. And whatever Chance wants, eventually he gets.
“I will have a car pick you up on Friday morning, all right? It’s a really short flight, or you could take the drive if you want. Very pretty, if you enjoy that sort of thing.”
Instantly, I remember long car rides with Chance and Jack on either side of me, sleepy and safe as the streetlights swept by, lulled almost to sleep by the warmth and the motion of the car.
“A ride? Like a road trip?” I repeat in wonder. “Actually, that sounds amazing. I would love to do that. Thank you!”
He holds my gaze for a few extra seconds, sending an encoded message right into the middle of my brain. He’s glad to see me. He missed me. He knows I missed him too.
“Anything for you, Chels,” he murmurs, smiling. “Anything at all.”
Chapter 6
Jack
Even though I know what to expect when the doorbell rings, it still takes me completely by surprise. It’s been a very long morning. Chance is in Chicago or Oak Brook or something, meeting with the other tech nerds on our development teams.
He is responsible for making sure all of the social misfit geniuses get our apps working properly before we bring them to market. That’s when I go to work. Once the app is climbing up the chart, I find an investor to pay us a stupid amount of money for it.
We’ve done that six times now since the first one. Home run every time. It’s like magic.
Lake Geneva is convenient for us too. Just over the state line in Wisconsin, it has just the right combination of wilderness and wealth that we wanted. We have never made a secret of the fact that Chance and I are not your average guys. How many grown-ass men live with their brother and their two practically identical kids? We know that. It’s not like we are trying to be hermits, but a certain amount of privacy keeps the dumb questions to a minimum.
And yet, it’s only about an hour and a half from the Chicago metropolitan area. About that long that Chelsea has been in the car with our driver. I think Chance offered her the jet, which is an even faster ride, but she elected the road trip. Good old Chelsea.
Probably it was wrong of us, but I remember Chance and I huddled close around our younger stepsister, thinking and not thinking the sorts of things you would expect from teenage boys. Not quite men. Not serious enough to do things. But serious enough to have those fleeting fantasies. Those moments where we didn’t consider crossing the line for real, but we definitely knew where it was.
Yet, some of my fondest memories are car rides. Chelsea always managed to sit between us, her slender thighs pressed up against ours. For some reason the car always made her fall asleep almost immediately. She was so trusting. So honest. No games or anything like that. Just a sweet girl, happy to be between us, totally satisfied and calm with the affection we all shared for each other.
I totally admit, I wish adult life were that simple. I wish that sort of trust and honesty were available in any other relationship I’ve ever had with a woman.
So I have been imagining it, Chelsea sitting in the middle of the wide backseat of the Mercedes, eagerly staring out the window, her tawny eyes darting to capture every detail of the landscape as it slides past her. Mile after mile, floating away behind her as she got nearer.
And now the doorbell rings.
I swing open the door, already smiling. It takes a moment to appreciate the vision in front of me.
Curly, blonde hair drifts over her shoulders in shiny waves, longer than I ever remember it. Bouncy and healthy, full and luxurious. She still has freckles over the bridge of her narrow, elfish nose. Her eyes sparkle as a smile widens those velvety, pink lips as she pushes up onto her toes and leans forward excitedly.
“Hey, stranger!” she singsongs.
“Hey, yourself!” I answer, reaching out automatically to take her elbow and sweep her inside, enveloping her in a hug and twirling her around, ending with a quick flourish and a dip. She kicks her little foot up into the air, losing her shoe instantly. I hear it clatter to the floor.
“You still dance?” she asks me breathlessly, her cheeks pink, her mouth open in delight.
With a moderate amount of grace, I set her back on her feet and edge away with a small bow. I didn’t know I was going to do that. I’m not sure what overcame me.
“Well, I guess I do,” I quip, covering for the fact that I don’t recall ever dancing with anyone but her.
“You must have been practicing,” she shrugs shyly. “I’m so out of practice! You’re lucky I didn’t trip you or stomp on your feet or anything!”
“Stomp away, Chelsea,” I smile back. “You’re just a little thing. I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried.”
We just stare at each other for a few seconds, standing in the dimly lit atrium entrance. After a while, I realize I am being a terrible host.
“Well, here, let me show you around,” I offer. “This, as you can see, is the entryway. We had it made… for entering.”
She nods slowly, as though seriously considering my humorous description.
“A way into a home… how novel,” she observes.
“Yeah, well, we are innovators,” I shrug.
I hold out my arm and she slips her hand inside my elbow, letting me lead her through the house. She is still a lot smaller than me, and I find myself awkwardly looking/not looking down at her as we walk. What she always this… curvy? Seriously? I’m sure I would have remembered it.
But I don’t want to let that show. Even if we are not blood related, getting a boner for my little sister is not how I want to start this reunion.
We walk to the dining room and kitchen, then do a quick tour of the outdoor gym and swimming pool. She keeps sighing wistfully, shrugging her shoulders even when she isn’t saying anything.
“You know, we really don’t get as much use out of the pool as we used to,” I observe. “Remember? We spent 98 percent of every summer steeping in chlorine.”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “How could I forget?” she breathes. “That was… good. Right? Kind of the ideal childhood, when you think about it?”
I nod seriously. “Yeah. We really had it made. That’s why Chance and I wanted this for Ned and Matthew too. Not that they can really use it yet. But just so they can grow up with the same kind of great stuff we had.”
She smiles up at me, feeling deeply some kind of emotion that I think I understand, even if I can’t put a name to it.
“I bet you’re really good dads,” she says. “That’s nice. That’s exactly what I would’ve hoped.”
Reaching out, I nudge her on the shoulder with my hand, careful not to push too hard, or let my fingers linger too long either.
“Oh, come on now! No mushy stuff or I will have to throw you in the pool!”
“Don’t you dare!” she scoffs. Her hands ball into fists and she plants them on her hips, defensively widening her stance. Little does she know that tickles the part of my brain that definitely wants to throw her in the pool. I wasn’t seriously considering it before, but…
To my surprise, she comes at me first. She lowers her shoulder and dashes forward, circling her arms around my waist, throwing me off balance for a half second. I stumble backward toward the pool, catching myself just in time to counterbalance her assault.
“Whoa! Nice moves, Jackie Chan!” I laugh, ducking to catch her behind the knees. Now I’ve got her in my arms, holding her off the ground where she can’t do any real damage. She wriggles and kicks, and I get the feeling she really is letting loose. She’s like a feral cat in a sack, all elbows and knees, daring me to drop her or take us both into the water. I have to use just a little bit of strength to pin her to me, wrapping her belly against my belly so that she is temporarily immobilized.
“Okay! I give! I give!” I laugh, painfully aware that I have to hold her up high enough that she doesn’t notice my instant, throbbing erection. What can I say? If there is a woman twisting my arms, I’m hard. That’s just how I am made.
