“In case you change your mind.”
Oliver tossed the toast back at him. “I’ll pass.”
“No need for a food fight. I was just making a point. Did Cooper encourage this kind of childish behaviour?” Seb laughed.
Oliver’s fork paused, halfway up to his mouth. The omelet tumbled back to his plate.
“Cooper?” Penny asked.
“Oliver’s ex-boyfriend,” Martin said with a shrug. “I don’t know much else.”
“He’s a spoiled asshole. That’s really everything there is to know. I have no idea what my distinguished big brother saw in him.”
“I’m right here.” Oliver glared at Seb with real annoyance now. Bringing Cooper into this was unnecessary, but Seb lived to push other people’s buttons.
“Come on.” Seb put his own fork down. “It’s been, what? Eight months?”
Nine months and twenty-seven days.
“Something like that.”
“I think it’s time to dish. You’ve been very tight-lipped about what happened. You live with a guy for ten years and then suddenly you quit everything. Your job. Your boyfriend. Your life. So shit must have gone down, and either you did the heart-breaking, in which case you finally smartened up and realized what I’ve known for a decade or more, or he left you, in which case you owe him nothing, and we deserve a good brunch-time story.”
The longer Seb spoke, the more all of Oliver’s internal organs felt like they were turning to lava. His stomach went acidic, and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. He didn’t want to talk about this, because Cooper already took up too much of Oliver’s mental energy, and he wasn’t even here, but of course Seb didn’t care about things like personal boundaries.
“When do your kids finish school for the year?” Martin asked Penny quietly.
“Not for another month,” Penny said. Oliver glanced at them. Their faces were sympathetic, and the longer Oliver’s silence stretched on, the more Seb’s mocking smirk turned to guilt, like he’d realized he was pushing too hard.
“You know.” Oliver glared at him. “You can be just as much of an asshole when you want to be.”
Seb wordlessly shoved a fork into his eggs, but he wouldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes.
The conversation moved on, with Martin and Penny doing their best to keep the topics neutral and nonconfrontational. Oliver replied when he was asked a direct question and didn’t look at his brother again.
They had always been like this, the two of them.
And now Oliver had made the stupid move of trying to build his social circle off his brother.
On his drive home, he sent a text to Nick.
I have a proposition for you.
6
Nick had been on edge since receiving Oliver’s text. Reading intention in a text was hard, but Oliver’s first message, and the ones that followed, were persistent in a way his emails setting up their first date hadn’t been. Oliver wanted to see Nick again, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Which was how Nick found himself pulling into the driveway at the address Oliver gave him. He took a few deep breaths as he sat in his car. Nick suggested meeting for a drink somewhere, but Oliver was insistent they meet at his house. Going to Oliver’s place felt so personal, but he’d promised he wasn’t planning anything weird.
Low-level anxiety rippled beneath Nick’s skin. He’d been edgy at work, though the nights were quiet, and short with Anya at home, though she hadn’t deserved it.
“What is wrong with you?” she’d finally asked that morning, but he shrugged her off and said he was tired. The words were an eerie echo of the many excuses he’d given when they’d still been married, and he hadn’t wanted to deal with whatever had her worried that day. The way her expression clouded over was familiar too, and it twisted his stomach.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell her about Oliver. Possibly because he didn’t want her to make a big deal out of something that still might be nothing. Possibly because he didn’t want her to worry Oliver would be a distraction from what was going on at home. He was committed, no matter what Oliver wanted.
The house looked new, although the beachfront neighborhood around it was not. Probably a flip. Nick walked to the front door and rang the bell, then nervously stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in his throat, picking up even faster at the sound of footsteps approaching from inside.
Then the door opened, and Nick’s nerves and agitation condensed into a tight ball in his gut, weighing him to the spot where he stood. In the late day sun, Oliver’s face was devastating. His eyes were dark blue and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His hair was down, coming to below his chin.
