Keats reaches across the table to touch the top of my hand. “Because I also know that your loss is now turning into turmoil because of that simple fact. You think you’re not following the rule book. Too soon, wrong person, not honorable, and all that other shit that gets put in our heads.”
My throat tightens by his views because they are spot on. “It’s only been a few months and…”
He pats my hand before he returns to sitting up straight. “Trust me.” His brows knit together. “That crossed my mind.”
“Then imagine what other people might think.” The building of frustration and guilt begin to swirl up inside me.
“I’m not here to say that’s going to be okay. I can’t. However, I do think someone needs to tell you that’s it’s okay to eventually move on, and maybe that’s now or not. Just… you are.”
Widening my eyes to keep tears down, I appreciate his encouragement. “I’m not sure what to say. I wasn’t expecting the conversation to go this way.”
He chuckles and adjusts his plate in front of him. “Trust me, yesterday I wouldn’t have expected it either. It’s just, youare my kid sister, and whatever sliver it may take to ease your pain, I’ll allow it.”
I laugh. “Allow it? I swear to God, this whole honorable-brother philosophy that everyone in Lake Spark possesses is making me question the water here.”
“So what? It has me sitting in front of you, telling you that you can do all this in your own way. Being sad for life isn’t what Zac would have wanted.”
A warmth fills my heart because he’s right. I just don’t remind myself enough.
I pick up my fork and begin to play with my eggs, and I’m going to be honest. “I just don’t know how to handle all of this except to say that Nash is helping.” A faint smile cracks the lines on my face. “It’s crazy. Sometimes I wonder if Zac did all this on purpose. But that would just be… I’m not sure what it would be.”
Keats gives me a knowing glare. “Is it far-fetched?”
Hmm, that hypothesis is so obvious, but still, I’m not ready to commit to the theory.
“Can we move on from this conversation? A sunnier topic, perhaps?” I implore.
Keats beams at me. “You’ve earned that after listening to me.”
“Geez, thanks,” I state dryly, and it causes him to chuckle.
“I think I’ll leave later today. I’ll take Bo to the park and then head out. It seems I don’t need to stay a few days to babysit you, and you’re doing alright. You have someone stepping in for me.”
A warm wry smile naturally appears. “I think so, too.”
“Good. Because Bo spit up on my expensive shirt, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a repeat and a need to replace my wardrobe,” he jokes.
Now comfortable, I get to work on my plate of food. “Please, oh please,” I beg with my hands in prayer, “let me find you a girlfriend. Maybe on one of those apps or see if taking out a newspaper ad will help. One day you might have a child, and then you’ll never care about any shirt, you’ll see. And if kids aren’t for you, then at least you’ll have a relationship, and I don’t need to learn a new name.”
“Watch it there. I can rewind this entire breakfast if you feel like you want to take us back to an uncomfortable discussion,” he teases.
I ruefully shake my head. “Shut up and pass me the salt.”
I’ve been lucky. The past few days between Nash and my brother, I’ve been distracted, as if life is almost whole again. That’s a promising start.
Over the remainder of our breakfast, we change topics to his work and our holiday schedules to puzzle a time to get together. It’s only when Nash slowly strolls into the dining room, eyeing us, unsure of the atmosphere, that I’m reminded I need to work soon.
“Hey,” I greet him.
“I was with Stone, checking on something for the Dizzy Duck, and thought I would stop by.” Nash stares at Keats with caution which now nearly makes me laugh.
It’s only a solid ten seconds of silence before my brother pulls out his chair and stands. “Well, I think I need to get a move on. Just let the babysitter know I’m stopping by to hang with my nephew for an hour.”
I stand too and nervously play with my hair. “Of course.”
Keats and Nash give one another a nod, and when my brother offers his hand to Nash, confusion floods Nash’s face, but he reluctantly shakes his hand. A strong shake, a shake of truce, and it’s kind of touching.
“Take care of her,” my brother warns Nash.
