During one of our conversations, Aidan throws his head back and laughs. I’ll never fucking live that moment down with either one of my brothers.

“Yeah, Andrew was drunk out of his mind,” Aidan explains to Camryn to the constant rolling of my eyes, “when the modeling scout came up to him in my bar that night.”

Oh, here it comes, Aidan’s overly dramatic replay of that event. Camryn’s smiling from ear to ear and no doubt getting a kick out of watching me squirm next to her.

“The guy sat down beside Andrew on the barstool and said something about him having ‘the look.’ ” Aidan stops long enough to shake his head. “And before the guy could finish, Andrew turned to him and said with a crazy Charles Manson expression, ‘Dude, did you eat my fuckin’ peanuts?’ The look on that guy’s face was priceless. He was scared, even backed up like he thought Andrew was about to hit him.”

Camryn and Michelle laugh.

“Then the guy pulled a business card from his wallet and said, ‘Ever thought of modeling?’ and handed the card out to him. Andrew just looked at it, but didn’t take it.”

“I did take it,” I say.

Aidan smirks over at me. “Yeah, but not until after you so eloquently explained how you could never be a model because it’s for ‘guys without nutsacks’ and—”

“Yeah, all right, Aidan,” I interrupt and take a quick sip of my beer.

“Why have I never seen you that drunk before?” Camryn asks. She can’t wipe the grin off her face, loving every minute of this, and it makes me smile and give up the act. I reach out and skim her golden braid with the tops of my fingers.

“Well,” I begin, “you’ve never seen me that drunk because I’ve grown up since then.”

Michelle chokes out a laugh.

“Hey,” I say, pointing at her, “you’re one to talk, ’Chelle. I do recall the last time I was here, you dancing like a drunk stripper at the bar after a few too many drinks.”

Her mouth falls open. “I did not strip, Andrew!”

Aidan laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “I don’t know, if I hadn’t been there that night we might be divorced.”

Michelle whaps him across the face with the couch pillow she had been leaning against.

“I never would’ve stripped off my clothes,” she laughs. Aidan, unfazed by the attack, can’t stop smiling.

Neither can Camryn. I get lost in Camryn’s smile for a minute, glad to see she’s having such a good time.

Michelle adds, “You two are awful when you get together.”

“Hey, because you’re married to the dickhead,” I say, “it makes you fair game.”

“Yeah,” Aidan says. “Just be glad Asher’s not here, too, because he’s not as innocent as you think he is.”

Damn right he’s not. That little shit can be devious when he wants to be.

Michelle unfolds her legs from the cushion and stands up to clear away the plates and stuff from the coffee table. Camryn gets up, too.

“Well, I think I’ve been a Parrish long enough to know. Trust me.” She stacks the plates while Camryn helps her clear away the napkins and a few empty beer bottles.

“Why so quiet, Camryn?” Aidan says from the couch. “You may not be married to my brother yet, but you might as well be, and that makes you fair game, too.” He raises his beer toward her as if to toast and then takes another drink, grinning mischievously.

Smart brother I have. If he wasn’t so ugly, I’d kiss him on the mouth for that. Last thing I want is for Camryn to feel left out.

She smirks at him, balancing the stuff in her arms. “I guess it’s a good thing you have nuthin’ on me yet.”

“Yet,” he says, nodding once as if to underline the inevitable in that word. “Guess you have a lot of uncomfortable hazing to look forward to then, huh?”

Camryn wrinkles her cute nose at him and follows Michelle into the kitchen.

Camryn

13

“I’m really glad you invited us here,” I say behind Michelle as I toss the empty beer bottles into the trash.

Michelle sets the small stack of plates on the counter and starts to rinse them off in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher. “Hey, no problem,” she says, smiling at me. “I needed some company, to be honest. It’s been pretty stressful around here.” She places another plate into the dishwasher rack below.

I move closer and lean against the counter, crossing my arms. Is she giving me permission to probe by saying that? I’m not sure, but I’m comfortable with her enough that I go ahead and do it anyway.

“Your job taking a lot out of you?” What I really wanted to ask was: Everything OK between you and Aidan? remembering what Marna said about she and Aidan having some marriage troubles, but I think that’s probing a little too much too soon.

She smiles warmly and rinses off the last plate. “No, I think being at the clinic is therapy, if anything.”

I stay quiet, but attentive.

“That bar is taking a lot out of Aidan lately,” she goes on, “but he’s doing it to himself. He has more than enough employees to handle things, but he spends a lot of time there dealing with the things he’s paying everyone else to do.”

I look at her curiously. “Why?”

She shuts the dishwasher and glances toward the arched entryway that leads into the living room where Aidan and Andrew are talking and laughing and saying “Shit, bro” a lot. Then she turns back to me and says in a lowered voice, “He’s just upset with me.” She looks away and dries her hands off on a dishrag hanging from the cabinet knob above the counter.

That’s it? I keep quiet a few seconds just in case she’s the really-long-pause type, but she doesn’t go on. It frustrates me a little. Then suddenly she says, “I shouldn’t be bringing things like this up. Not after what you and Andrew went through. I’m really sorry.”

“No, Michelle,” I say, hoping to ease her mind. “Hey, I’m here to listen.”

For some strange reason, Michelle bringing up what Andrew and I “went through” doesn’t bother me like it always did when everybody else would do it. Maybe it’s because I know she’s not trying to force me to talk about it, or is afraid to be normal around me. Right now, it’s all about Michelle, and I want to be here for her.

She hesitates, glancing once more toward the living room, and sighs. “He wants children,” she says and I feel my heart tighten, but I don’t let it show in my face. “And I do, too—just not right now.”

“Oh, I see.” I nod and think about it for a second. “Well, it could be worse. At least it has nothing to do with an affair or that he has suddenly started cooking meth in the basement.”

Michelle laughs lightly and hangs the dishrag back on the cabinet.

“You’re right,” she says, her brown eyes lit up with her smile. “I never thought of it like that. I just wish he’d give me three more years at least. I’m around children all day, being a pediatrician. I love them. You have to, to do the kind of work I do, but I have a deeper level of insight when it comes to the responsibility of raising one. Aidan’s insight stops at Little League and camping trips, you know what I mean?”

I laugh gently. “Yeah.”

A very small part of me wonders if Michelle is saying this to me as her way of trying to ease my own pain, by telling me that raising a baby is hard. Maybe she is, but at the same time, I think it’s just me. Telling me what’s going on between her and Aidan and considering the issue, it would be hard not to say something like that.

“So, how is Andrew’s physical therapy going?”

The mood instantly shifts within the room, like we can both breathe a little easier now that we’ve gotten through the risky subject matter.