Page 74 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

I lose track of my own answer completely, finishing the question with half my brain while the other half runs through every reason she could possibly be here, in a display village she has no earthly reason to know exists.

The second the architect thanks me and moves on, I'm across the room.

She's wearing a dress I haven't seen before, mid-calf length, soft, flowy, dark green, buttons down the length of the front, her hair down and natural, and she looks so good it actually knocks something loose in my chest.

"Hey," I say, my cheeks almost aching from my smile.

"Hi." She smiles, and there's something nervous catching at the corners of her lips, like she's not entirely sure of her welcome. "I hope it's okay that I came. I saw it in the group chat and I got curious, and then curiosity turned into looking up the address, and then..."

Before she says another word, I grab her arms and pull her into a tight hug, burying my face in her hair.

She feels like warmth and home and safety and...

"Oh," she exhales, almost inaudibly.

"Thank you for coming," I whisper into her neck. "Thank you so much."

She just nods, and for a second, her arms come up to tighten around my back. And then she lets go.

I hold on a moment longer. Then I drop my arms and step back, gazing at her, still not sure that she's actually here.

"How'd you even find it? I don't think I said anything about where it was in the group, did I?"

She shakes her head. "I'm a researcher, Marcus," she says with a shrug. "I haven't gone to school for a million years and racked up all this student debt just to not be able to find something on Google."

I laugh. "Well, then I am ever indebted to your student debt." I beam at her, and she shifts, a little unnerved by my reaction. Pull it back, Marcus, you're scaring her. I rub my hands together to give them something to do. "So, want a tour? I can give you all the sordid details."

Her little chuckle drains any nervousness I had left in my body about the showing. "Obviously. Lead the way."

I take her through the property. I show her how the plans come down from the design office, how we plan everything down to the tiniest detail before a move is made on the land, how time, resources, and the freaking weather affect every decision. And finally, why we're here tonight.

"So tonight's basically a report card?" she says.

"Tonight's basically everything."

We walk through the entirety of the house, close. When her hand trails along the kitchen benchtop I laid myself, a warmth spreads through my ribcage. When exhales a soft "wow" when she sees the balcony view through the upstairs bedroom window, I imagine building such a view just for her.

"Where did you learn how to do all this?" she says, standing dead centre in the open living room of the upstairs.

My eyes catch hers. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she waves her hands around, "how and when and where did you learn how to do this?"

I let out a soft laugh. "Mostly on the job. Sure, I took a few workshops along the way, but on site, we all teach and learn from each other." I lay a gentle hand on her back and lead her out onto the side balcony. Jack's downstairs, waving his arms enthusiastically at the eastern wall. "See him? Looks like a right idiot, but you'll never see anyone lay a brick wall faster or better. If anyone else tried what he does, your house would come tumbling down in months. He's got the magic touch, can't teach that, but he can give the other guys tips to be better."

Her questions keep coming, and none of them are the questions I usually get. Not about cost cutting, not about building codes. She wants to know how I pick the suppliers I do, why we chose engineered oak over solid, what happens to the crew when a job like this wraps, whether Macca's been with me since the beginning, what's my favourite part of building, what the industry looks like now. Curious, interested questions — the kind that mean she's listening to my answers, building a picture of the life I've spent a decade putting together, nail by nail. I answer every single one, hoping they'll never stop coming.

After the full tour, we end up back on the first-floor balcony as the last of the light fades into night. The whole display village and its lights spread out below us, we imagine the cars in driveways of families that haven't moved in, a street full of houses nobody's slept in, dreamt in.

I turn, resting my arm on the railing, looking at her in the moonlight.

"I have something for you," she says, and pulls a small box out of her bag, wrapped in brown paper with a bit of string.

I blink. "What?"

She dips her face, embarrassed. "It's nothing big. It's...silly, actually." She pulls the package back.

"No," I reach out and grab it a little too eagerly than I mean to. And hug it to my chest. "I mean, you brought me something?"