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She gave him one of her mom looks, and considering Chandan wasn’t even three months old yet, she was pretty damn good at it already. “It’s what you didn’t do.”
“Oh?” He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and swallowed. “And what’s that?”
“Oh, you know, just little things like eating an actual meal, getting some decent sleep—taking care of yourself, Brendan,” she admonished him.
He chewed on a piece of bacon, not bothering to respond, because Brendan knew Chloe. And she wasn’t done.
“You get what—maybe three hours of sleep a night? You think I don’t see when you get home? I’m up feeding a baby, Brendan! Your fridge is empty, except for beer and leftover pizza. And Bo’s right, you look like hell.” She smirked then and held up a pink tote bag. “He suggested I give you a facial. Finish your breakfast, baby.”
The fuck?
He decided Bo was an asshole.
“No fucking way.” Then he added with a smirk, “Unless I get to return the favor.”
As usual, Chloe somehow managed to get her way, though. She stood behind his head as he reclined on a leather chaise in his living room, rubbing some kind of goop into his skin and wrapping it in a warm wet towel. At least whatever she was using didn’t smell all girly, and while he hated to admit it, someone taking care of him felt rather nice.
She massaged his scalp and his temples with slow, firm, circular strokes. “Mm, that feels good.”
“See?” He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her smiling behind him.
“How’d you learn how to do that?”
She wiped off his face with the towel. “YouTube. One day Jesse was saying that this was the best part about going to the barber, and we both know how often he and Taylor get haircuts.”
He chuckled. “Jesse’s always hated cutting his hair.”
“So I wanted to be able to do this for him. And for Tay.”
“They’re both so lucky to have a woman who loves them the way you do.”
“I’m the lucky one, Bren.” Her fingers stilled on his skin. “And there’s someone out there who will love you too.”
He patted her hand on his face and smiled. “There isn’t.”
“There is.” Chloe came and sat beside him on the chaise.
Brendan reached out for a lock of her hair, the color of nutmeg, and wrapped it around his finger. He thought of the girl with silky hair the color of ripe wheat and let it unravel.
He looked down at his empty fingers. “Not all of us are meant to have that, Chloe.” And huffed out a sardonic chuckle. “C’mon, can you see a guy like me with a good little wife and two point five children?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Then she giggled. “And no. Two or three children, maybe. You can’t have half a kid.” She paused. “Seriously though, Bren, don’t you want that—a family?”
It’s not that he didn’t. Family was the most important thing in the world to him and he loved his fiercely. That’s the only way he knew how. It’s the way they’d been taught. Brendan and his cousins were closer than brothers. Chloe and Linnea. Venery. They’d been his friends his entire life. They were his family, and now they were lucky enough to all live here together on Park Place.
A private street that dead-ended at Coventry Park. Dillon negotiated the real estate deal of a lifetime for them when Hugh Brantley was forced to declare himself insolvent. As part of the bankruptcy proceedings, he had to liquidate his assets, sell off his properties. The investment company the four cousins owned together had done business with Hugh in the past and Park Place had ten vintage three-flat apartment buildings sitting on it. So they bought it, gated it, and converted the buildings into grand single-family residences for each of them—a family compound in the middle of the city. Who fucking does that?
Brendan smiled to himself. They did. Because that’s just how tight they were, how fiercely they loved each other. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to love, or that he wasn’t capable of it, for he loved far more intensely than most ever could. That’s the side of him Chloe knew. But he knew himself better. Most people outside his circle would describe him as cold. Unfeeling. An asshole. A deviant—depraved even. He knew he was fucked up. A man like him didn’t get to marry the girl with the face of an angel and make babies. A man like him fucked a lot of women like Salena and ran a sex club. So, as much as he loved the thought of filling up this big house with a family of his own, it was just that. A nice dream. A fantasy. Nothing more.
And sometimes a fantasy is best left as just that.
“I already have that, sweetheart.” Brendan pulled Chloe against him and hugged her close. He rested his head on hers and closed his eyes. She was soft and warm and smelled of milk and coconuts. “I’ve got all of you.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She play-swatted his arm.
He chuckled. “I know.”
The sounds of his front door opening and a baby crying saved him from elaborating further. Jesse strolled into his living room holding a very unhappy Chandan against his bare chest. The baby’s head, covered in downy black curls, bobbed with his attempt to root for a nonexistent food supply from his father and Brendan couldn’t help but laugh.
