Lane reached over and took my hand. “You doing okay?” he asked, his jaw only slightly more relaxed as he touched me, seeming to get himself in check.
“Uh-huh. Thanks for doing this for me.”
He nodded and brought my hand up to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss on the inside of my wrist.
“Seriously,” I said as I squeezed his fingers. “I know you didn’t want to. It means a lot to me.”
He took his eyes from the road for a second to meet my eyes. “Well, you’re right. I don’t feel like sharing you any more than I have to, so we’re going to meet Jake at a coffee shop by his new gym location. He owns a fitness club, by the way, and he’s interviewing some marketing girl there. And then we’re hightailing it back to my place.”
This time he gave me a genuine smile. His unruly hair fell over his eyes, begging me to brush it back, which I did. Then I dropped my hand to his shoulder, stroking the muscles there, unable to resist running my palm lower over his firm chest, looking so broad and delicious in his cashmere sweater. The whole look was doing something for me, and it quickly took my mind off the word “gym.” The last time I’d been in a gym hadn’t ended well for me, and I tried not to think about it.
“Okay, sounds like a plan,” I said, still distracted.
Bridges and tall elm trees whizzed by as I lost myself in memories. Childhood reminiscences of growing up in Carnegie—a nearby tiny hole-in-the-wall town full of factories—came flooding back, as well as recollections from my college days in the big city.
We pulled into a parking lot in a suburb south of Pittsburgh, a wealthy one close to where I grew up. The residents all used to bring their cars to my dad for repair.
My dad.I hadn’t thought about him until this moment. I felt a little twinge of guilt at what an afterthought he’d become to me, but for close to two decades, that was what I was to him. I should have called him to let him know what happened to me. Or made a plan to see him now that I was so close.
Next time.
“Will Brooks be okay in the car?” Lane asked as we got out. “With the windows down?”
“Sure. Let me give him a chance to pee first, though,” I said while opening the back hatch and letting Brooks out.
“You have to leash him here,” Lane reminded me.
After glancing around at the perfectly manicured streetscape with expensive cars and bistros lining both sides of the sidewalk, I nodded and grabbed the red leather leash from the back of the car.
I walked slowly down the block, taking in my surroundings as my dog stretched his legs and sniffed at everything in sight. This neighborhood was different from what I was used to, neither the country quiet like where I lived now, nor the sheer madness of South Beach where Lane resided. It was a place where people laid down roots, where they built lives and families. It occurred to me that in a way, both Lane and I had set ourselves up in places that weren’t really conducive to family life.
Lane waited for me by the car, a small smile on his face as Brooks and I made our way back to him. After Brooks was settled in the backseat again, Lane handed me my keys and then took my hand. “Ready?”
I shoved my keys in my pocket and said cheerfully, “Yep!”
As we left the parking lot and turned onto the sidewalk, he frowned. “I just want to warn you,” he said in a tight voice, “my brother can be a bit wild. He and I haven’t always seen eye to eye because of it.” He glanced away as he added, “That’s why I don’t mention him much.”
After absorbing Lane’s words for a moment, I said carefully, “Well, he did come to see me as soon as you called, so he can’t be that bad.”
“He owed me a favor. Actually, he owes me a lifetime of them.”
We walked the other direction toward a small coffee shop. It was both quaint and upscale, its facade framed in mahogany, and the smell of fresh roasted beans wafted all the way outside.
As we entered the store, small brass bells chimed above the door. “What about your folks?” I asked. “Do they live here?”
“They’re not around anymore.” Lane waved to his brother, who was seated facing us in the back, finishing his interview.
I mentally scolded myself for only asking about their parents. A girl who knew more about families would know to ask. And by Lane’s response, I could tell there was more to their family’s story than what he was telling me.
And I was distracted by why he never mentioned it when he said, “Let’s set our stuff down and then I’ll grab us some drinks, okay?”
“Sure.”
As we headed toward Jake’s table, my thoughts were still consumed with Lane’s parents. Were they blue collar or business people? Loving and doting or emotionally distant? I wanted to know all about them, curious about what I missed growing up and what he must have had.
Then everything started to spin for the second time in two days.
Jake stood to say hello and I opened my mouth to thank him for meeting with us, but I froze in place, adjusting to the sight of the twins next to each other. They were so alike and so opposite, a mass of contractions, that it took my breath away. Lane and his calm personality and wild hair, and Jake the opposite, his hair short and neat, but his personality chaotic. At least, according to Lane.
