Page 103 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

“Now we’re going to frost.”

Right after she says that, Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” begins. Savannah screams. As she dances around us, pretending to punch us, Denver’s eyes meet mine. There’s an apology there. I nod in acceptance and take a seat at the breakfast bar.

“You created a monster,” he says, his gaze zeroing in on Savannah.

I don’t say anything because I’m loving how comfortable she looks right now.

“Where did you get this anyway?” She falls into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I’m happy to see that she’s growing more comfortable with showing me affection in front of her brother.

If I’m honest with them, I might put a screeching halt to this fun night, but then again, both of them might appreciate the truth. “Your parents. Austin shoved a crate at me with a bunch of your dad’s music after… I found this in there, and I bought a tape player to play it.”

Denver sits on a breakfast stool. “This was Dad’s?”

“I think it was your mom’s actually.”

Savannah goes limp in my arms, then she straightens, stands, and frosts the cake.

“Why do you think that?” Denver asks, but my eyes are on Savannah. She’s checked out of the conversation now. “I’m Free” by Kenny Loggins comes on, and Denver’s foot taps. “This is from that Footloose movie, right?”

I want to agree, but Denver’s gaze is on Savannah and her gaze is on the spatula moving the frosting around the cake.

“Remember your mom and her eighties movies? That red-haired actress was in almost all of them.”

“Molly Ringwald,” Savannah says.

“Yeah.” Denver’s voice softens.

Yep, I killed their good time.

“Want to watch one?” I ask.

Savannah finishes frosting the cake, and yeah, she might need a little more practice with this cake decorating thing. She dumps the bowl and spatula in the sink. “I have to do the dishes.”

Denver swipes his finger through the frosting and licks it off his finger. “It might look like shit, but it tastes grrrreat.” He does the whole Tony the Tiger from Frosted Flakes impression for the word great.

I laugh while Savannah keeps her back to me.

Silently, I ask Denver to give me a little time with her, and he nods.

“I gotta go take a piss,” he says and stands.

“Ugh, can’t you just say use the restroom?” Savannah snips.

Once Denver is gone, I run my hands around her middle and place my chin on her shoulder. She continues washing the dishes as though I’m not there.

“You know it’s okay to remember them,” I say.

“I remember them all day, every day.”

“You can smile at memories. Like I remember coming over during the Christmas break right before their accident and seeing you, Brooklyn, and your mom having an eighties movie marathon. You had all this food. Your hair was teased high and sprayed different colors, and you had on bright blue eye shadow and pink lipstick. Your mom bragged that you and Brooklyn were wearing her clothes from that era. Don’t you remember those times?”

She violently scrubs the cake pan. “They’re over now.”

I nod. “True, but you don’t have to pretend like they never happened. Come.” I lightly tug on her middle to pull her away from the sink. “We can do this later.”

“Then it will dry and it’s even harder to get clean.”

“I’ll do it. Come on. I worked all day and I want to eat your cake.”

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