Page 102 of My Brother's Best Friends

“Maybe a balloon ride with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries?” I suggest.

“She’s afraid of heights,” he says with a sigh. “Now I’m thinking about snorkeling. Callie and her family love the beach, so I thought I could take her out on a reef in Florida. Or maybe Mexico.”

“Always thinking big,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure whatever you choose, she’ll appreciate it. And don’t let perfection get in the way of true love. I’d hate to watch you keep waiting for the right time and letting life get ahead of you.”

“Good advice,” he replies.

The women return from the kitchen with a bottle and four glasses. Callie sets the glasses down on the coffee table and Janet hands the bottle to Bryan.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Janet asks, producing a corkscrew from behind her back.

Bryan turns the bottle over to read the label. “Wild Stallions,” he reads.

“We’re sampling small-batch labels,” I say. “I’m not foolish enough to think I can compete with major companies at this stage of the game. But if I get a sense of the competition from small wineries, then I’ll know if my product measures up.”

He nods. “Good idea.” He unwraps the foil from the top. He works the cork free with gusto, then pours for all four of us.

We toast to a future full of possibilities.

All I can do is hope there’s still time to fix this—to stitch the wound closed and maybe, just maybe, pick up where we left off. But will the Anderson brothers even want me back after the way I left them?

31

ALEX

“Get up,” I tell my brother, hoping that my authoritative tone will get him moving.

Kellan has been taking longer and longer to get out of bed in the morning. He used to be the early bird among us. The devil, they say, is in the details, and in our case, our demon has been settling in, all cozy and eager to pull us deeper under.

“No,” Kellan grumbles, pulling the pillow over his head.

“Come on, man,” I insist, yanking the pillow off his face and tossing it across the room.

“Why? There’s no rule that says I can’t sleep an extra half hour,” he mutters from under the pillow.

“This isn’t like you, Kel.”

“Do not go there. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“This is more than simple fatigue, Kel. Come on—we have a full day ahead. We need to keep moving.”

I’m met with silence.

“Fine.” I concede. Unless I physically drag him, he isn’t going anywhere. Watching him wallow hurts, but there’s nothing I can do. I leave the room and flick off the lights behind me.

I run into Oscar in the kitchen. He’s coping in his own way, which means hyperfocusing on every little detail.

“Did you know that our electricity bill went up from last month?” he asks, holding up his cell phone to prove his point.

I glance at the numbers on the screen but shrug. “And?”

“And?” Oscar fires back. “Just because we’re comfortable doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be mindful.”

“You can’t possibly be serious right now…” I stare at him, trying to decide if he’s joking.

“I’ll have to call them to get to the bottom of this. Unless you want to do it.”

“You’re serious about this? Fine. Knock yourself out,” I say, reaching for the orange juice.

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