Page 68 of But For You

“At night, before you go to bed⁠—”

“I got it,” I said as I reached him.

“When you’re home, you press the occupied button, and the alarm will shut off for interior movement and only alert you if a door or window is opened.”

“Okay.”

“Again, when you leave, or when––”

“I’ve got it, I swear.”

He squinted at me.

“Oh c’mon, I’m a grown-up and everything.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Announcing the obvious.” I snickered. “You haven’t done that in years.”

“Very droll.”

I shrugged.

“On Tuesday, Aja expects you for dinner and drinks at our place at seven.”

“Why?”

“She’s having a dinner party for her friend, Randall Erickson, who has just moved back into town.”

I studied his face. “Who is he? Old boyfriend?”

Dane scoffed. “No, actually, he’s a friend from college, and I got the feeling he was gay, though I didn’t pry.”

“You wouldn’t let Aja’s exes in your house, would you?”

“Aja does as she pleases; it’s our house, and she invites who she wants.”

“And you wouldn’t care?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

It made sense that he wouldn’t. Dane did not suffer the normal feelings of inadequacy or have the bouts of uncertainty that most people did. He knew exactly who he was, knew his pros outweighed his cons, and had been told, on more than one occasion by more than one woman, that if he should ever find himself single again to please, please call. But I knew Aja, and she and Dane were in it for the long haul.

I always enjoyed watching them in any social situation. They would check on each other across rooms; Dane would smile and give her a head tip, and she would blow him a kiss or crook her finger at him. When they stood together, normally, she held his hand, and if not, his arm was around her. They sat together always unless there were place cards, and even then, they would be up and down because one of them thought of something to tell the other. People stopped seating them apart because it was simply too distracting. They finished one another’s sentences; she laughed at his jokes, which were horrible; and he was always on time because, as he said, her time was precious to him, so why would he make her wait?

“Jory.”

“Sorry. What?”

“When I had Pedro pick up your cat from Dylan, I took the liberty of having him speak to her about babysitting your kids for you on Tuesday night, and she agreed.”

Pedro Blue was Dane’s assistant—had been for going on five years at this point. I was proud of myself because I was the one who had chosen him and he was still there and had become invaluable to my brother. Pedro had recently gotten married in Boston, and the honeymoon to Paris that Dane had sent them on probably cemented his and Dane’s relationship for life. Pedro had gushed over the phone to me the last time we talked.

“And how was their honeymoon?”

“I didn’t ask.” He squinted at me.

“You didn’t have to ask him how many times a day he got laid, but you could have inquired if he liked the Louvre.”