Page 15 of The Inevitable Us

Their daughter, Mallory, handles all of the day-to-day operations at the café, so it’s not likely Uncle Carson knows about Rory’s antics unless Mallory’s told him. Just in case, I send a text message to my brother to give him a heads up.

Mom and Dad entertain Aunt Brynn and Uncle Carson in the basement, where Dad has a pool table and old arcade games while I cook, giving me the run of the kitchen without others underfoot.

Mom has started the pot roast, but I have the side dishes to prepare. Plus, I always add extra rosemary and kosher salt to the roast. It tastes better that way.

Rory walks into the house from the garage just as I put the root vegetables into the oven. I give him a sideways glance. “You didn’t answer my text. You’re going to be busted if Mallory told Uncle Carson.”

He waves me off as he heads down to the basement man cave where my parents are still hanging out with their guests. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Crud.

Rory doesn’t spare me a glance when he runs back up the stairs a few short minutes later. He just slinks into his room and slams the door behind him. Dad follows behind and heads to Rory’s room.

I’m not able to make out much of the conversation, but it sounds as if Rory has either been fired, quit, or some combination of the two. Dad yells a threat about Rory “getting his butt in gear” before storming back down the hall and walking back to his guests.

Rory stays in his room, blaring Matthew Barlowe’s greatest hits—an obvious fuck you to Dad, who has often been toe to toe with Matthew professionally. It’s always awkward since Matthew is Josie’s biological father. When Dad comes from the basement to eat with our guests, he stalks down the hallway and comes back with Rory’s Bluetooth speaker, finally silencing the too-loud music.

Rory doesn’t join us, and the five of us eat an awkward meal at the large kitchen table. Has Uncle Carson come over just to talk to my dad about Rory? I eat quickly, putting my plate in the sink. Since I did the cooking, someone else can wash up.

After Brynn and Carson leave, Dad knocks softly on my bedroom door. He throws my car keys at me from the doorway to where I lay on the bed. “Your brother isn’t working at Serendipity anymore. Guess it’s a good thing your car came back from the shop today.”

I grin back at him, holding the keys in my hands, fingering the metal rose keychain that holds my keys. “Got it, Dad.” Sweet, sweet freedom.

Leavingforworkatthe café the next day, I look up to see Sawyer walking along the fence line as if inspecting something. He’s dangerously close to finding the panels Nate cut years ago to slip out unnoticed, hidden behind a bush.

He looks in my direction, hearing my shoes on the gravel as I walk towards the car, and his eyes quickly flicker away from me. Pain engulfs me as the man I have known my entire life avoids eye contact or even the most basic of greetings.

Cranking the car and swallowing down the hurt, I drive past him without either of us acknowledging the other. Stepping on the accelerator, I glance back into the rearview mirror to see Sawyer glaring at me as I speed down the driveway, the tires throwing gravel as I drive too fast.

I park in the back of the restaurant in the otherwise vacant lot. Unlocking the door to Serendipity, I flick on the lights, reactivating the security system for the front of the café and locking the door again, quickly getting to work. I no longer have my twin for company when I open up, not to mention we’re now short-staffed without Rory. I’ll have to prepare all the food today without any help.

I feel the tears well up, feeling abandoned and alone. I look up at the globe-style security camera, the light blinking down at me. I can’t even cry in private. While I had once loved the cameras, today I chop the romaine for salads glaring at the camera, feeling its intrusion, my lack of privacy, for the first time.

Narrowing my eyes at the all-seeing mechanical interloper, I grab the small screwdriver we keep in the kitchen to tighten the screws on wiggly chairs and a meat mallet. Jumping onto the stainless steel workspace underneath the camera, I open the protective globe. It isn’t an easy task, but after a lifetime of watching Dad’s bodyguards do the same, I’m able to open it quickly without the special key normally required.

Once the inner camera is exposed, I give the camera lens a self-satisfied grin, a one-finger salute, and go to work. Cutting the cords is easy, but with the meat mallet, it takes a little longer to completely break the camera lens. When I hear the tinkling of the bells on the door and Mallory disengaging the security system in the front of the café, I jump off the work surface in one leap, my destruction finished. Ooops.

Thekitchendoorsswingopen, hitting the wall behind them, and the sound of dress shoes on the vinyl flooring makes me turn. Sawyer is stalking towards me, carrying a box with the camera system’s logo on it. Looks like I’m only getting an hour’s peace from my interloper.

He’s brought one of the female guards—Therese. She’s in her fifties with hair shorter than Sawyer’s and a stocky build.

Looking up at the demolished camera with an annoyed look on her face, Therese says, “Think we should tell the boss man?”

Sawyer sucks his teeth, his hands on his hips as he looks up at my handiwork. He clears his throat. “No need. The overnight cleaning crew probably did it accidentally.”

Therese shoots Sawyer a dubious look as he digs into a toolbox and, pulling out the tools, goes to work.

Once the camera is installed, Sawyer looks down at Therese from the ladder. “Why don’t you head back to the house? Boss man has to leave for the gym, and he’ll need to bring Creekman with him.”

My dad always takes someone with him wherever he goes, but another guard must always be at the house. Staff is scheduled around Dad’s plans for the day. I’m not sure how they keep up with the logistics, but they always have the correct number of people when they’re needed there.

As she leaves, I throw a panini and wedge potatoes into a bag.

Feeling a sudden ping of guilt that I made additional work for her, I prepare her favorite lunch as an apology she doesn’t know she deserves. “I thought you’d want lunch since you spent the morning here fixing the camera.”

Therese peeks into the bag and grins at me. “Ham and cheese?”

I return her smile, throwing the dish towel I’ve been using to wipe the counters over my shoulder. “With my homemade wedge fries. Trevor has an order in for your Italian cream soda when you’re ready for it.”

She walks over to the swing doors with her food after a quick goodbye, taking the trash from the newly installed camera with her.

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