He clenched his jaw and stacked another empty rack on the others. “I thought being in love would mellow you out.”
Whoa. I stared at him, fork in midair. “How do you know I’m in love?”
I hadn’t told anyone. Not even Natalie. I was waiting for the right moment.
To be honest, it’d hit me at a weird moment—after she’d opened up about the nature of her engagement to her best friend. I’d felt mildly threatened by a dead guy, so when the relief had struck me at discovering he hadn’t been her true love or anything, I’d cursed my chauvinism and realized I was so fucking screwed that it could only be love. Not only did I wanna be her present and future, I was evidently a big enough of a dick not to want any shoes from the past to fill.
Darius looked at me dryly. “If anybody else stopped shaving, stopped putting shit in their hair, pulled on flannel shirts, and ate their body weight in pie—crumble—I woulda assumeddivorce or grief. With you, it’s clearly the opposite. Natalie removed the stick from your ass.”
Kinda impossible to stay pissy with him now. I laughed instead, because he was spot-on.
I’d put on a couple of pounds too.
No fucks given.
I’d never been happier.
My brother’s expression changed, and it was like he was seeing an alien eating perfect crumble.
“Yeah, see, a couple of months ago, that comment would’ve pissed you off.”
Probably. But here we were. That woman had changed everything for me.
“You haven’t asked how I know about you two,” he noted next.
Oh, I could guess. “Natalie had coffee with Chloe the other day. Chloe presumably told Gray or Ma, who told you.”
Darius’s face had “not too shabby” written across it. “She actually told Elise, who already knew somehow, who called me.”
Close enough. The family grapevine worked faster than an Amazon delivery.
“All bullshit aside, I’m happy for you, Ethan. I’ve missed my little brother.”
I smiled around a mouthful of crumble.
He pointed to the dish. “Can I have some now?”
“Do I look like I’m done?”
His scowl came right back. “I’ll fucking remember this next time Gray makes his cinnamon roll bites.”
That was fine with me. Crumble was my exception, and it wasn’t just any crumble. It couldn’t be too sweet. I needed the taste of the butter in the mix and a pinch of salt to go with the filling. The rum helped too. Fucking incredible.
Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Elise and Avery announced on social that they were expecting again. My brothers and I were quick to meet up in our group chat to place bets that they’d have another girl, with Ryan and Lias positive this one would be a boy. Darius and I were on the same side, ’cause no fucking way. They had two girls already—a third was on her way. Avery would be surrounded.
“That’s amazing.” Nat beamed, grabbing her purse off the kitchen island. “I’ll head down to Cedar Point and get them a gift.”
I furrowed my brow. “Won’t there be a baby shower for that?” We’d just gotten home, dammit. I wanted to make dinner and have her as my dessert on the couch.
“That’s obviously when I design something silvery and unique for the mother and child,” she replied, as if that was a common thing. “If you come with me, we could go to that salad bar afterward.”
That wasn’t as appealing as it once had been. She was spoiling me with Southern cooking and chicken that wasn’t overcooked. Maybe I’d discovered my chicken was too dry in comparison to hers.
“It’s been a long day.” I threw that out there. “We bought those steaks…”
She shouldered her purse and came over to me, snaking her arms around my middle. “They have steak salads, honey.”
I narrowed my eyes. That wasn’t the same. I wanted her smashed broccoli and roasted baby potatoes.
