It’s May when Burke comes to visit and helps me with the restaurant. Knowing my brother, I’m aware that his visit is an intervention. That’s how things work in the St. James family. Kingston, the oldest, only steps up when things are fucked up. Myles, who avoids the family by traveling all over the world making documentaries and filming movies, would never step into an intervention. Teddy is the nurturing one. Archer and Fletcher follow our lead. Burke will only step in if it looks like a life-or-death issue.
On the day of the one-year anniversary of Callie’s death, Burke offers to drive me to the cemetery, which confirms my suspicions that his visit isn’t a coincidence. I set the flowers I bought at the grocery store on top of her tombstone and read it.
Calliope St. James. Remembered by her beloved husband and family.
It’s the first time I’ve seen it. Teddy and Burke took care of all the details. For some reason, looking at the black stone and reading the epitaph makes it real. Final. She’s gone. Up until this point, I was still hoping that she’d show up at my door. Not that I’ve been living in our house. Last fall, I packed some of my things and moved into one of the executive suites of the Merkel Hotel downtown.
Burke clears his throat. “It’s none of my business—”
“But you’re going to speak anyway,” I interrupt him, wanting to avoid the inevitable. He’s going to lecture me or tell me how I’m not living. I am. It’s just different. “Would it make any difference if I say save it for another day?”
“Maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggests, ignoring my question.
He’s not the first one to hint that I need help. I have business cards, sticky notes, paper napkins with numbers of therapists, support groups, and links to forums where I can get help. Places where I can talk to someone. As if there’s a person who has the answer to making things better. There’s nothing wrong with me.
Nothing.
I don’t need hypnotherapy, a grief counselor, or a fucking forum.
I. Am. Fine.
Fine.
I haven’t spoken, and yet, I’m worked up and angry. So fucking mad because my family doesn’t understand that I need space. I don’t need to talk about what happened.
When we lost Archer, we never heard anyone say to move on. We still mourn the loss of my younger brother. Look at Piper, his fiancée. No one has told her it’s time to let him go. It’s been five years, and she’s still single. I bet the poor woman is still hoping that one day my brother will appear. And maybe that’s why no one tells her to move on because we never found my brother’s body. There’s still hope.
A couple of tears roll down my cheeks.
“I know it hurts,” Burke says.
I bet he thinks I’m crying for Callie and not for Arch. I let him believe so.
“Zach, I’m saying this because it hurts to see you numbed. You. Are. Emotionally. Paralyzed. The only times you get angry are”—he pauses, shrugs, and shakes his head—“when I’m trying to help you. This is the first time I’ve seen you cry.”
“Then, don’t help me,” I say, instead of telling him that I’m crying because I miss our brother.
Archer was the best one of us. He died saving people. I don’t even have a place where I can go and talk to him the way I used to. I’m angry with my wife because her selfishness got her onto that fucking bus the day she died.
“I’m doing this for selfish reasons,” he says.
I snort.
“Remember the time when you got your tonsils removed, and I was at home lying on the floor, and I couldn’t move? And Dad had no idea what was wrong with me?”
I laugh and nod. “You had the effects of the anesthesia.”
“It’s like that. Your fucking mood is fucking me up. I don’t want to be selfish, but it’s time for you to get some help.”
I’m sure he’s not saying that so I’d feel like an asshole, but I do feel like one. I hate that I’m making him hurt or stay numb or whatever it is that he thinks because I don’t have my shit together.
“Maybe what I need is a change,” I say.
“That’s a good idea. You can oversee the opening of your other branches instead of hiring people. The managers in Boston can take care of the cafés and the restaurant.”
I wasn’t referring to that, but that’s an excellent idea. There’s nothing better than moving to a new city where I don’t need to avoid places that remind me of Callie.
“If you do this, where would you go?” His question snaps me out of the trance.
“I don’t know yet. I could go to Costa Rica while I decide where to start this new phase of the company.”
He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to avoid her family?”
He’s wrong. In the beginning, I visited the Brassards because I felt as if I owed them something. People think I’m grieving. I’m not. I’m carrying guilt. Maybe I’m hoping her family will absolve me. Perhaps being close to them is a way to cope. I don’t know, and I don’t want to cut ties with them until I figure everything out.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I say.
“Try me,” he challenges. He’s pissing me off.
I know why he’s doing this. He’s trying to get a reaction out of me. He knows when I’m angry but just because he can feel the anger, not because I’m snapping at him. Burke thinks that if I finally let at least one emotion out of my body, I’ll be better. He can’t understand that this is the new me.
“Let’s try this exercise another day.”
He shakes his head.
Out of everyone, I think Burke and Teddy are the ones who are concerned the most, or they’re just the most stubborn of the family. Probably both.
“It’ll get better,” he says reassuringly. “In a few months, you’ll find someone else to fall in love with. You just have to move away from the quicksand. You’re burying yourself alive.”
“Got it. Move on.” I shrug and use my most cynical voice. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re right. I’m going to do it. In just a few months, I’ll be perfectly fine. I’m glad you said that in front of my wife’s grave.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
I shake my head and pivot, walking toward the car. “I know. I know.”
It’s pointless to tell him that love doesn’t happen twice. But was it even love? I shut up because I don’t want to discuss this with him or anyone else. I want to avoid the guilt. It’s easier to ignore it. This is what the St. Jameses do best. We pretend everything is perfect, and if it isn’t, we make it perfect. We learned from our parents, who pretended to have a good marriage.
Nothing in life is flawless. Everything is messy and chaotic. Maybe that’s exactly why I want to keep to myself. I don’t want anyone trying to fix the disarray caused by Callie. I’m not even sure if it was by her arrival into my life or by the way she left. I no longer want to be the poor widower who can’t put his life back together. However, I also don’t want anyone else trying to put together the shattered pieces of my life.
How am I supposed to live?
Chapter Four
Autumn
“I’m not cut out for this.”
Miranda, my best friend, gives me a curious look. “This?”
“Life. Love…” Motherhood. I don’t say the last one out loud.
Being a mother is hard. Trying to do it while working two jobs—well, one now since I got fired a week ago from one—going to school and surviving a fire is almost impossible. I’m pretty sure that life will be better in the jungle than in the city. At least I’d know what to watch out for.
Miranda hands me a cup of tea. My brother drove me to her place after the paramedics checked us to ensure we were okay. We were.
We are.
As I explained earlier to the police, we left the building as soon as we heard the fire alarm. I’m thankful that Matilda and I lived on the first floor of the apartment complex. We were able to get out of our place before the flames consumed the building. No one wa
s hurt, but we lost our home and our belongings.
“What can I do for you?”
I sigh. “I need a new job, a new apartment. Maybe a new mother.”
“What happened with your mom?”
“She’s pressuring me to send Matilda to a private school. She made a lot of sacrifices to do it for Aiden and me, so I should do the same. Someone needs to tell her that she was married and her husband was loaded at the time. There weren’t any sacrifices.”
“You mean your dad.”
“Yep, the sperm donor.”
“Why don’t you tell her?”
I scoff. “It’d be like opening Pandora’s box. I don’t want to be the one reminding her about Dad’s vacation in prison. My life feels like it’s cursed. Maybe I’m paying for my father’s embezzlement.”
Miranda rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Let me be ridiculous for at least another ten minutes. Until my brother is back with Matilda. Then, I’ll need to pretend everything is fine.” I glance at her before taking a sip of my warm tea. I should be drinking tequila. Before I ask for some hard liquor, I ask, “How are things with my brother?”
It’s been a year since I suggested he make a move or lose Miranda. It took him a couple of months to comply, but I can say that my matchmaking was a success. They’ve been together ever since. From the look on my best friend’s face, I can say that they’re happy.
“That good, huh?”
She gives me a shoulder shrug. “I’d tell you more, but you keep saying, ‘Ew, he’s my brother, Miranda!’”
“I want to know if your relationship is working, not how good he is in bed.”
She licks her lips, giving me a conspiratorial look. “He is really good.”
“Stop. I’d rather stick a finger in my ear than listen to that.”
She laughs.
“One day, you’re going to meet someone,” she says reassuringly. “Someone nice who’ll love your five-year-old monster as much as you do. You’re going to marry him and have more children. You’ll live happily ever after. This, what’s happening today, is just a casualty of life. It’s a stage, and you’ll get past it soon.”
“Getting fired because a coworker backstabbed me, being evicted because my apartment building is burnt to a crisp, and losing most of my belongings is a stage?” I glare at her. “Sure, let’s call this just a fucking stage.”
“I’m just saying it’ll get better.”
She’s right. In a year or so, this will look like a simple incident. At least Matilda and I are safe and alive. That’s what matters, isn’t it?
So what if I lost her baby pictures, my furniture, and our clothes? Does it matter that the only pictures I have of her and Pax are gone? No. We’re safe. We’ll be fine.
It’s going to take us a little time to rebuild, but I can do it. I’m an expert when it comes to reconstructing my life. I was fourteen when Dad landed in jail because of a big trading-embezzlement scandal. He’s still doing time. Five more years, and he’ll be out.
Mom might complain about Matilda not going to a private school, but that’s a lot better than hanging out with a bunch of wealthy kids who hate you because your father stole money from their parents. I curse the day when the school owner granted me a scholarship to finish my classes. Going to a public school where no one knew me and my father didn’t owe them anything would’ve been better.
“You’re right. There are other jobs, other apartment complexes, and I need a new wardrobe.”
“That’s the spirit. In the meantime, you can stay at my place.” She gives me a devious smile. “You can use my bedroom. Matilda can stay in the guest room, and I…”
I laugh. “You’re going to use me as an excuse to stay with my brother?”
“I don’t need an excuse. I was going to say I have extra time to play with Mr. Wick.”
I stare at her with a warning look. “God, I don’t want to know what that means.”
“Your brother is Mr. Wickerton. Mr. Wick is—”
I cover my ears. “La-la-la-la-la.”
She bursts into laughter. I smile because even when the future doesn’t look promising, I have my family and my best friend by my side. Matilda and I will be fine.
Six months after the fire, I finally have enough money to afford the deposit, first month’s rent, and furniture for a new apartment. After living in the city for six months, I decided to stay in Seattle. The commute to Silver Lake is too long. Also, the school district is one of the best in the state. Matilda has already made some friends in her school, and I don’t want her to go through more changes.
As if she’s reading my thoughts, she suddenly asks, “Are we going to move again?”
“I don’t think so,” I answer while I’m building her bed.
I regret the moment when I clicked on the beautiful princess bunk bed with a castle-like desk at the bottom. It’s gorgeous but a pain to put together. Who knew it was a build-it-yourself project? Not me.
Where is Aiden when I need him? Oh, right, he’s in the Bahamas with Miranda celebrating some anniversary. Those two use anything and everything as an excuse to go on vacation.
“We just moved, sweetie. It’s too soon to be thinking about that.”
She nods, hugging her pink teddy bear. The only stuffy that we were able to save from the fire. I take her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. They say children are resilient, but this one needs a break. I wish I could offer her more stability. I wish I could promise her that this is our permanent place. I can’t.
“Hopefully, we won’t move for several years.”
As much as I want to promise my child that this is our permanent home, there’s no such thing as permanent when you’re leasing a place. What if the owner decides to increase the rent so much I can’t afford it? What if I finish my degree and I have to move to another state?
There are so many variables, but I don’t explain it that way. All I want is for her to feel safe and loved. These are the days when I wish Pax was around. I close my eyes, trying to call him. I want him to give me a little more strength. If he were here, he’d know how to put together the bed. And maybe I don’t need him to do anything other than hold me for five minutes and assure me everything will be fine.
Matilda reaches out for my hand. “It’s going to be okay, Mommy.”
I smile at her. “I know, and remember, I’m the mom.”
“Sure,” she says, laughing out loud.
This is what I live for, her laughs and her wit. As long as she’s happy, my life is complete.
Chapter Five
Zach
It’s been two years since Callie died. I changed my life radically. I split my time between the new coffee shops, Archer’s Eat Good restaurants—we’ve opened five of them since we started the one in Boston—and dedicating my life to helping those who are in need. Teddy calls this a penance. She thinks I’m trying to make up for something.
At this point, I let my family think whatever the fuck they want. I don’t waste my time convincing them that they’re wrong.
My philosophy is not to waste time or energy on mundane discussions.
I’m still close to my family. I just ignore their lectures. Burke and I are still tight though not as much as when we were younger. Even though we didn’t go to the same college, we both moved to Boston. When we were younger, we partied a lot, but we haven’t done it in years. I stopped when Burke moved back to Seattle, leaving me behind in Boston.
Even when he swore he wasn’t attached to our family, he was the first one heading back home. While he set up a communication and consulting company with Seth, I started Café Fusion.
My twin and I couldn’t be more different, yet I’m living with him. Again. At least until I finish setting up the three coffee shops I’ve planned for the Seattle area. Two of them are going to be in Kingston’s organic food store, Earth Field Market. My eldest brother, who was against my friendship with Eros Brassard, is now partnering with him.
Eros is the one who suggested adding Café Fusion to the grocery stores.
Since I plan on staying in Seattle for at least a year, I should start looking for a place. Burke’s house is big enough for the two of us, but he likes to invite over his one-night stands. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give a fuck. However, the walls in his house are thin. Too thin. Last night, I couldn’t sleep with all the noise he and his new friend were making. Am I jealous of him? Partially. I haven’t had sex since Callie died.
As I’m preparing the coffee, a leggy woman with long honey-colored hair cascading over her bare shoulders waltzes toward me.
“Hey, handsome, I thought you left me.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Sobriety gives you amnesia?”
“Alcohol would be the one that makes you forget, and when you’re sober, you can remember what happened—” I shake my head.
Fuck, I sound so lame.
“Never mind. Who are you?”
She comes closer to me and sets her hands on my chest. She licks her lips and says, “Honey, I can remind you who I am right now.”
I grab her hands gently and move her away from me. “You’re confusing me with my twin brother.”
“Twins?”
“Yes. My brother has already left for work. Would you like some coffee…?” Your clothes?
I’m not a prude, but this woman slept with my brother. Burke and I have one rule, we never sleep with the same woman. Never. Also, I took a hundred-year celibacy vow. Well, it’s either going to last a hundred years or until I die, whichever happens first.
“No, I…I guess I’m leaving. Do you have a pen and paper so I can leave him my number?”
I pretend to look around and shake my head.
“Seriously, you don’t have a pen?”
I shrug. “This isn’t my house, so I wouldn’t know where to look.”
It’s not a lie. This is Burke’s place. The fact that I’ve been staying here for three months, paying the utilities and buying groceries, doesn’t make me the owner, right? I have to talk to my brother. He needs to grow up and stop playing the field.
Until Next Time Page 3