Page 92 of The Love Losers

“Would you like to come inside and warm up?” I ask.

“No, no.” He adjusts his collar. “I’m here to keep you good folks safe.”

I give him a couple of hundreds from my wallet on top of whatever my mother’s paying him, park our car, and then the three of us head indoors.

When the door closes behind us, leaving us in the dark foyer, lined with hideous wallpaper. I study my sister. “It’ll take a lot of work.”

“Good. I need something to occupy my time.”

“Did you lose your job?”

“Yes,” she says, slinging her purse over the banister for the stairway and pulling out a flask that’s got to be half empty given the way they’ve both been acting.

“What’d you do?” our mother asks. She sounds more curious than disapproving.

“I didn’tdoanything,” Emma snaps. “My client seduced my boss.”

“What does that have to do with you?” I ask.

My mother studies Emma. A few seconds later, she pushes her lips out, her brow lowering. “Oh Emma, I thought you knew better.”

It takes a second for my exhausted brain to make any sense of the silent communication going on between them, but then it clicks. “You were sleeping with him?”

I try to remember if I’ve ever met Emma’s boss, but if I have, it was so long ago the impression didn’t stick.

“I’m very tired,” Emma says with a sigh. “Forget getting wasted and planning Nina’s untimely demise—”

“We’re not killing her,” I put in.

“Nina’s fall from questionable grace,” she self-corrects. “I’m going to bed. I’ll unpack my car tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I agree, because she does look tired, and sickly, as if she’s been hanging on by a thread for a long time and feels it fraying. I know a thing or two about that. “Should we expectyou to sneak down here at four-thirty in the morning to look for Santa Claus?”

She gives me a sad smile and takes a swig from her flask. “We’re not kids anymore, Anthony. It’s time for us to put away childish things.”

Except she’s wrong, and if I’m a good big brother, I’ll find a way to prove it to her.

My mother and I watch as Emma makes her way up the stairs, and then she touches my shoulder. “I expect you’ll still have a nightcap with me, my boy?”

I nod and trail her into the drawing room, where I follow my unspoken orders and pour us both a drink. My mother sits on her favorite settee again and peers into the cold, dark fireplace.

I lift my eyebrows. “Want me to barbecue Santa for you?”

“By all means,” she says, glancing out the window. The snow is coming down more thickly now, so I start a fire behind the grate. It’s nice to have something to focus on. I like feeling that I’m doing some good for someone. But now that I’m on stronger pain medication and my hand is bandaged, it’s hard not to think about Rosie. What’s she doing tonight? Has she told her family about what happened?

If so, they’ve probably warned her to stay away from me.

The smart thing to do would be for us to stay away from each other. To give up. But she makes me want to be Rule Breaker, a man who takes risks without regret.

Glancing at my mother, I say, “I’m feeling pretty messed up right now.”

She sighs. “You’re probably not supposed to drink on the pain medication they gave you.”

I lift the glass to my lips. “Probably not, but that’s not why.”

Studying me, she says, “You’re not going to marry anyone else, are you?”

“No,” I agree. “It’s her, or it’s no one. And I won’t do it if it’s a big risk for her or her family. That’s something I need to figure out first.”

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