It’s been over a year of working from home, of ordering samples and creating website layouts and running the numbers, and now it’s here. “Thank you,” I say.
Maybe she hears my sincerity, or maybe it’s just the kind of person she is, but she puts her hand on mine. “Anytime. We’re family now, you know, Aunt.”
I laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”
“You’ll have to. God, I’ll be called Mom soon.” Skye shakes her head in wonder at the thought. “I’m still in disbelief.”
“And you’ll be a great one.” I glance over my shoulder, grateful for my brother’s prolonged absence. “Where’s Dad-to-be today?”
“He’s trying out our new tennis court with Nick,” she says.
He’s here? My muscles lock in place at the notion. So somewhere in their massive garden, Nick is sweating and swatting tennis balls and still avoiding me.
The words slip out before I can stop them. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”
Skye’s eyes flare with interest. “Has something happened between you two?”
“No,” I lie. “It’s just… you know we don’t get along. And working together has already stretched all the patience I have.”
There’s a furrow between Skye’s eyebrows. “Well, something seemed off with him. You’ve known him longer, but… don’t you think a proper relationship would be good for him?”
I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I settle for a dark chuckle. “I’m sure it would be, were he interested in having one.”
“You think he’s not?”
“Skye, he’s not been in one for as long as I’ve known him,” I say honestly. “I think he likes his solitude.”
After the confrontation we’d had just a few days ago—in a study down the hall, no less—I didn’t doubt that at all. Keeping people at arm’s length is probably his method of living, as ingrained in him as the need to breathe.
“Well, no man was made to live alone,” Skye says decisively, rising from the floor. “Do you want a cup of tea? We can look at paint samples and I can pick your brain.”
Glad she’s dropped the Nick conversation, I give her a beaming smile. “As a nursery expert, I’m at your service.”
Skye rolls her eyes at me but leads the way back down to the kitchen. I lean against the giant island and watch her prepare two cups. Despite myself, I keep glancing at the back door. My earlier peace and calm is shattered.
He’s here somewhere.
She hands me a cup. “Thank you,” I murmur, using the spoon to stir.
“So, these are the ones I’m thinking about…” She pulls out a binder of colors and we study them for a long while, our heads bent together.
We’re startled by the back door opening, my brother and Nick falling in through it like they’re eighteen rather than thirty. Nick doesn’t keep Cole at an arm’s-lengths distance, I note bitterly.
And then he sees me.
Nick straightens immediately. The sweat on his brow glistens, the material of the flimsy workout T-shirt clinging to his broad chest.
Cole sees us too, but he smiles. “Here to raid our fridge, Lairy?”
The old nickname does nothing for my already flushed cheeks. I roll my eyes at him. “That was you, years ago. My own is quite well-stocked, thank you very much.”
“We’ve been looking at designs for the nursery,” Skye says. “How was the new tennis court?”
“Excellent,” Cole says. “So excellent, in fact, that I won.”
Nick’s upper lip lifts. “You had the home turf advantage. I won’t go so easy next time.”
I turn my eyes away from him. If I look too long, I’ll remember, and if I remember, I’ll drown in the memory.
Skye grabs her cup of tea and the binder with colors. “Come on, let me show you the paint swatches Blair and I decided on. The nursery is on the way to the shower anyway.”
My brother pauses only for a second to nod at Nick. “The guest bath is yours.”
Nick inclines his head. “Thanks.”
And then Cole and Skye are gone, despite the fact that we hadn’t decided on any paint swatches at all.
Sly dog, I think, wondering how much Skye suspects. How much she’s guessed and pieced together. Her comment about Nick needing a relationship…
Nick runs a hand through his hair. For all his power and skill when he’s in a suit, or the way he commands attention at a party, he’s just a man now. One who’s sweaty and flushed and alone here with me.
I take a step closer. “Avoiding me, are you?”
“Not at all.”
“Really? Not being at your own office