Page 72 of The Retreat

“Baby Bird, this is amazing.” I put my hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. The shadows are deep and dramatic, creating an intense feeling of concentration and determination.

“It really is fantastic,” Owen adds. “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at the piece, then slides it back into the folder. “It’s my favorite one so far. I’m kind of scared I won’t ever top it.”

I wrap my arm around his shoulder in a side hug. “You’ll do great things, I have no doubt.”

“Part of the art program requirement is participating in an art show at the end of the year. I’m terrified.”

“That piece you just showed me was ready for the show. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to go check on dinner. Why don’t you join me, Owen?” Oliver says not so subtly.

Owen glances at me, and I nod for him to go with.

When we are alone, Isaac turns on me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Owen?”

“What’s there to say? We’re married and making it work. There’s no reason for us to be miserable.” I’m not sure how much to tell him since it doesn’t seem like Owen has said a word to Oliver.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re making it work. We’re friends, partners in crime with the sole purpose of annoying Oliver.” I pat his cheek and head back to where I’m sure Oliver is interrogating Owen. While I am all about sex positivity, I’m not about to out Owen. If he doesn’t want to tell Isaac and Oliver about what we’ve been doing, he doesn’t have to. He will tell Oliver when he’s ready.

“I can’t believe it took a formal invitation to get you to come over here,” Oliver says as we enter the room. “You lived here for years.”

I’m shocked. Instead of interrogating him about our relationship, he’s mad Owen hasn’t come home? Is Oliver really so blind to us?

“What can I say? I keep him busy,” I toss over my shoulder as I refill my glass. “When is dinner? I’m starving.”

“I thought you already ate?” Isaac questions.

“Kitten.” Oliver looks at the ceiling like he’s asking some higher power for strength. “He meant his first meal was cum. You know he says shit to get a rise from you.” Oliver rolls his eyes.

Owen ducks his head, picking at something on his pants.

“Oh.” Isaac’s face is flushed red again.

I love how Oliver doesn’t believe that I actually could score his brother. I laugh to myself, enjoying this more than I thought I would. I want to tell him, just to see his face, but I’d never do that to Owen who seems to wish he was anywhere but here.

“At least you’re here now,” Isaac says, trying to steer the conversation back to friendly ground.

“If not terribly underdressed.” Oliver presses his lips into a line.

“And you haven’t even come to see the new apartment since we got settled. So now who’s being rude?” I snap, figuring Owen won’t stand up for himself.

“It’s been polluted by you. Why would I want to be there?” Oliver’s gaze flicks over to me.

“Your brother sleeps next to me every night. Has he been polluted too?” I’m getting annoyed.

“He’s clearly been brainwashed or succumbed to a brain injury. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.” Oliver’s icy tone tells me I’m walking a fine line, but I don’t care.

“Maybe you need a new crop top.” I shrug and smile at the mental image. Oliver in a crop top would be hilarious. Hot but hilarious.

“I want one!” Isaac pipes up. “Do you design those or just find them somewhere?”

“On Baby Bird, I’ll design one for you.” My stomach grumbles loudly. “Seriously, I’m starving. Someone feed me.”

A text vibrates my phone.

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