It sounded like a lot of work, and probably more than some would want for a dining room set, but I’d fallen in love with woodworking when I was younger, and now it was a passion that had somehow become my career. The pieces I made weren’t for everyone, and many of the crafts I worked on weren’t high-end. The more highly detailed projects that took longer and went for a higher price supplemented some of my other smaller projects.
I hummed along to the music, getting into my work. Now, I could be an artist, a craftsman. That was something Arden would call me, not something I usually called myself. The more I thought about it, however, the more I didn’t mind the term. I was getting better at realizing who I was, even if that idea seemed to change some days.
I got to a stopping point and went back over my work to see if there was anything I needed to touch up before I called it a night. I wanted to get back to my place since my brothers were heading over soon for beers and dinner. I didn’t want to be the last one there, considering it was my house.
I’d invited Arden, but she had a girls’ night scheduled with her sisters-in-law, so I let her be. I loved that she had another support system now, but I still wanted to be all big brother and wrap her in cotton wool.
It was hard not to be a little overbearing when her husband was out of town. All I wanted to do was make sure that she was doing well and continuously check up on her.
I put away my tools, cleaned up my station, turned off the music, and rolled my shoulders back as I headed out to the central area of the building. Chris was there, texting furiously. My guard instantly went up.
I didn’t want to deal with him. I had been doing a decent job of ignoring him for the past couple of days, but that wasn’t the best thing. After all, we still had to talk about exactly what we were doing with this business. And he had been avoiding me, just like I had been avoiding him.
Chris looked up from his phone before I had a chance to think about what I was going to say.
“Oh. Good. You’re done. I was just heading out, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I was just on my way out, too. Is there something you wanted?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood to figure out what to do with Chris, and I actually had somewhere to be. Things had quieted down since I’d told him we needed to talk. I didn’t think that everything would get better overnight, though. I really did need to either dissolve the partnership or find a better solution. Still, for now, he was acting as if everything was at least marginally on the level. And he wasn’t annoying me that much.
The fact that that was my hard limit should worry me.
“Oh. Anything fun tonight?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he was actually interested.
When had we come to this? Chris used to be my friend. I had irrevocably tied my business and future to this man, and yet I didn’t seem to know him anymore. Had I changed? Or had he?
Maybe it was the mixture of the two that had ruined it. “Just hanging out with my brothers.”
Chris smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t get along with my brothers. Mostly because Chris always tried to make sure they knew that he made good money. My brothers did well for themselves, too. But it was never good enough for Chris. Seriously, I needed to fix this. However, tonight wasn’t the time to do it.
“Ah. Well then, have fun. I have a meeting with that client. You know? Cassidy?”
No, I didn’t know her, but that was the point. Wasn’t it? “Going to 59th?”
“Yes, that’s the plan, at least at first. We’ll see where it leads.”
My brows rose. “She’s your client. You’ll see where what leads?”
He waved his hand at me. “You know I don’t mix business with pleasure.” He winked.
That was a lie.
“Anyway, I have things to do, and I’m sure you do, too. From the music, it sounded like you were really into it. Would you mind showing me what you’re working on?”
“Maybe. I’m still at the stage where it’s not ready for eyes.” I had locked the door behind me, and he didn’t have a key. Nor did I have a key to his studio. That’s how it had always been. This was our art, and it was personal.
I didn’t know exactly why I didn’t want to show him. It just felt like something of mine, and I didn’t want to share it.
Or maybe I was being paranoid.
Hell, that was just one more nail in the coffin, wasn’t it?
“I see,” Chris said, his voice smooth, if a little icy.
What did he see?
Chris continued. “I won’t keep you, then. Have fun with your brothers. Wish me luck with this client.”
“Is this the project you’re hoping to make a lot of money on?”
“Oh, that’s another one, but that’s already on the line. Don’t you worry, I’ll be raking in the cash soon. You’ll wish you had joined me.”
“I’m doing just fine, Chris.”
“And that’s your problem, Cross. You’re always just fine.”
And on that note, Chris walked out, leaving me to close up the rest of the building. I didn’t mind as it was something I did most days. But hell, he was really good at putting me in a shitty mood.
I got into my car and made it to my house, thankfully before my brothers got there, and quickly pulled out the lasagna I had made that morning. I shoved it into the oven, not bothering to preheat the damn thing, knowing that likely wasn’t smart, but whatever. I really wasn’t in the mood. And Arden was the better cook. I just followed her directions and used the sauce that she had put in my freezer.
The doorbell rang, and then Prior walked in, Macon and Nate with him.
I shook my head. “At least you rang the doorbell.”
“You know us. We walk where we’re not wanted,” Macon said, a mock growl in his voice.
“Oh, shut up. You know you’re wanted. I was just surprised that you rang the doorbell at all.”
“We do have manners,” Prior said, grinning. “And we brought beer and bread.”
Nate moved to the kitchen island. “And I brought Italian salad fixings. You know, with the homemade dressing that Arden made for us that tastes just like the Olive Garden kind?”
“Hell yeah,” I said, smirking. “You know, I’m sure Mom would want us to have wine with this, but I could really use a fucking beer.”
“It was in the cooler in the car, so it’s still cold,” Macon said, uncapping one and handing it to me. We each took a beer, clinked bottles, and I chugged half of mine as the others stared at me after they’d taken their sips.
“You want to talk about it, big brother?” Prior asked.
“I fucking hate my job,” I growled and then went to the oven to check on the lasagna.
“Chris is a douchebag. You need to dissolve the partnership. You don’t need him.”
I looked at Nate. “I might not need him for the clients I have, but a lot of our reputation is tied up in the two of us.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” Macon said, frowning. “You guys have completely separate client lists at this point. Most of the time, you have to explain the Chris part of your Chris Cross company name,” he added.
I shook my head. “I just don’t know. I have a bad feeling.”
“Come and help me with the salad, and then cut up some bread and finish your beer. Then, you can have another, and we can figure this out.”
“You know, given all our jobs, I just wish one of us was a fucking lawyer,” I grumbled.
Macon shrugged. “Sorry, big bro. We all decided to do our own things.”
“Yes, I know, but I could really use some legal advice.”
“I bet we know someone,” Prior added.
“I thought once Liam got back from his tour, I’d talk to him.”
“Or you can shoot him an email now,” Nate said. “And not wait until he gets back. It’s going to be what, a couple of weeks?”
“I know, but then I’ll have to talk to Chris, and I don’t want to,” I grumbled.
“Maybe. Thanks. The guy I used retired,” I said.
“They tend to do that once they reach seventy,” Prior said. I rolled my eyes.
“Anyway, the lasagna will be a bit. I was late because I was into my work, then I got delayed even more with Chris.”
“No worries,” Nate said. “I could probably eat this entire salad on my own, though.”
“That’s why I brought a shit ton of bread,” Prior said.
“I’m going to have to work out twice as hard tomorrow morning before my shift if I’m going to work this off,” Macon said, tapping his flat abs.
“I’m sorry it’s happening this way,” Prior said, his voice soft as Macon and Nate began to set the table.
“Me, too,” I said, sighing. “I honestly didn’t know it was like this until I looked up at him one day and realized I hated him. Like, what the fuck?”
“He was always a bit egotistical, but who wasn’t?” Prior said.
“I hope I wasn’t that bad,” I said wryly.
“No, you were too self-deprecating to be that bad,” Nate said surprisingly.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It took Arden practically shoving your art in your face for you to realize that you had talent,” Nate explained.
“That’s not true.” At least, I didn’t think it was.
“Totally true,” Macon added.
“You’ve always put others before yourself, and thought that what you did on the side when you were in high school working at that carpenter shop to help pay for your car was just a fun little hobby. I know you went to school for business, thinking that you were going to open a shop with your art. But we all know that wasn’t the case,” Prior said.
I stood there, shocked. “What? Of course, I went in knowing what I wanted to do.”
“No, you went in telling yourself that you were going to go for your dreams, but you always had a fallback plan of some form of business. Something that you could contribute to, but that wasn’t about art on the surface. Because you were too damn scared,” Nate said, and I frowned.
“Scared?”
Macon rolled his eyes. “See. You went too damn far with that. Now, he’s going to be a growly asshole all night. Look at him with that big beard of his. Oh, like a big bear with a thorn in his paw.”
I flipped them all off. “You know what? Fuck you. So I don’t always believe in myself.”
“But you believed in us,” Prior said softly, and I looked up at him.
“You always did,” Nate said. “And if Mom and Dad hadn’t saved for college as they did, and if we hadn’t gotten scholarships and gone to smaller state schools, you probably would have found a way to pay for all of us.”
“I mean, we’re still trying to find ways to shove money into Arden’s hands, and she’s married to a millionaire,” Prior said sarcastically.
“She shouldn’t have to rely on him,” I said. “Plus, she makes good money herself. It’s not my fault the American healthcare system is shitty to the point where she can’t afford to do anything, even with fucking great insurance,” I grumbled.
“You know, that soapbox was getting a little dusty,” Prior said wryly.
“Oh, shut up. You know you’re ranting right alongside me,” I said.
“That is true. We all rant about it. However, back to the point,” Macon added. “You look at who you are now, and at the art you create, and you believe in yourself. But you didn’t let yourself put that foot forward until much later. And now, you’re someone who sees what you’re worth—at least what you think you’re worth, even though I still feel like you’re worth a bit more,” Macon added with a shrug. “Anyway, you see that, but I don’t think Chris sees the same. He’s always wanted to be better. Or at least seen to be.”
“And ensuring he was the one making lots of deals, getting the best clients, and making really fucking good money while making furniture? Nobody truly believes that happens anymore,” Prior said.
“I know, we’re a niche market, but millionaires and billionaires need fancy shit when they’re not buying antiques,” I said.
“And don’t knock your clientele,” Nate said. “They do pay your bills.”
“They do, and I don’t always work only for the millionaires and billionaires. Believe me. It’s the custom pieces I like, and the ones I can donate to. But still, I guess you’re right. I am doing marginally better than Chris these days.”
“That you know. For all you know, you’re doing a fuck ton better than he is, and he just keeps lying.”
“I see the money he makes,” I said.
“You see what he reports to the IRS,” Macon said.
My heart raced. “I’ll look into that. But, fuck. Our accountant is good, and even though I’m making more money than he is right now, it’s got to be the truth. Steve wouldn’t fuck around with my money.”
“True, I just don’t trust Chris.”
“Was it always this way?” I asked.
“No,” Prior said. “It’s a new thing.”
“Enough of this introspective shit,” Nate said, grinning. “Now, Arden says you went on a date?” he asked, and the others looked at me.
“I’m going to box her ears,” I grumbled.
“Hey, why didn’t she tell me?” Macon asked.
“Or me? I’m her favorite twin.” Nate leaned forward.
“You’re her only twin,” the three of us said, and then laughed.
“I see where I stand,” Nate said.
“But, really, Arden told you?” I asked. “She’s usually good at keeping secrets from us.” Nate flinched, and I had to wonder what kind of secrets Nate had. But if he was keeping them from me, he probably had a reason.
“She sort of blurted it out,” Prior said, blushing. “She was really apologetic, and I wasn’t supposed to mention it, but then I felt bad about the secret. So, she didn’t mean to say it, and she didn’t tell me anything other than that you had a date. Then she slapped her hand over her mouth and kicked me out of the house.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “That sounds like Arden. And since she already sounds like she’s apologetic, I won’t have to punish her.”
“Good, because if you did, we’d have to beat you, and then it’d be a whole thing,” Prior said.
“True.
“So?” Nate asked.
Macon raised a brow, silent as ever.
“It was a date. Her name was Hazel. She’s nice.” I didn’t want to go into more detail since I was still figuring my shit out.
“And?” Prior pressed. “Are you going on another?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Just...we’ll see.”
I wasn’t in the mood to get into too many details, and thankfully, they didn’t ask for more. Mostly because the oven timer went off, and it was dinnertime.
They helped me move the lasagna out of the oven, and then we waited for it to cool while we chomped down on salad, and then ate some amazing pasta thanks to Arden’s recipe. We also gorged ourselves with bread, and I finished my second beer while they were still on their firsts. The rest of them were driving, though the fact that they had all timed it so they would arrive at the same time just made me laugh.
We were our parents’ children, always arriving five minutes before the allotted time, fifteen minutes if it wasn’t family.
After dinner, they helped with the dishes, and then I walked them out, knowing we all had to work the next day. It was nice to have some family time, and considering that four of the five of us were single, it was easier than with most families. Arden’s new family was all married now, or at least on the verge of getting married. Some of them were even having babies. That meant it was harder for Arden to get to dinners with all of them than it was for her to hang out with us. Maybe one day, when the rest of them finally settled down like our little sister had, getting together would
be harder. But as it was, I liked the way things were. I liked being able to have time with my family, even if my parents had moved away.
I talked to them weekly, but it wasn’t the same. Ever since they’d left, it’d just been the five of us kids, closer than ever.
I pulled out my phone and wondered if I should call them, and then thought of something different.
Something that probably wasn’t the best idea, or maybe it was the perfect one.
Me: Hey, are you awake?
Hazel: It’s like 7:30. What time do you think I go to sleep?
I grinned.
Me: It’s a school night. For all I know, this is your bedtime.
Now I was thinking about her in bed, and I didn’t like that my cock hardened. I didn’t know her well enough to start fantasizing about her. At least that’s what I told my dick.
Hazel: I was just grading papers. You know us teachers, the red pen tells all.
I winced.
Me: That was like the worst part of doing homework, seeing what I fucked up on.
Hazel: You said you got your degree, so I guess you didn’t fuck up that bad. Plus, there’s a lot of math in your job. I’m sure you’re pretty good at it.
Me: Just not calculus, which is fine, that can be all you.
Hazel: I’m glad you texted. Kind of.
From what I knew about her, I knew that had to be hard, opening herself up even just a little. So I did the same. After all, we were both trying to figure out precisely what this was, accidental date or not.
Me: I’m glad I texted as well.
I let out a breath.
Me: So, can I take you out this weekend?
There was a long enough pause that I thought maybe I’d fucked up. Was I moving too fast? Or did she just want to be friends? Hell, I really wasn’t good at this.
Hazel: Maybe. I have a lot of things to think about, though.
I had no idea what to do about that cryptic comment. Before I could say anything else, she texted again.
Hazel: I have to get back to grading, but thanks for texting. Good to know you’re not an asshole.
I frowned and texted back.
Me: Good to know. Sleep tight, Hazel.
Hazel: You too.
Forever Only Once: A Promise Me Novel Page 7
