seats, hoping Chloe would sit near me. I glance across the table where Chloe’s sister, Sara, sits with Adrian and their baby, Henry. I make a funny face at Henry when he notices me, widening my eyes and sticking my tongue out. He stares unblinking back, his eyes wide as saucers, before he gets distracted by Adrian passing him over to Sara. Chloe wouldn’t miss Christmas dinner, would she?
Christmas is a big deal in my family. It’s the only time everyone gets off work and can be together for a good time. Though I see plenty of my five brothers at work since we co-own Byrne Construction (my uncle’s company before he retired) and the new company we formed under it, Rourke Management, for real estate development. My job is to scout out new properties ripe for development in Brooklyn. So far, I landed us a closed elementary school that we converted successfully to commercial office space, and our current project, an old marine rope factory by the waterfront that we’re converting to lofts for design and artist tenants. I’m always on the lookout for the next project. I’ve got my eye on some low-level warehouses by the waterfront for possible residential space.
“Did Santa bring you everything you dreamed of?” my younger brother, Garrett, asks, interrupting my thoughts. We call him Beast on account of his overly muscled body. The dude lifts weights way beyond what’s necessary. His barbells take up half his bedroom in our apartment. What’s he going for? Hulk status?
I lean close, keeping my voice low. “Ya know, I think he might’ve. I caught up with the pretty redhead from the ball earlier.” Not that I’m going to do anything about it.
He snorts. “Any woman can be fiery. Redhead, blonde, brunette.” I always say I like redheads because they’re more fiery. Though, I have to admit, Chloe seems more thoughtful than fiery.
I shrug one shoulder. “What can I say? I have a type.”
“I love ’em all.” He grins, his blue-green eyes twinkling with amusement. He’s the only one of us who inherited my dad’s blue-green eyes, which match the color of the sea here. Supposedly, it’s the sign of the true leader of Villroy. Not that the youngest son of the formerly exiled family would ever be king. I think Garrett would be, let’s see…twelfth in line for the throne. After King Gabriel, there’s my cousins—four princes and two princesses—then there’s our family with five brothers ahead of Garrett. Or, wait, maybe King Gabriel’s little girl fits in there somewhere too. Garrett could be thirteenth in line. Lucky thirteen.
I chuckle. “Love ’em all, sow your wild oats. That sounds about right for twenty-four.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I just haven’t met the One yet, ya know? She’s out there somewhere.”
I stifle a laugh. Underneath his tough-looking exterior, he’s such a softie. The One. Like there’s only one woman out there for you. Total BS. He should enjoy this time in his life when women close to his age aren’t looking for long-term commitment so much. The women I’ve been meeting, closer to my age (twenty-six), it’s definitely on their minds. Okay, there’s a very specific reason for my new caution—Mallory. A couple of months back—after just three weeks of hooking up on Saturday nights—she says, “Where’s this going, Bren? I deserve to know.” I shouldn’t have spent the night. That gave her the wrong idea. I’d told her up front I wasn’t looking for serious. The worst part is, she cried when I ended it. Like bawled. And then she threw a pointy stiletto at my head. I ducked just in time. Not gonna lie, I felt like absolute shit about it. I don’t want any woman crying over me. Which is why I’m being more careful now.
Don’t get me wrong. Commitment is great for some guys. Like my older brothers—Dylan, married with a baby on the way in a couple of weeks; Sean, getting married soon on Valentine’s Day (I know, barf); Jack’s wedding is in June; and Connor just recently got engaged, no wedding date yet. Not to mention my parents.
I glance over as my dad clinks his champagne glass against my mom’s. They smile, gazing into each other’s eyes. He gave up everything to marry her, a commoner from Brooklyn, New York. It was hard on him, being exiled from his kingdom with nothing. No allowance, not even a small cushion to get him started. All so he could be with “the best woman