My eyes moved around the space, stopping on a picture collage in a colorful frame. I stepped closer to get a better look.
“I’m making hot toddies,” she said, pulling ingredients from various cabinets. “Perfect for a cold night like this.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what a hot toddy was, but I wasn’t about to admit that to someone who probably considered them a basic life skill. I knew Kathy often made them for my father. And it involved liquor. That was enough for me.
I studied the pictures. I recognized Emmy and Brom pretty quickly. The pictures looked like they spanned from childhood until maybe a few years ago. Sylvie looked happy in every single one. She was clearly a happy person. Like “real” happy. Lots of people could fake it, but genuine happiness was much harder to achieve.
I moved on to another collage. It was filled with pictures of the family through the years. Pictures of them with various treesat the farm and at the lodge. Her parents were much younger in several of the photos. And even though I guessed Sylvie was probably only six or seven in one photo, there was no missing that smile.
“Your hair color is natural,” I mused aloud.
She laughed. “Yep. It gets a little darker in the winter, but in the summer, all that red comes out to greet the sun.”
I sat down on the couch, taking in the massive window that overlooked the lodge and the sprawling lot of Christmas trees beyond. It was a tiny apartment but she had one hell of a view. It was hard not to compare her life to mine.
My penthouse had one hell of a view as well, but I was looking at millions of lights from the millions of people I supposed I called neighbors. Her view was a few hundred twinkling lights and a hell of a lot of trees.
My penthouse was probably ten times the size of her place. There were rooms in my penthouse that I hadn’t been inside in months. Guest rooms. Back in our heydays, my brothers were always crashing at my place and me at theirs. Then a bunch of them went off and got married. Now, those rooms sat empty.
But when I looked around her tiny living room, I saw life. A life well-lived with good people surrounding her. The photos were evidence of plenty of hands-on experiences. No, there weren’t pictures of her on a yacht or the Swiss Alps, but she was plenty happy right here. I had the yacht pics. The Alps. Bali.
And I don’t think I looked even half as happy as she does in her pictures.
“Here you go,” she said.
She handed me a steaming mug that smelled like whiskey and spices and everything warm about winter. I knew this was a moment I’d remember for the rest of my life.
“Thank you. What is it exactly?”
She grinned. “Special recipe that’s been passed down through generations.”
I took a sip and slowly nodded. “Good.”
The drink was perfect, smooth and warming, with just enough alcohol to take the edge off the cold but not enough to cloud my thinking. The flavor was good as well, even if it was a cheaper whiskey than what I was used to.
But it wasn’t really about the drink. It was about sitting here with Sylvie, watching her face as she looked out at her family’s property. She grabbed a little remote, and suddenly pretty lights around her window lit up.
“I love the advancements in lights,” she said with a giggle. “But I think it might make me just a little lazy.”
“You’re allowed.”
I wasn’t going to tell her I had an app on my phone that controlled everything in my penthouse from lights, to heat, to running the damn dishwasher.
Looking at her like this—relaxed, beautiful, completely in her element—made something inside me burn so brightly it almost fucking hurt.
“Can I ask about your brother?” she asked softly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”
“Well, I can tell you my side, but the rest is his story.”
Sylvie nodded. “I get it.”
I took a deep breath and stared down at my mug, watching the steam rise from the amber liquid. How did I even begin to explain Hudson’s journey without making it sound like some kind of sob story?
“Growing up, Hudson was always the most…intenseof all of us. Whatever he did, he did it all the way. If he was into baseball, he’d practice until his hands bled. If he was studying, he’d pull three all-nighters in a row.”
Sylvie tucked her legs under her on the couch, giving me her full attention in that way she had that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.
“That sounds like it could be a good thing,” she said quietly.
