“Design can be overdone.”
“It can,” I agreed. “But in this case, it’s not.”
Smith grumbled and groaned, but I could tell by the sag in his shoulders he knew I was right. Relief washed over me, and I straightened up, checking my watch and then clapping my hands together.
“Are you on your lunch?” I asked.
“I left early.”
My first instinct was to chastise him for letting his emotions own him so completely, but I was also relatively lost when it came to my emotions about Silas, so I probably would have done the same thing. Smith glanced at me nervously like he knew exactly where my mind had gone at his confession.
“Let’s get out of here then,” I said, standing up and gesturing for him to join me.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your whole day, Marsh.”
“A welcome distraction. Let me pack up and we can go.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To get lunch, as a start.” I walked around to the other sideof my desk, powering down my laptop and gathering up my things. “And then we’ll just see where the day takes us, alright?”
“When does Silas get home?”
“Silas doesn’t live with me,” I said. “But if he gets to my house, it’s whenever he wants.”
“He has a key?”
“Of course,” I said. “But he still lives with Lincoln.”
Smith stood, fidgeting with the knot on his tie. “Why?”
I swallowed back any argument I would have had about why Silas chose to keep his apartment instead of moving in with me because just like I didn’t want to answer Stanley’s questions about Silas, I wasn’t keen to answer Smith’s either.
“Because he wants to.”
My brother followed me out of my office, close on my heels and flicking off lights as we went.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
I pressed the button for the elevator, half expecting another one of my brothers to be there when it opened. It was blessedly empty, and Smith and I stepped inside and turned our backs to the wall.
“A little bit,” I admitted, glancing at his reflection.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile, and I exhaled a shaky laugh. “It’s his choice though,” I said. “Just like it’s your choice if you want to walk away from restoration.”
“I don’t,” he said.
“I know.”
The doors slid open on the ground floor, and we stepped out together.
“Did you drive?” I asked.
“I walked.”
“Of course you did.” I jerked my head toward the parking garage entrance, and Smith again followed after me.
