by Celeste, B.
Snapping out of it when Oliver mentions going back home tonight, I frown. Usually he stays for at least a day. But he’s not single anymore—he has someone to go home to.
My heart hurts a little more.
“Want to go into town for some pastries before I leave?” Ollie asks me, nudging my arm with his elbow. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll even get you an extra triple chocolate brownie for later.”
Apparently, my stomach likes the sound of that because it roars to life and makes him laugh. I want to say no, because I’m afraid of who I’ll see. But Oliver can’t know I’m avoiding his best friend because then he’ll ask questions that he definitely can never learn the answers to.
My guilt runs deep for multiple reasons, not just because of Isabel. He’s my brother’s best friend and my family treats him like another child. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the relationships he’s made between the members of my adopted family.
Ollie knows I trust Everett, but he doesn’t need to know the boundaries that are now splayed open between us.
I tell Oliver I’d love to go with a forced smile he doesn’t seem to see through. Out of the two of them, Ollie and Everett, he isn’t the one who knows when I’m pretending. It’s eerie how well Everett can see through my lies.
It’s going on four o’clock, and if Oliver wants to leave before dark, that means we only have a few hours together. It also means he’s probably going to drop some big news and then leave. Well, not before getting me chocolate. I guess I’m getting more perks than our parents.
After we’re digging into the pot roast dinner, Oliver’s favorite, and Robert makes small talk about Oliver’s work, which he doesn’t understand any more than Bridgette and I do, he reveals the big reason he came.
I know it’s serious because he sets down his fork and everything. Oliver is always eating something, so it makes me nervous. “The company I’m working for is opening a new branch that they’ve asked me to run.”
Bridgette claps. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
A big, proud smile stretches across Robert’s face as he reaches over and squeezes Oliver’s shoulder. I just smile when he looks at me, but he sees how happy I am for him. It’s the one thing I let stay written on my face.
Oliver clears his throat. “It’s in Chicago.”
Bridgette makes a tiny noise that I think only I hear. Robert’s hand stills on Oliver’s shoulder, and then drops.
“Chicago?” I ask. “As in … Illinois?”
“The very one.”
Bridgette dabs her napkin across her lips. “Wow, Ollie. That’s … it’s amazing news. Really.”
He gives her an unsure smile. “Really?”
Robert composes himself. “Chicago has a lot of great opportunities, and it sounds like this one would be silly to pass up, son.”
Relief is evident on Oliver’s face, and his whole body eases into his chair. “I’m glad you guys think so. I was a bit worried, to be honest.”
“It’s a long way away from New York,” Bridgette admonishes, “but I’ve always wanted to visit the windy city. Perhaps during its less windy season.”
Seeing the support from Robert and Bridgette makes me even happier for Ollie. I mean, I’m sad that he’s leaving. Really sad. But I don’t want him to see that. He’s grown up in ways I don’t think he’s even acknowledged yet, but I do. It’s easier to see how people have changed when you’re a fly on the wall, experiencing everyone in their natural state. He’s got a girlfriend, a job, and now he’s moving away.
His family is proud of him like they always are, like he works so hard for them to be.
It makes me wonder if I can ever find the type of strength to do what he’s done. Visiting California for a few months is nothing like moving there permanently. The idea of separating myself from the one place I’ve learned I can depend on sounds terrifying. When you grow up not belonging, and finally find that forever kind of place, it feels like the destination you’ve been searching for all along.
“River?”
I blink. “Huh?”
Oliver chuckles. “I asked what you thought about it.”
I reach over and grab his hand, which makes his lips curl up. “I’m really, really happy for you. But the free desserts you buy me will be missed.”
Everyone laughs.
“And I’ll miss you,” I add, smiling.
He flips his hand over, so he can squeeze mine once. “You’re the little sister I never knew I wanted, River. But I’m glad I got you. And I’m really proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished.”
Emotion threatens to leak from me in any way possible; tears, word vomit, sobbing. I take a few deep breaths and try avoiding the tear-filled gaze Bridgette watches us with.
“And you’re the … brother … I’ve always wanted,” I whisper.
I think even Ollie wants to cry.
I think I’m made of more chocolate than water and blood. If a doctor tried drawing anything from my veins, I think it’d be in some form of yummy melted sugar. It’s really no shock I’m bordering the “average” weight category now.
Oliver has a cup of coffee, bitter black with no cream or sugar, and a corn muffin in front of him. He’s picking it apart, like there’s something on his mind.
Biting into the brownie, I take my time savoring the sweet flavor. “So … how’s your girlfriend?”
A knowing smirk lifts the corners of his lips. “She’s no longer holding that title since the promotion was offered to me.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Ollie.”
His shoulders lift. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. She’s a good girl who loves being near her family.”
“But if it’s love, she should want to be with you,” I find myself whispering. That’s what true love is—making sacrifices and changes for the other person.
His eyes are dull and sad, but he doesn’t let it drag down his lips. “Oh, River. I like that you think that. But love isn’t so black and white, okay? It’s a complicated thing.”
I lean back, frowning. “But it shouldn’t be. Love is … love.” My voice is weak, my belief nothing but shattered expectations that I know first-hand.
Maybe he’s right. Everett and I aren’t black and white. We’re technicolor, too blinding to sort through.
A thought crosses my mind. “Is that why you never introduced us to her?”
“Yeah. I want to make sure the girl I introduce to my family is the one, you know? It’s … yeah, shit, it’s cheesy.” He doesn’t wince when he swears or tries correcting himself. “I want to show her off because I know we’re it for each other, that she’s the only one.”
All I can do is stare at my half-eaten brownie. My appetite is nonexistent, even for chocolate, because now I’m wondering about Everett. He doesn’t have family to introduce Isabel to, but has she introduced him to hers? They’ve been together for ten years—a whole decade. There’s no way he hasn’t been around her parents before.
“Hey.” He taps my hand. “What’s up?”
My throat tightens. “Just thinking.”
He waits.
“Um …” I force myself to break off another piece of my brownie. The frosting on top gets on my fingers, so I lick it off. “I guess I was just wondering when you think you’ll meet the one?”
I’m not thinking that at all. Though Oliver is twenty-six, he’s bound to find someone eventually. And Chicago is a big city, he’ll probably meet the love of his life there. My mind just doesn’t want to wander to depths I can’t resurface from, depths that involve my brother’s best friend.
“I don’t know.” He takes a big bite of his muffin again, nearly finishing it. “But if you’re worried that I’ll somehow forget about you if I do, you’re wrong. You’re my sister, River. You’re a big part of my life. Nobody can get in the way of that.”
Wetting my bottom lip, I nod.
While the conversation is still hot, I redirect the subject. “Do you think Everett found the one? You know, with Isabel
?”
His tongue clicks, like he’s wondered that himself. “You know how I said love isn’t black and white?” I nod. “Well, I think that applies to Everett and Isabel the most,” he tells me. When he sees my confusion, he enlightens me. “Not everything is what it seems, Riv. Everett is a man of his word, and even if it kills him, he keeps it.”
I’m still not sure what he means, but I don’t ask. If I do, I risk him suspecting my intentions with the answers. What I do know is that Everett Tucker promised Isabel something and now he’ll take that to his grave.
He deserves to be happy, but I don’t think he feels the same way. And if I were him, maybe I’d think it too. Even if he decided to be happy, that doesn’t mean he’d choose me.
He already did, hope whispers in my ear.
But I know better than to believe a silly thing like that.
22
Everett / 27
Painter’s Choice is barely lit when I pass by after five on Friday night. Work dragged significantly since our last deal closed, which means there’s a lot of sitting around and doing nothing. I texted Oliver to see if he wanted to grab some drinks, but he said he wouldn’t be back in town until Sunday.
Knowing Isabel would be out with her friends like she has been every night this week, I don’t feel like going back to an empty apartment. Not when I feel like the walls are caving in around me.
I turn into the studio, listening to the little bell chime. It closes in twenty-five minutes, so it doesn’t surprise me to see the main room cleaned up and chairs resting upside down on the tables.
Making my way toward the back office, I’m surprised to see a blonde-haired woman sitting at the desk. When she hears me at the door, she glances up from the computer screen.
Clearing my throat, I stuff my hands in my black slack’s pockets. “Sorry, I thought someone else would be here.”
She smiles, leaning back. “You’re here for River, right? I’ve seen you around before.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I’m Melanie. I work with River.”
Ah, her boss. I’ve heard about her from River over the years. She used to tell me how much she looked up to her. I expected someone much older, but I doubt she’s even forty.
“Anywho,” she dismisses, “I sent River upstairs about half an hour ago. Our last class canceled on us and we haven’t had any walk ins, so it’s been a slow evening.”
I know how that feels.
“Well, thank you.”
Located on the second floor of this building, right above the art studio, is River’s two-bedroom apartment. It’s small, and the second bedroom doesn’t have anything specific in it, like she can’t decide what to do with the space. I keep offering to build her bookshelves, so she doesn’t have to have her little collection of novels stacked on her desk in the bedroom, but she never lets me.
She moved in almost two years ago, though sometimes still spends the night at the James’s house. I think it’s nights when she’s feeling off, when she needs familiarity. I wonder if she left her bed the morning after we had sex to go back to her childhood bedroom.
When she announced that the space was offered to her, Robert and Bridgette told her she’d always have her bedroom at their house. I helped them move her stuff in, since Oliver was away. The full bed, dresser, and desk are all new courtesy of her parents. So are the small appliances like her microwave, coffee pot, and crockpot. Those Oliver and I bought her. She insisted on buying everything else—a used couch from a thrift shop down the road, a coffee table that looks like a dog gnawed on three of the four legs, and a TV stand with a miniscule television that I’m not sure even gets used.
Bridgette always makes a face when she sees the hand-me-downs littering River’s apartment, but I think it suits River better than any new furniture could. She worked hard and saved money for every item she bought and fought tooth and nail on the things we got her. It took Oliver convincing her that it makes their parents feel better knowing they can provide for her. It’s not a lie, not some trick to get her to submit. Naturally, River is the daughter of two of the most caring people I’ll ever know. They want to make sure she’s taken care of.
When my feet hit the narrow wooden steps that lead up to her apartment, I loosen my gray tie and roll my shoulders back. She won’t like me showing up unexpectedly, but I won’t give her another option. I’m not asking for much, just her company.
The landing just before the roughed-up door creaks under my weight as I raise my knuckles to the wood. Knocking lightly, I take a step back and listen to muffled shuffling before the deadbolt turns and the door opens.
Her lips part when she sees me, her eyes swarming with confusion and surprise, but I don’t let her get a word in. “Do you want to grab a burger with me?”
She stands there staring at me with wide eyes. It gives me a second to note the black sweatpants and loose white tee she’s wearing, which she must have changed into after work. Her hair is tossed into a messy bun, with a few auburn strands fallen and framing her face.
Shifting on her feet, she studies me warily. “Burgers? Is that, um, a good idea?”
“Have you eaten?”
She pauses, then shakes her head.
“Then, yes,” I conclude, “I think it’s a great idea. I’m hungry and your brother isn’t around, so I need a dinner companion.”
Once the words are out, I internally cringe. I set myself up for the skepticism crossing River’s face, because we both know there’s one person who should be my dinner companion on any given day.
Wetting my bottom lip, I jut my thumb behind me. “Listen, all I’m suggesting is a quick dinner. Neither of us have eaten, and we’re friends. Friends eat together.”
They also have unbelievably hot sex sometimes.
I don’t add that part.
She hesitates, worrying her lips and glancing between me and the floor. Her shoulders drop, showing her resolve. That and the small sound of her rumbling stomach.
“Let me change,” she finally answers, stepping aside to let me in. I take one big step into her familiar territory before she closes the door behind me. “Um … just, uh, make yourself comfortable. There may be some bottled water in the fridge or something if you want a drink. Which you probably don’t, since we’re going out and all. Not out, out!”
Pressing my lips together to mash down my wavering amusement, I study her reddened cheeks. She’s cute when she’s mumbling, and even cuter when she’s embarrassed. The faint color of her blush makes her cheekbones pop in a way that highlights her natural beauty.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then points toward her bedroom. “I’m going to stop talking now and go put on real clothes.”
With that, she disappears into her room, clicking the door shut behind her. Thoughts of her beautiful body surface in my mind. Her luscious skin and full curves are unforgettable.
I settle on the couch, throwing my arm across the back and crossing my ankle over my opposite knee. Her apartment has a few photos lingering on the walls, and if memory serves, the one of her and her biological mother is in her bedroom. The ones displayed in the living room area are of Bridgette and Robert, and another of them with Oliver. On the corner of the TV stand is an image of the five of us at her graduation party, all dressed up and smiling at the camera.
I’m sure she has more, probably some of her and Stephanie or the other friends she’s still in contact with. But it seems like the people that mean the most to her are on display for everyone to see in the main room.
I smile knowing I’m still one of those people.
When her door reopens, my eyes go to the tight skinny jeans hugging her long legs. Her hips flare in a way I don’t remember them doing before, and the denim is clad against her pert ass. That I do remember. Well. My gaze flicks to the black sweater that hangs off one of her shoulders as if it’s too large for her, yet it seems to narrow into the curve of her hourglass figure unapologetically. I guess that’s the style, a
nd I have no complaints. River looks beautiful.
Her hair is still in a messy bun, which makes me smile. She usually has it down unless she’s working on some art project, but I prefer it up, so she can’t hide from me. I don’t want her to hide around me. Not tonight, not ever.
“Ready?” I ask casually, pushing up off the couch.
“I feel underdressed,” she murmurs, scoping out my typical workwear. I could have gone and changed out of my slacks, button-down, and tie, but I didn’t want to. There’s a chance I wouldn’t have come here if I went home first.
“You look fine, River.” More than fine. But fine seems like a safer word than beautiful, no matter how badly I want to see those cheeks pinken again.
She slides on a pair of ballet flats by the door and grabs her jacket from the iron hook on the wall. It’s not cold out, but I know she freezes easily.
I open the door for her and make sure it’s locked before we make our way downstairs. Melanie is just walking out of her office and waves when we head toward the front door. River has keys to the front and back doors as well as two sets to her apartment. I think she comes downstairs and paints whenever she feels the touch of her muse.
When the night air cascades around us, River is glancing at anything but me; the storefronts, the streetlights, other bystanders walking down the opposite side of the street.
“Where did you want to go?” I prompt, keeping my hands stuffed safely in my pockets. Hers are wrapped around her jacket and hugged close to her chest. She’s already cold, but she doesn’t want to show her discomfort.
Her response makes me chuckle. “I thought you had a plan since you asked me to dinner.”
Grinning, I nudge our shoulders. “I have an idea, but I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for. Obviously, the diner has great burgers and kickass milkshakes. But Undercover East has specialty burgers.”
I have a feeling I’ll know which she’ll pick, so I slow my pace since one of them is closer than the other.
She exhales softly. “I have been craving a chocolate milkshake for a while now.”
