Page 14

“He called me,” I remind him. “Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, to talk business, not give you permission to fuck his baby sister and play head games with her.”

I roll my eyes, exasperated. “I’m not playing head games. Birdie came here last night all on her own, I’m not some depraved asshole who forced her into anything.”

“Depraved, no, asshole, yes.” With one last look at Birdie, Björn’s shoulders sag in resignation. “Have her call me when she’s home. And don’t fuck this up.” With that, Björn leaves and I follow.

“Later, Rowland,” he says, grabbing his phone and his wallet.

“Wait,” Rowland replies, grabbing his stuff. “I’ll come down with you. I have to get to work anyway.”

Row bumps my fist, and once I’ve seen them out, and shut my front door, I head back to my bedroom. Birdie’s still asleep, curled up on her side. The sight is so familiar, it’s like a punch to the gut. To think I left her behind in search of what I thought was better. It actually had nothing to do with Birdie, but I was too young, too stupid, to see that everything I could ever want was always right in front of me. And in my grasp too because I had her. She was mine, I didn’t have to look for her. She was just there. And now that it’s just us, in my quiet apartment, I can admit to myself last night was wild. I use the bathroom, pop some ibuprofen, and contemplate sleeping on my couch. In the end, my need to be close to Birdie wins out. She mumbles something in her sleep when I move her so we can lie under the comforter, but as soon as she settles, she rolls back onto her side, her back to me. Staying on my side of the bed isn’t an option, so I curl myself around her, pulling her into my chest and inhaling her scent. She smells like me, and it makes my lips tilt up, just a bit. She lets out a breath, relaxing into me, and takes a hold of my hand. I’m exhausted, but I fight sleep just long enough to enjoy having her in my arms again. However it happened doesn’t matter — we drank too much after arguing and one thing lead to another, it’s not science — but what does matter is how upset Birdie was when she arrived at the bar. She may have already been tipsy, but she’d also been crying, and had a mouthful to say about my conversation with Harlan. Yes, he called me, but I made it clear I would only negotiate with Birdie as far as my boarded-up space was concerned. The treat thing wasn’t a solid plan to get into her life, or bring her back into mine, but having her co-own my space definitely is. And that’s my motive. If she wants to expand her café, we’re doing it together. An idea she vehemently shot down when I suggested it, but I didn’t put too much stock into her refusal because by then, she’d had more to drink, and Björn had shown up. I also realized her frustration about what I was doing was a small part of a bigger frustration, and more than anything, she was hurt because of Harlan. “He didn’t even include me in the engagement plans,” she sniffled, looking at Björn. He was doing a good job of ignoring me. “I thought he’d at least ask me to go ring shopping with him, you know?”

“Unless he was worried it would upset you,” Björn replied. “You always told him you’d get engaged to the fucktard sitting next to you, and when he left…” Bjorn glared at me, then softened his expression when he looks back at Birdie, “that dream went out the window.”

Rather than look at me, Birdie downed another shooter. “Right. He did that, didn’t he? Promised me the world in which we’d get married and have babies and whatever else we could dream of and then decided I wasn’t enough.” Another shooter got tossed back. “And it’s not like he didn’t want to get married, he just didn’t want to marry me.” Her voice trembled. “And now,” she finally turned to face me, “you want to negotiate for the storefront you’re not using. Like make up your fucking mind, Ethan. You came back and wanted back into my life, and my panties too I think, and now I must make a deal with the devil just for the sake of my little café that, yes, I made happen without you. It’s not a Michelin-star,” she hiccuped, “establishment, but it’s my dream, the one I built without you, and I made it. You can stick your negotiation up your sexy, too-tight ass, and just leave me alone, mmkay? I don’t even like you right now, but your treats have me wanting to bang your brains out because we made those recipes together, remember?” Björn tried to get the next shooter out of Birdie’s hands, but she was too fast, even drunk. “We’d make those desserts and then fuck in your kitchen. Or my kitchen. Or, like, in the living room, even. It never mattered, right? As long as you had access to my pussy when you wanted, you were happy, and you kept feeding me bullshit to keep me happy, and then, poof,” she made an explosion with her hands, “you left, and you got married, and now you’re just back, like nothing happened, and you’re divorced, and I’m a giant ball of sexual frustration because no man after you had a dick like yours, like so big I walked funny afterwards—”

Her tangent was interrupted but only because I swallowed my whisky and choked, the amber liquid coming out my nose. “Jesus, Bird,” I coughed. “The whole place can hear you.”

I asked the bartender to pour me another, a double, and after hearing her monologue about how I hurt her, I tossed it back, and asked for another.

“I don’t care, Ethan Woodssss.” Another hiccup. “You’re a fucking fucker who fucked up and now I dream about you fucking me in every fucking position, I’ve even made up a few new ones in my head, but you’ll never get the chance. And I don’t want your restaurant, okay? Or your dick. Keep them both to yourself. I don’t need your help or your dick, I survived the whole time you were in France without anything from you.”

I took every hit she threw at me, allowed her to get it all out, and like the idiot I am, told her she could have my storefront if we could be partners. She hated that, but somehow, the argument about the proposal had us both drinking a bit more, and fighting in a way that turned me on. Björn cut us both off, and hailed a cab for Birdie, telling her to go home.

She didn’t listen.

Instead, we fell into a cab together once Björn had gone back to work, mouths locked, and fumbled our way up to my apartment, tearing clothes, scratching, biting. You name it, we did it. Neither of us had any kind of restraint, but even when were dating, it was impossible to keep our hands off each other. And, well, it was the most intense night of sex I’ve ever had. I’m just not sure if Birdie regrets it or not. I mean, I hope not. She stayed, didn’t she? That has to mean something. I’ve just dozed off when Birdie’s phone rings, and I scramble to find it before it wakes her. It’s beneath the heap of clothes we left at the foot of the bed and when I pick it up, I cringe when I see Harlan’s name flashing on the screen. I step out of my bedroom, and answer once I’m in my living room, knowing he’ll worry if he can’t find Birdie.

“Harlan,” I greet, trying to keep my cool.

“You bastard!” he yells. I pull the phone away from my ear to save my eardrums. “You took advantage of my sister when she was intoxicated, and fucked her! I should have known you would do this, you used my interest in your restaurant to manipulate Bird, knowing she can’t resist you! If you’ve hurt her—”

My involuntary snort interjects his yelling, and I take the chance to say, “You’re the reason she got drunk, Harlan.”

“What? That’s bullshit, Ethan. She’s been all over the place lately, and I know it’s not just because she’s been overwhelmed at the café. You’ve done something—”

“Actually, you did it,” I tell him. “She’d been crying before she arrived at Björn’s bar, and where was she before that, huh?” The line goes quiet, and then, “Shit.”

“Yeah, Harlan. I was already at the bar when Bird arrived but you’re the reason she showed up in the first place. And the rest is between me and Birdie, regardless of what you think. So before you show up at my place,” — I know he knows where I live, even if his means of finding out was nefarious — “ask yourself if seeing you is what’s good for Birdie right now.”

“Ethan?” My head whips to the side at the sound of her soft, husky voice. I didn’t even hear her approach. Her hair is dried, and hangs in wavy curls around her face and over her shoulders and she’s ditched my sweats. She’s practically drowning in my t-shirt, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Is that my brother?”

I nod, realizing she must’ve heard at least part of my conversation with him. Birdie’s lip trembles, and out of instinct, I reach for her. Relieved when she allows it. “Put her on,” Harlan barks. “Now.”

She must hear that too because she glances at the phone, and then at me. She shakes her head.

Message received. I put the phone to my ear. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now, Harlan. But I’ll do you the courtesy of letting you know when I’ve dropped her off at home.” I doubt Birdie will let me do that, but Harlan doesn’t need to know. Birdie doesn’t want to talk to him, and I won’t force her.

“The hell you will,” Harlan snaps. “I’m coming to you right now, and I’m fetching my sister.”

Birdie sighs, and takes the phone but doesn’t step away from me. “I’ll call you when I’m home, Harlan.”

Whatever he says makes her frown. “No, I don’t want to see you.” Her voice cracks again, and I hold her tighter. “When I’m ready to talk to you, I will, okay? Just give me some space. Please.” A few seconds later, she ends the call, staring at her phone.

“You want something to eat?” I ask quietly. She looks up, and my heart squeezes in my chest when I see her expression. I’m not sure it’s talking to Harlan or looking at me that sets her off, but she tucks herself into my side and cries. Body shaking, I pick her up and carry her back to bed. Even upset, she seeks comfort in my arms and I try to quell the contrition in my gut. It’s not just Harlan who’s done this to her, it’s me too. I pushed when I should have taken my time and been patient. I kiss the crown of her head, rub my hand down her back and allow her the chance to expel whatever feelings are trapped inside her body.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask once she’s stopped shaking. She sniffles, and cranes her neck to look up.

“About Harlan excluding me from his engagement plans, or about how I still care about you after you ripped me apart and left me, or about how having you come back into my life has seriously messed with my head and my heart and has me wondering if I can still love someone who made me feel worthless?”