Page 52 of All Too Well
“Did I?”
I nod. “Yup. Glad I could correct the error of your ways.”
“Yes, you’re a saint that way.”
“Glad you think so,” I say with a grin.
Lachlan laughs under his breath. “It was a high point.”
His confession stuns me. Lachlan has never been one to toss compliments out for no reason.
“So you’re saying I’m a delight?” I ask, knowing I’ll get a smart-ass comment back, because he’s Lachlan.
“You’re something.”
I smile and lean in, brushing my shoulder against him. “I knew it. I’m the sunshine of your life.”
“I’d say that title belongs to Rose.”
“Fine. I’ll accept losing it to her.”
“You never had it to begin with,” he says, nudging me.
I sit up, feeling rather affronted by that. “Then who did?”
“Caspian,” he says deadpan.
I laugh because, of all the things my brother is, the sunshine of someone’s life is definitely not it. He’s more like the dark cloud that keeps dumping buckets of rain on your head and keeps moving where you go to ensure you look dumb.
“I can’t wait to tell him you said that,” I joke.
“Do it and you’re dead.”
I raise my hands. “I’ll let you keep this secret.”
Lachlan places the tray of cookies in front of us, and we both grab one. It’s like being kids again, and I wish, so much, that I knew what to say. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. How I would go back in time and change everything if it meant I could have him and Rose back in my life.
Yet a part of me doesn’t think I would actually do that. To take it all back would change the trajectory of my life, and we wouldn’t be sitting here now.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, causing me to jump a little.
“Nothing. I was just ... drifting.”
He grabs another cookie. “So why couldn’t you sleep?”
That’s a loaded question. “Just a lot on my mind. I need to write, and I’ve been struggling with the right angle for the story.”
“Maybe you should write about something else then.”
I laugh once. “You’d like that.”
“I would.”
I shift to face him, crossing my legs in front of me. “Why?”
“Why what?”
I swear he does this just to piss me off. “Why would you rather I not write about this?”
