“Oh, did I not mention? Dean was bringing Levi tonight. Best man duties and wedding coordination.” She pats my arm. “It’ll be fun!”
Before I can respond—before I can run or do anything at all—they appear in the kitchen doorway.
Dean looks exactly like he always does: tall, broad, salt-and-pepper hair, the permanent expression of a man who isn’t impressed by anything.He’s carrying a bag of groceries and wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
And behind him is Levi.
Our eyes meet. My stupid heart skips.
But what I notice first—before the skip, before the flush, before the familiar ache—is that he looks awful.
Not in the way fame makes people look awful, all dramatic and photogenic. He looks genuinely spent. The shadows under his eyes are darker than they were at the shop, bruised and deep-set, like he hasn’t slept in days. His skin has that grayish cast that comes from too much caffeine and not enough rest. When he reaches out to shake my hand—an absurdly formal gesture that neither of us commits to, so it turns into a weird half-wave—his fingers tremble. Just slightly. Just enough that I catch it because I’m looking too closely, the way I always look too closely when it comes to him.
He catches me noticing. Shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Delilah.” Dean’s mouth twitches—the closest thing to amusement I’ve ever seen on his face. “Funny seeing you here.”
“Hilarious,” I manage.
Dean drops the groceries on the counter andclaps Levi on the shoulder. “You know, it’s amazing. You’ve barely been around for years, and suddenly you’re showing up everywhere now that Delilah’s been in town awhile. Real mysterious timing, little brother.”
“I’m here for the wedding and to write. That’s all.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Dean’s almost-smile widens. “Jo, where do you want the steaks?”
Jo takes the groceries like nothing unusual is happening. “On the counter is fine, honey. Levi, can I get you something to drink? We have wine, beer, sweet tea?—”
“Beer,” Levi says. “Please.”
“Delilah?”
“Beer sounds great.”
Jo bustles around the kitchen, and Dean excuses himself to fire up the grill. Which leaves me standing three feet away from Levi, with absolutely nowhere to hide.
“So,” he says.
“So,” I echo.
We both take a sip of beer at the exact same time. Then we both lower our bottles at the exact same time. Then we both open our mouths tospeak at the exact same time, and I want the floor to swallow me whole.
Jo makes a sound behind us that she poorly disguises as a cough.
She presses fresh cold bottles into our hands, beaming like a woman who’s just won the lottery. “Why don’t you two go sit on the back porch? The sunset’s going to be gorgeous tonight. Dean and I will handle dinner.”
“I could help with—” I start.
“Porch,” Jo says firmly.
“But the salad?—”
“Is handled.”
“I’m really good at chopping?—”
“Delilah.” Jo’s smile doesn’t waver but her eyes saydon’t test me. “Porch. Now.”
It’s not a suggestion.
