Brothers of Paradise Series

She gives an elegant shrug. There’s something about her hair, plaited down her back, and her face without makeup that makes me feel off-kilter. Last night had been explosive, but this feels intimate. It’s too easy to imagine that this is our life, our habits, our damn bed to share.

“You needed the sleep,” she says. “We’re not behind on schedule. I updated your laptop while I was at it and wrapped your sister’s wedding gift.”

There’s brisk professionalism in her tone. Not a trace of what happened last night. So that’s how she wants to play it. She wants distance.

I grab a cup and head to the coffeemaker. “Nice armor,” I say.

She bristles, just like I expected her to. “What do you mean?”

I nod to where her laptop is propped open. “Work. Tasks. Muffins. It’s a straightforward tactic, but it’s working. How early did you wake up this morning?”

“Early enough.”

“Tell me,” I say. It’s a small thing, but some part of me needs to know if she slept as well as I did-if my presence beside her helped or harmed. Maybe it’s my pride or my ego, I don’t know.

Faye sighs and turns off the heat on the stove. Bacon crackles in the pan. “Fine. I woke up about an hour and a half ago. Is that precise enough or do you want an exact time stamp?”

I smile into my coffee cup. “That’ll do.”

“It took me forever to find a whisk, you know.”

“I’m sure. It’s a new kitchen for you.”

She pushes a tendril of hair back. “We should still be able to get an hour of work in. Honestly, Henry, I think we’re very close to being finished. You should be able to commission a new model next week with time to spare.”

I knew that already. “Excellent.”

“Would you pass me the spatula? The one in the sink?”

I hand it to her and watch in silence as she handles the stove like a pro. This blanket of domesticity wasn’t part of my masterplan, coming here together this weekend… but I’m finding that I like it.

“We should talk about this,” I say.

“About what?”

“Last night.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You wound me, Faye.”

She looks up at me, and as she finally meets my eye, a beautiful flush creeps over her cheeks. “All right,” she says softly. “Let’s talk about it, then.”

And all of a sudden, I have no idea what to say.

I want to hear her say that she doesn’t regret it-that we’re still us-that embarrassment has never belonged in the space between us. I want to tell her other things too, things that are buried deep, about how much I like her. That I’ve been avoiding relationships for so long, but with her, the hassle doesn’t seem like a hassle at all.

But that’s not what comes out.

“Guess I won the point, huh.”

Faye rolls her eyes and adds yet another pancake to the stack. She’s making enough food to feed an army, not that my brothers will object. “Yes, I guess you did.”

And after that, there’s really nothing more to say.

We work in near silence for the next hour. I glance over at her, but she’s bent over her laptop. Our only conversation topic is the opera house.

As I rotate the opera house in the digital system, I’m struck again by its beautiful simplicity. It’s the best thing I’ve ever designed. The jury might not choose it-an outcome I haven’t let myself consider much-but I’ll still be proud of it. It’s been a way to connect with the reason I chose architecture in the first place.

I glance over at Faye. She’s biting her lip, a look of deep concentration on her beautiful features. She’s taught me that too, I think. Her unbridled passion for architecture shamed my own lack of it, when we first met. It’s not the structure that’s rekindled it-it’s her. She showed me the way back to my love of work.

Rhys and Parker arrive just after eleven. Faye smiles and tells them to help themselves to the food in the kitchen before she graciously slips away to get ready for the wedding. The door to her bedroom closes, and then I hear the faint sound of the shower running.

Damn. I’ve fucked up somehow, lost the closeness we had last night. I think of the way Avery described me. Emotionally uninvolved. That’s not the way I feel with Faye.

“Man, this looks amazing. Faye did all this?” Parker grabs a stack of pancakes, bacon and eggs, dousing it all in maple syrup. “Henry, if you don’t marry her, I will.”

Rhys smiles wryly at the look on my face and pours himself a cup of coffee. “You look shell-shocked. You two had an argument?”

I shake my head. “A misunderstanding. I think.”

“You were in the wrong. When in doubt, you’re in the wrong. If I’ve learned anything with women, it’s that you apologize often and sincerely.” Parker grins at me. “I know it might be hard for you to do, though.”

“That advice is terrible,” Rhys drawls. “You completely lack a backbone.”

Parker smiles, but doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t have to. We both know that Rhys is the one who’s been running from his problems for over a decade, but nothing good would come of us pointing out that lack of a backbone. My middle brother has been an enigma since he was born.

I grab a plate and fill up on food. “I didn’t know she could cook.”

“How long have you known Faye? You haven’t told us a word, man.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

“About a month.”

“Seems a lot longer,” Rhys says. “The way she stood up to good old Dad? Henry, Parker might marry her for her cooking, but I’d marry her for that.”

I run a hand through my still-damp hair. They’re right, both of them, and it just makes me feel worse. I didn’t handle things right this morning, not at all. What happened last night wasn’t something to joke about.

“Fuck. I know. I’ll fix it.” I glance over at her bedroom door. There’s a faint sound of a blow-dryer whizzing, but I don’t want to take any chances. “Now come on. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I’m Hayden’s best man. We’re all serving as his groomsmen. I know that it means a lot to him, not that he’d tell us.”

“You’re not giving me any new information here.”

“Man, you are testy today. Could you turn down the Henry-ness just a notch? I was thinking that we could do something at the reception. I know you have a speech planned.”

“I do.”

“Rhys and I considered that too, but then we thought… how about we combine it and give one speech together? We’ll make it funny, with anecdotes of their childhood. Dad’s giving her away at the wedding, but we can sort of give her away a second time. Joke about how we’re finally giving Hayden our blessing. She’ll expect us to do something like that, you know.”