Page 59 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

We stop at the deli, and he orders a kilo of smoked bacon, then feigns it being too heavy when he drops it in the basket. "We're all going to die of heart disease at the rate Marcus force-feeds us bacon. There's nothing he doesn't put it on."

I chuckle. "He made that nut mix last week with the little crunchy bits — didn't admit it was maple bacon until I'd eaten a whole bucket."

"That's nothing. He made a caramel bacon topping for our ice cream sundaes in summer."

I make a face.

Rhys laughs. "It was actually delicious."

We wander to the meat section and I point at the pork. "He's fattening us up so we turn into little piggies." I glance at the pork belly then down at my soft middle. "I'm already halfway there."

I laugh at my own joke, but when I turn to Rhys, he's not laughing.

"It was a joke, Rhys," I say, nudging him.

He surprises me by gently holding my elbow and steering me into an empty aisle, his eyes dark as they catch mine. "It wasn't funny, Alexi. Don't make that joke again. And you better not be skipping breakfast or lunch."

"Rhys, I⁠—"

His grip tightens. "Promise me." Two lines appear between his eyebrows. "I hate that you ever thought you needed to. I don't want you thinking that way about yourself. I'm not kidding. Promise me."

The air goes out of my lungs. All I can do is tilt my chin down. "I promise."

Relief floods his face, and his hand slides down my arm as he drops my elbow. "Good. Now let's find some lower-sodium turkey bacon and swap it in for the normal stuff, see if Marcus notices."

An unexpected laugh slips out and earns me a glare from an older lady in the aisle.

We wander through the Asian food aisle for noodles and another bottle of sweet chilli sauce. Rhys comes up behind me at the soy sauce, offering his expert critique of supermarket brands versus the Asian grocer's, but lets me grab a small bottle since we're low, and if there's one thing the three men and I agree on, it's that soy sauce goes with everything.

"How's work going?" I ask, mostly to fill the silence.

He surprises me by answering. Rhys doesn't usually do small talk.

"Good, mostly." He drops a packet of popcorn in the basket without asking if I want it. I do, it's my favourite late-night snack. "I like it. Building programs from scratch, seeing the results of my clients' work. I like mentoring the junior counsellors, that side of it works." A pause. "But it's creatively stifling sometimes."

"If it's creativity you're craving, your job might not be the right place for that," I joke. The second I say it, I want to stuff the words back in my mouth. He doesn't flinch, not exactly. But there's a beat where I watch him process it and then his mouth sets into a tight line and he moves on.

We keep shopping. He's quieter after that. I hate that I stopped him from sharing when it's so rare for him.

We turn into the baking aisle and I grab a bag of flour.

"Baking?" he asks.

"Yeah. Thinking of making some chai banana bread. To bring into work tomorrow," I lie. I don't know why. It just feels like the right thing to say.

"They should like that." He says it softly. "What else do you need? I'll grab it."

I read out a few things and watch him work down the aisle, picking the best of everything.

When he comes back, I try to take the full basket from him, but he pulls it back. "Just let me do this. Please."

There's a vulnerability in his voice I can't quite place, but I nod and pull my hand back. He gives me a tight-lipped smile.

At the checkout, he lifts the basket onto the belt and I start unloading. When we're done, he reaches for his wallet.

"No, I've got it," I say.

"Not today." He's already got his card out.