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Chapter Nineteen
“Seven weeks? And you’ve told me nothing?” Billie asked, when we’d first arrived to discuss the twins’ third birthday and told her we were together. Her wide eyes darted from her friend, Tricia, then to me. “When did this happen… how did it… I mean… gosh, I’m speechless,” she muttered, looking flustered and throwing her hands in the air. “I want details,” she added, then glanced toward me and her cheeks immediately pinked. “I didn’t mean—”
Standing on my brother’s elevated veranda, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, I couldn’t think of a better spot to remember the day when we told Sawyer and Billie, Tricia and I were a couple. I glanced at my watch; we still had an hour until sunset.
“Yeah, you did,” Tricia quickly teased her friend, bringing their conversation back into focus. “If you want details, you’ll have to feed me,” she joked, and Billie’s gaze fell to the floor, but not before I saw the grin that had spread on her face.
Tugging at our intertwined hands, I pulled Tricia closer and kissed her softly on the temple. “You’re so fucking wicked, you know this?” I whispered quietly and was rewarded with a smug looking smile.
“I know,” she agreed, whispering back with a wink and dropped her hand from mine. Lunging forward she grabbed poor Billie in a bear hug.
Leaving them to talk, I wandered over to Sawyer who was standing behind his outside bar, chopping apples, oranges, and lemons, adding each one he did into an over-sized glass jug.
“Sangria?” I guessed, and he nodded.
“Yeah, thought we’d start light, I’m doing some steaks but Billie found this awesome fresh fish supplier that delivers. The prawns and shrimp are fabulous, and you know what a great cook she is, so there’s paella as well,” he told me proudly, glancing toward his wife, a smile spreading on his lips when he looked at her.
“This is my contribution to dinner,” he volunteered, adding the last two apples he’d chopped into the jug and eyeing the bottles of alcohol that sat on the counter. “Brandy, dark rum, Bacardi?” he asked, leaving the choice up to me.
“Brandy, it’s nearest to the taste of whiskey,” I offered, and he nodded in agreement.
“Good choice, and I found this amazing South African Shiraz wine in the store the other day, so I hope the Sangria tastes as good as I imagine it will be,” he said, “but we’ll sneak in a couple of these while the fruit ferments.”
Holding the brandy in one hand and the uncorked wine in the other, he poured an equal measure for a bit. Putting the bottles down he grabbed two glasses and poured brandy in those. Heading over to his fridge, Sawyer took out a bowl of crushed ice, added it to the jug, and then poured in the rest of the wine. Taking a long plastic stirrer from a drawer, the ice slushed gently against the jug as he mixed it all together.
Reaching into the drawer again, he pulled out a spoon and scooped a little of the mix off the top. Slurping it he gave an exaggerated gasp and grinned. “Damn, that would measure up on any South American beach,” he grinned. I could smell the alcohol from the jug and considered the alcohol content. “Beer?” he asked, opening the fridge and standing the tall jug inside.
“Sure, nothing like a brandy chaser.” After snagging two from the inside of the door, he set one down beside me. Walking around the bar, he slid onto a stool next to me. Casting me a sideward glance he leaned in, snickered, and shook his head. Ducking his head he looked under his arm toward Billie and Tricia, and made sure they were out of earshot.
“All right, I’m just going to say it and if you want to tell me I’m wrong and beat my ass, I’ll put it on notice,” my brother joked, smirking. “The last time you brought a woman to meet me, I asked you a question. Do you remember what that was?” Without waiting for confirmation from me, he continued. “Bro, this time … with her, I don’t need to ask … not because it’s none of my business,” he added, “it’s because I can see how you feel already. You’re in lurve, dude,” he teased, dropping his voice seductively low and elbowing me in the gut.
“I am… and that’s okay,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant when my heartbeat raced in my chest. Relief and pride washed over me from my admission.
“I’m so fucking happy for you, man,” he gushed, “But take it slow, I figure she’ll be a difficult one to pin down.” My chest immediately tightened that he’d say such a thing when the time we had shared together since Denver had been nothing but blissful.
“Take it from me, we’re as together as it gets.” My voice was low, but that had done nothing to hide how annoyed he’d made me. “Just be happy for me, and keep your thoughts to yourself, Saw. It’s taken us a while, but we’re singing off the same hymn sheet now. Don’t go finding cracks where there’s none to be found.”
Eyeing me for a long minute he said nothing, but I had felt he’d wanted to say more. Looking away from me he glanced down, and my gaze followed, I couldn’t help but grin when I saw my tiny nephew, Remy, down by Sawyer’s leg.
“Where did you come from, buddy?” Sawyer asked his three-year-old twin, as he tugged at the hem of his T-shirt with one little fist and rubbed a sleepy eye with the other. I had a particular soft spot for Remy; he was my namesake in his middle name.
“Can’t you sleep, buddy?” Sawyer asked, scooping him up in his arms, and cradling his head to his chest. My heart squeezed when I saw the love in Sawyer’s eyes for his son.
“I heard Uncle James in my window,” he mumbled in a muffled tone against my brother’s T- shirt. I glanced over and saw his bedroom window was slightly ajar.
“Come on then, what are you doing all the way over there?” I teased, holding my hands out to receive him. Remy immediately sprang to life, flung his hands out, and propelled the top half of his body toward me.
Taking him from Sawyer, I held him up in my arms. “Wow, look at you. Did you grow since last week?”
“Well… I’m older… I’m a big boy now, right, Daddy?” he asked, looking for confirmation from my brother.
“Yeah, you’ll be the same age as me in no time,” he joked; leaning forward Sawyer brushed Remy’s dark thick hair from his eyes.
“You’re silly, Daddy,” he replied.
“How’s that sister of yours? Is she still giving you a hard time?” I asked, and Remy scowled.
Brynn, his twin, was a handful. Those kids had a weird reversal in nature from their parents. Remy was the quieter, more serious of the two, but if you’d cut his sister down the middle you’d have found Sawyer’s gene pool from the tip of the hair on her head to her toenails. The girl was sassy, ridiculously smart, and way too old for her years. When I’d said as much to Sawyer in the past, he was quick to say she was everything Billie would have been had she grown up in a different environment.
