Brothers of Paradise Series

It tugs at my lips, the memory of old arguments, of jokes, of times when my heart would speed up when he walked by me in the high school hallway. How I’d sleep over at Lily’s and see him in only a pair of boxers and sleep-mussed hair.

But then I remember who I am and where I am and what really matters, and the old flame dies as quickly as it had ignited.

“Well, have a good evening,” I say. “See you around?”

“Yeah. Drive safe.”

I leave him and the yacht club behind, cycling down familiar streets. They turn from seaside to curbside quickly, with large trees flanking the streets like quiet sentinels, watching over this suburban paradise. There are barely any cars on the roads. The season is too early for the parade of vacationers to arrive.

I stop outside my mother’s house. It’s nestled in between two larger ones, like the runt of the litter, and is the only one on the street that isn’t white or gray. Her house is bright blue with white shutters. Macrame wind catchers hang from the porch, their sea shells in constant, audible motion. Beside it is Emma’s pink bike that had once been mine.

“Mom?” I call. “Emma?”

The door is unlocked. It sends a shiver of fear up my spine. “Emma!”

Mom’s voice reaches me. “Backyard!”

They’re sitting on the grass, with a bucket in between them. Blowing soap bubbles.

A knot inside me relaxes at the sight. Emma is in her favorite purple dress, with grass stains on her knobby knees and a concentrated look on her face. Mom has her hair up in a bun. Her arms are streaked with dry clay from an earlier session with the pottery wheel.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

A group of bubbles fly past me and one explodes, fragile and thin, right by my ear.

“Mommy!” Emma says. She shines up in a grin and rushes to dip her utensil again. “Look! We’re blowing bubbles.”

“I can see that, honey. Having fun?”

She doesn’t answer me, face concentrated again. My mother gets to her feet and shakes out her left knee. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey. Did everything go okay today?”

“It went splendidly. We started with some sculpting and Emma made a snowman. A very inspired choice for the season. Oh, and we had pancakes for lunch.” She takes a deep breath. “I’d forgotten how much effort it takes to watch a small child.”

I feel a pinch of guilt. It’s for more than I can list. For being away from my mom for so many years… and now for being back so suddenly, forcing both her and Emma into a situation they might not be ready for.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She gives me a warm smile. “I’m just happy you’re home. Both of you.”

And cue even more guilt.

“How was your first day?” she asks.

I watch as my daughter blows more bubbles. Her brows are knitted together in concentration. Too hard an exhale and they break. Too soft and they won’t form. “It was good,” I say. “Waitressing is pretty similar everywhere.”

And then, before I can stop myself, I add the rest.

“Parker Marchand is the new owner.”

“Oh, that’s right. He bought the place pretty recently, I think,” Mom says. “I remember hearing about the renovations. It seemed like they went on forever.”

“You knew he owned it?”

“Yes. Oh, sorry sweetheart, should I have told you? You’re friends with his cousin, aren’t you?”

Bless my mother’s heart, but she’s always lived with her head halfway in the clouds.

“His sister,” I say. “Lily has three older brothers. Parker, Rhys and Henry.”

“Oh, right, right.”

She must be the only one in this town who can’t keep track of the Marchands. The family is as well known as the yacht club itself. The famous builder and his beautiful wife, now stewards of the community.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” she says. “You’ll be working with friends.”

I look down at my daughter’s fine hair. She has my light brown color, and none of the dark curls her father has. Mine, I think. Mine through and through.

“For friends,” I correct quietly. “Not with friends.”

The distinction feels a gulf wide and just as important. Parker and I aren’t on the same level anymore. Nor am I and Lily. She has a husband, a family, a place here. A career she’s worked over a decade for-a career she always dreamed about.

I can’t imagine telling her about my last few years. I can’t imagine what she’ll think of me.

Emma blows a huge, complete bubble that floats gently up in the summer air. She grins up at me. “See?” she asks.

Determination squeezes hard inside my chest. Mine, I think again. And I’ll do anything now to get us back on our feet.

“I saw it,” I tell her. “Beautiful.”

PARKER

Jamie catapults across my sister’s living room as fast as his short legs allow him. “Watch!” he screams. “Waaaatch!”

Behind him, the blanket he’s tied around his neck flies out like a cape. He’s in his Spider-Man pajamas. I once tried to explain to the guy that Spider-Man doesn’t wear capes, but considering he’s still too young to watch all the movies, he’s allowed some artistic license.

“Did you see?” He’s panting, having stopped abruptly in front of the fireplace with inches to spare. “I was flying!”

“Yes, I did. Very impressive,” I say.

Jamie doesn’t wait for me to finish before he takes off again, this time climbing onto one of the couches. His face is determined as he bends his knees, facing the armchair I’m in.

“Catch me,” he says.

I have just enough time to get my arms up and stop him from careening headfirst into my chest. He laughs like a loon and wriggles like an eel, and as soon as I put him back down, he’s off again. The roses on his cheeks are bright red.

“Jesus,” I say to Hayden. “Is he always like this before bed?”

My sister’s husband rolls his eyes. “You know he’s not, but you’re here. He likes to perform when you’re around.”