Page 65 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

I imagine that’s what Serena aims for with her photography. All art is some form of that, in one way or another. Trying to get someone else to feel what you feel. With cooking, I’m trying to convey the satisfaction of the knife through a mushroom, thesizzleof an onion in the pan, in each and every bite my guests take.

Travis, Graham, and Serena all come and sit down, taking in the spread.

Pasta and wild boar sauce, a farro salad, plenty of olives and antipasti, and of course, the finest wine from the property’s cellar. Part of the staff’s job is to keep the wine cellar stocked, and they’ve done an excellent job.

The string lights sparkle overhead. A warm sea breeze ferries in off the coast. Distantly, there’s the sound of waves crashing, and the indelible scent of the lemon trees scattered around the property. The air here justfeelscleaner, and no doubt, itis.

“This looks great, man,” Graham says, picking up his fork and eagerly piling food onto his plate. Serena follows his lead, and once we’re all eating, things loosen up.

“Serena,” I say after everyone has taken their first bites, their first sips of wine. “Can I ask you something? About… how you grew up?”

A flicker of—what? Fear? Apprehension?—moves over her face, but she nods, reaching for her wine glass like she might need it to answer.

“I know that you were in the system,” I say, trying to be as gentle as possible. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while. “But you also lived with your grandmother? That’s where you got the record player? Did you live with her before, or…?”

Serena presses her lips into a line, nods, and takes a sip of wine before clearing her throat and answering. “Yeah—so, my parents died when I was young. My mother ran away from home when she was a teenager and was in a rough crowd for a while. She got clean when she had me, apparently. According to my health records, I didn’t… have any problems.”

“Problems?” Travis asks, before taking a bite.

“Like, babies born to addicts can sometimes be born addicted. And I wasn’t.” Serena lets out a sigh. “For most of my childhood, I was in the system. Then I turned twelve. That’s the age when, for most kids, you’re pretty much done. You’re not getting adopted after that. I was fifteen when my grandma found out about me. She didn’t even know my mom was pregnant. Didn’t even know that I was?—”

Serena cuts off, her voice getting thick. Travis reaches over, puts a hand on her back, and she gives him a look I don’t quite understand—slightly upset, but not fully. Maybe she hasn’t forgiven him for dodging her all those weeks.

“Anyway,” she says forcefully, like she’s pushing herself to move past it. “So, when my grandma found me, I went to live with her. It was… she was the best. For a while, she was so tornup about it. Apologizing to me, like it was her fault she didn’t know. I didn’t even have to think about forgiving her.”

“For a few years there, we did so much stuff. She gave me my grandpa’s old camera, and that’s when I got into photography. She had this huge garden with lilacs, bleeding hearts, rose bushes—shelovedgardening.”

“She sounds like a cool person,” I say, heart aching for thebutthat must be coming. Serena talks about her grandmother in the past tense. For the first time, I think about how lucky I am to have so much family. Both sets of grandparents are alive and thriving back in Omaha. Sisters and my parents, so many cousins always asking to crash at my place when they come to the city.

What would it have been like, to be like Serena? Not just moving from place to place, but alone? As a little kid? It must have been impossibly isolating.

And it explains a lot about her. Her insistence on being useful. I can see in her, that urge to earn love. As if she would ever need to. Not with me.

Not with us.

Serena looks down at the table, eyes soft. “She passed away one month after my high school graduation. It was the happiest day of my life, to have her there for it. I’d always thought—well, I thought I would be alone. But she was waiting for me, crying, wrapping her arms around me when I got off the stage.”

There’s a moment of silence as we digest that information. Then, Graham knocks his knuckles against the table, getting Serena’s attention. When she looks up at him, I can still see the remnants of their physical connection from earlier.

“Well, whatever you have from now on,” Graham says, looking at her intently, “award ceremonies, balls, anything—I’ll be there waiting for you, Serena.”

It’s a bold declaration from the guy, especially when he can’t even commit to being in the same country. But, for some reason, it doesn’t ring false.

In a way, it feels like Graham took the words right out of my own thoughts.

“Me, too,” I say, lifting my glass, winking at Serena, who hastily wipes a tear from her cheek.

“Me, too,” Travis says, and then we’re all clinking our glasses together, and Serena is laughing, and life suddenly feels so much sweeter.

Chapter 35

Serena

When there’s a knock at my door later on that night, I know right away that it’s Travis. Maybe I’m desperate to know the cadence of his movements, to identify his knock without needing to see him. At this point, I’m a little past caring.

Even though I’m exhausted, I haven’t been able to fall asleep. Instead, I’ve just been staring up at the ceiling, blinking dazedly, my mind turning over and over the events of the past few days.

More than anything else, I keep seeing Bianca. Hearing the desperation in her voice.