“Hang on, I just quickly need to chew on some raw garlic first.”
“That’s only going to repel thetoddler,not me or Brooks.”
He draws me over to a shady corner of the yard, where the red-haired man and his child are lounging on a towel. Their beagle’s leash has been looped around the ash tree. It’s panting happily, resting two adorable front paws in a plastic bowl of water.
“This is Brooks,” Will says. “Brooks, Josie.”
Brooks has brown eyes and freckles all over. His red beard is neatly groomed but objectively wiry, and despite the knowledge that he’s the same age as Will, I can see some color fading from his hair,almost blurring out. When our gazes meet, he aims me a lopsided grin.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around at the restaurant with Camila. So you’re the girl.”
“So you’re the friend,” I say. My cheeks warm when I mentally revisit what Brooks witnessed in the kitchen thirty minutes ago. “Who’s this?” I nod at the toddler.
Brooks glances over his shoulder at the little boy in a blue-and-purple-striped T-shirt and very small khaki shorts. He’s got his lower lip sucked between his teeth, messing with rainbow blocks on a stacking toy. Already the heat is getting to him; his cheeks are rosy.
“That’s Marshall. I know what you’re thinking.”
My lips quirk. “What am I thinking?”
“A toddler named Marshall?!” Brooks shrugs. “It was my ex-wife’s suggestion. I call him Marsh most of the time.”
“Sit down, if you want,” Will says. “I’ll get you a beer. Or—” He hesitates, and as I sit down, my eyes track up to his brows, which are furrowing in my direction. “Do you like beer?”
“I love beer,” I say. “What happened to the six-pack you brought?”
“It was collected by someone named Weird Stanley,” Will says.
“Rookie mistake,” I say.
Will’s lips curve. “Be right back.”
He vanishes. I turn my attention to Brooks and little Marshall. It’s sort of astounding, the fact that he’s old enough to have a child, an ex-wife, and a few gray hairs. Then again, I’m old enough to be a CEO. Not according to half of Reddit but, like, legally.
“How long have you and Will been friends?” I ask.
“Since middle school,” Brooks says. “But we didn’t keep in touch after he went to college and worked on Wall Street.”
Brooks refills his beagle’s water bowl, which the beagle had, seconds earlier, nosed over.
“What’s your dog’s name?”
“Ernie.”
“Hewwo, Ernie.” I give him a scratch between the ears. “I want a dog.”
“They’re a big responsibility,” Brooks warns me, like he knows I don’t have the time.
“Yeah,” I agree sadly. “Toddlers, too, I bet.”
Brooks screws on the lid of his water bottle, tosses it into a diaper bag, and reclines onto both palms. He surveys me one more time, his focus lingering on my T-shirt, which proudly readsDEVILED EGGS AND KEEP THEM COMING.
“How come you don’t want to be attracted to Will?” he asks. “And vice versa?”
I guess I respect his straightforwardness.
“Because it would just be a lot cleaner if we had a platonic relationship,” I answer.
“You should dye your hair brunette. He’s always been into blonds.”
