have no brains or compassion.”
“When you put it that way.” I raise my glass. “I am pretty bad-ass, aren’t I?”
“Damn straight.”
We click glasses and down the whisky. I get up and go for more.
I half expect her to be gone when I return, or dancing with a guy who can’t get enough of her. But Abby’s there, watching the crowd bounce up and down to the music, her feet tapping to the beat.
A lady who likes to dance. I picture us in clubs, in the dark, dancing side by side, laughing, or holding each other close.
I push aside the thought. I’m lonely, I’m half drunk, she’s beautiful, and I have a connection to her, if an awkward one, from childhood. I remind myself we’re here to celebrate a wedding, and that’s it.
Abby smiles at me as I hand her the whisky, and my reasoning goes to hell. She’s lovely, she’s funny, and after tonight, it might be a long time before I see her again, if ever. You get swallowed into your routine, and you rarely leave your circle, even with the best intentions.
“Enough about me,” I say, sitting next to her. “What about you? How’s your life treating you?”
Abby takes the glass I hand her, our fingertips brushing. “Oh, you know. You get through it.”
“Let me be nosy now. What have you been up to in the last twenty years?”
Abby laughs, her eyes softening. “Pretty much same as you. High school, college. I moved to Chandler because my parents split up, which you probably know. Lived with my mom—we took care of each other. I always envied you with your big family.”
She sounds wistful. I’ve done my share of complaining about my interfering brothers, and have yelled more than once that I wished I were an only child, but I know I’m lucky. I have three best friends, and because they’re my brothers, if I tell them to get lost for a while, I’m reasonably sure they’ll be around when I’m not as crabby. Same in reverse when they’re sick of me.
“I can’t deny it’s been good,” I say.
Abby perks up, as though she can’t stay down long. “My mom and I were good together too—no huge dramas. She got married a few years ago to a guy who’s been around a long time. Jim. He’s always been like a dad to me.”
Abby appears happy about this, so I figure things turned out for the best.
“You and your brothers work in the same business?” she asks in admiration. “Calandra told me a little bit, but not much—when she talks about Ryan it’s how good-looking he is, and how sweet, and how well he skis, among other things …” She flushes, and I hold up my hands.
“I do not want to know those other things about my brother.”
“I didn’t want to know them either.” Abby’s shuddering with me. “I’m amazed you have a family business in this day and age.”
“It’s more common than you think,” I say. “We’re renovators, sort of. When you move into a house, even a new build, and it’s crap, we come in and replace the junk with decent stuff—appliances, windows, doors, cabinets, whatever. We also work with developers when they’re building in the first place, so the stuff inside the house is better quality.” I screw up my face. “And now I sound like our brochure. Please shut me up.” I drink my whisky in desperation.
“No, it’s cool. I work in a giant corporation on a massive campus—I’m lucky I can find my way to my cubicle. The small business sounds nice.”
“Lots of work, but we do it. Ryan’s the heir apparent.” I gesture with my glass to my brother who is holding his bride, a dazed look on his face. “He works closest with my dad and mom to keep us running. He’ll take over when they retire.” I have no envy about that—better him than me, is my thought. “Ryan is the best bro a bro can have. Ben’s our IT guy.” I point out Ben, two years younger than me. He’s been cornered by Dad’s aunt Mary, and is nodding politely at her—he’s nice like that. “A total geek, but what Ben can’t do with a computer program isn’t worth knowing. Austin is the screw-up.” Austin, the youngest, is dancing with a sleek young woman in a slinky gown—figures. “He’s a good salesman, though. Knows the business and can bring us clients like it’s nothing. Doesn’t break a sweat and is surprised