Atlas pulled the plate out of her reach. “Jeez Louise, you just went as green as the Caesar salad. Are you all right?”
“I think it’s just the stress of all of this, you know?”
“Sure.” Atlas set the tray down on the floor, out of her line of sight and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not sure if we made this clear to you, but we want you to be happy. And healthy. And to feel good while you're here. It’s not a spa, but if you need something or want something, let one of us know and we’ll try and make it happen for you, okay? You want somebody to play ping pong with you? I’m there. You need a jogging partner, I'm there. You want to beat somebody at cards? Call up Swift. Sequ—One of us will make you whatever you want in the kitchen. You can rent movies and buy stuff on Amazon, it’s your life, you know?”
To Naomi’s surprise, her tears turned on like a faucet. This had been happening since she'd gotten pregnant. Naomi had always, her whole life, been an unabashed ugly crier. Loud and intense. But these days, her tears simply flowed down her cheeks without warning and without prompting.
“Ah, jeez,” Atlas said, pulling her into his chest and giving her a real good squeeze. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she insisted. She was very relieved that Atlas smelled nothing like his brother. She could vividly remember Sequence’s clean sheets/warm copper smell and she did not want to smell it right now. She gave Atlas a reassuring squeeze and pulled back from him.
He looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment. “Is this—Should I…Do I need to apologize for my dumbass brother?”
Naomi laughed through her tears. “Absolutely not. It is what it is. We’re all grown-ups here.”
Atlas nodded, his eyes on her face for a long second, as if he could see right through her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You can take that away.” Naomi said. “And maybe bring me something that won’t make me wanna vom. Oatmeal? Soup? Rice?”
“You got it. Back in a jif.”
He was actually back in about half an hour, interrupting Naomi while she dozed in front of her laptop and an episode of The Great British Baking Show.
“For my lady,” he said, bowing in front of her and holding up a tray.
Naomi couldn’t help but laugh, both at Atlas and at the tray of food he presented her. It was like Sequence refused to serve her bland food.
There was a bowl of steaming oatmeal and about fifteen little bowls surrounding it. Brown sugar, crushed nuts, maple syrup, yogurt, dried fruit, chocolate chips, peanut butter, etc. Anything and everything someone would ever want to put on their oatmeal. “Hot sauce?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Who puts hot sauce on oatmeal?”
“I think he was kind of thinking along the lines of grits with that one,” Atlas said, handing the tray over. He bent down and picked up a second tray that he’d carried up as well. “There’s also this.”
“Wowzers.”
Atlas held a second tray with every drink imaginable on it. Milk, juice, hot tea, iced tea, water, seltzer, chocolate milk, a small pot of coffee, soda, a can of beer, you name it.
Naomi selected the seltzer and the hot pot of water with a chamomile tea. She set all of her food on her desk. She turned from Atlas and then paused. “Wanna sit with me while I eat?”
***
Sequence was just finishing cleaning the kitchen when Atlas came back with the two trays. “What took you so long?”
“She wanted company while she ate.”
Sequence frowned at the nearly full trays that Atlas set down on the counter.
“Or didn’t eat.”
She’d eaten maybe a quarter of the oatmeal, and from what he could tell, she’d eaten it plain.
Atlas shrugged. “She’s not feeling all that well right now. She’s stressed.”
About Bastone? About him? Sequence wasn’t even sure he wanted the answer to that one. He had his first appointment with Dr. Waters the next morning. His stomach flipped. Maybe he should just word vomit on her and tell her absolutely everything about himself. Every mistake he ever made. Every bad thing that ever happened. Then she could just sift through the information and try to find the way to fix him.
Yeah. Right. Like he was just going to suddenly transform into a completely different person. Because that happened to people all the time.
He rolled his eyes at himself.
“She’s stressed,” Sequence said, starting to put away all the stuff on Naomi’s trays. “But is she okay?”
Atlas shrugged, snagging the can of beer off the tray before Sequence could put it away. “She’s okay. She seems like a really resilient person. I really like her. Not sure I’ve ever met anyone like her before.”
Sequence snorted. That was for damn sure.
Atlas tapped the top of the can of beer before he cracked it. It was a familiar gesture, something that people from the Midwest often did. Sequence wasn’t sure why, but it was something they all did.
“I wish you’d tell me what happened with her,” Atlas eventually said.
Sequence paused for a minute with his hands over the dishes. “I’m not even sure what happened.”
“It’s not because I want the details, Seek. I don’t care about what happened. The important part of what I just said is the part where you tell me. The part where you talk to me.”
Sequence looked directly into his brother’s face in surprise. Atlas was so easy going and accepting, always had been. It hadn’t occurred to Sequence that his reticence to speak would have bothered his brother. He figured that Atlas just accepted it the way it was. He cleared his throat. “You want me to talk more.”
“I don’t want you to be different than who you are, if that’s what you’re asking. But Seek, I’m your brother. I’m going to love you regardless of what you say to me. It’s like, not an option. It’s just a fact. I know that Dad fucked you up just like he fucked me up. I know we had a shitty childhood and that talking about it means thinking about it, and who the hell wants to do that? I also know that you have some big stinking secret that you’ll never tell me. And that whatever it is makes you think you’re a bad person. But newsflash, broski, I don’t care what you did. You murder someone? Don’t care. You destroyed a National Monument? Couldn’t give a shit. All I know is that you disappeared the night of prom. The next day you show up bruised to all hell and barely speaking. And you know what? I don’t care what happened. All I care about is you. And whether or not you make room in your sad little life for your brother to love you. Okay?”
Atlas stood up, strode around the counter, grabbed Sequence in a rib-cracking hug, and in a perfectly Atlas way, kissed him on the cheek. Then he swiped his beer off the counter and strode out of the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Naomi had been in the bunker for five days and she’d yet to meet the other client who was being housed there. She hadn’t moved around the bunker much and she was starting to get restless. They all stressed to her that this was her home now and she could do anything she wanted, but she couldn’t help but feel like this was Sequence’s space more than it was hers. And his actions had made it quite clear that he didn’t want to interact with her, so she was trying to gift him a wide berth.
On the morning of the sixth day though, she could do no more yoga in her room. Her doctor had recommended light cardio for her health and for the baby’s. And she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Naomi opened the door to her room in her workout gear. The leggings were tight but the shirt was quite roomy.
“Oh. Hi!” Naomi said as she almost ran into Swift in the hallway. She’d seen on the schedule that he was on duty for her right now.
“Hello there.”
“I was thinking I’d go walk on the treadmill downstairs?”
“Sounds good, actually, do you mind company? I could use a jog.”
“Perfect!” Naomi studied Swift as they walked downstairs together. She knew that this was the first lockdown they’d had since he’d gott
en together with Elena. Which meant that this was the first time that he and Elena were separated in this manner. Swift couldn’t leave the bunker while he was on lockdown with Naomi. And Elena couldn’t enter. Maybe it was Naomi’s imagination, but she thought that Swift seemed a little glum, a little drawn.
“Missing your lady?”
“Always,” Swift admitted with a little self-deprecating twist of his mouth. “We’re not used to being apart.”
“How did you meet again?”
Swift jumped into the whole story, explaining how much of a crush he’d had on her in high school and all the dramatic things that had happened in the last year to bring them together again.
He was in such good shape that he was able to talk and jog on the treadmill next to her while she briskly walked, totally out of breath.
Swift decided that he really, really liked Naomi. She was so kind and so smiley. She laughed and gasped and hemmed and hawed over every part of his story about Elena. He liked talking to her.
Both of their heads whipped up when Atlas, talking loudly to someone over his shoulder, threw open the door to the gym. He came to a screeching halt in the doorway, then backed out, obviously shooing Sequence away once he realized that Naomi was in the room.
Atlas ducked back in, a minute later, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry about that.”
It was then that something clicked into place for Naomi. She went back over the last few days, piecing through the information presented to her. She looked back and forth between Atlas and Swift.
“Wait, a second. Are you guys keeping me away from Sequence or are you keeping him away from me?”
Atlas blinked and tipped his head to one side, a suspicious look on his face. He glanced at Swift. “I feel like this is a trick question.”
“It’s a regular question.”
“Okay…” Atlas paused heavily.
Swift turned off his treadmill and then Naomi’s, handing her a towel and a bottle of water. “Naomi, we’re not keeping him from you. We’re just… doing what you asked.”
“What I asked?” Naomi put her hands on her hips, her world tipping just a bit. “I never asked you all to keep Sequence away from me.”
The men looked at one another again. Atlas cut through the silence.
“Rook said that you agreed to come back to our firm only because he said Sequence would stay away from you.”
“Right. But—” Naomi cut off and stood up, twisting the top off the bottle and taking a huge gulp of water. “But I thought that was because he didn’t want to see me.”
“What?” Atlas laughed, shaking his head. “No way. I’m pretty sure he’s been dying to see you. I know for a fact he’s been trying to catch a glimpse of you when no one will know. He likes your haircut by the way.”
“What?” Naomi asked, and was truly shocked that the decibel of her voice didn’t crack the glass she was holding. She sheepishly removed the hand she’d flung to her hair, as if to check it was still in place. “Hold the phone. You mean to tell me that you’ve been keeping Sequence away on my account?”
Atlas opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it and closed it. He looked to Swift, but received no more help than a simple shrug.
“Pause,” Atlas finally said. “We need Rook for this conversation.”
Atlas came forward and grabbed Naomi by the hand. He dragged her out of the gym and down the hallway toward Rook’s office, leaving Swift in the dust.
They burst in and caught Rook in the middle of a phone call. He frowned at them and held up one finger. “Hold on, Henry. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Rook ended the call and narrowed his eyes at them. “Everything all right?”
Atlas plopped down into one of the chairs in front of Rook’s desk and Naomi followed suit. “You have to explain this Sequence thing to her. She’s confused, I’m confused, we’re all confused. It’s a party.”
Rook raised a critical eyebrow at Atlas, who didn’t seem to mind in the least. Rook turned to Naomi. “You have questions, Naomi?”
“Yeah. Um. Atlas made it sound like you’ve been keeping Sequence away from me? Because you think that’s what I’d want?”
Rook held still for a minute but eventually nodded. “That… was what we thought was best.”
“For me?”
“For the situation.”
“Right.” Naomi bit her lip. “Look, it’s all good vibes on this side of the desk. You don’t need to change protocols or limit his access to parts of this building or whatever. I don’t care. I can see him or not. It won’t be a big deal. I know that Sequence is a professional person. I know that my security will come first no matter what. So in the end, I’m not worried about it.”
“Oh.” Rook’s brow lowered, shadowing his eyes. “All right.”
“All right,” Naomi repeated. “I’m gonna go jump in the shower.” She skedaddled out of there fast enough that neither of the men had time to stop her. And for that she was grateful. That was not a conversation she wanted to continue on.
***
There was no reason to be nervous. This was his job, his workplace, and most importantly, his kitchen. Just because it was the first time he was going to see Naomi since they’d slept together didn’t mean that his hands needed to be so damn sweaty before he walked into his own damn kitchen.
He extended his hand to push through the swinging door when he heard her laugh and paused. Listening to that sound felt painfully good. He forced himself to keep moving.
“Morning,” he said to the room as a whole as he walked over to the fridge and opened it up.
The chatter of the people behind him cut off immediately and he could feel many sets of eyes on his back.
“Omelettes?” he asked without turning around, shifting things around in the fridge to see what supplies they had.
“Sounds great,” Geo said.
“Yup,” said Swift.
“Perf,” said Atlas.
Naomi was silent. Sequence straightened up and turned around, figuring he couldn’t be a coward any longer. She was a bright spot on the other side of the room. Her ruby hair shimmered, framing that lovely face and her outfit was juicy with color.
“None for me, thanks,” she said quietly.
“Hi, Naomi.”
“Hi, Sequence,” she replied hesitantly. And then slowly she gifted him with a bright, pearly smile.
“Oatmeal, then?” He offered it because apparently she was obsessed with oatmeal these days.
She blanched at the mention of it though. “Um. I think I’m just gonna do some cereal.”
Sequence frowned as she came around the counter, a cup of tea in hand, and started looking through the cabinets. She surfaced with cheerios. Plain ones. Which she put into a bowl with a spoon and sat back down. Without adding milk.
If the woman wanted to eat dry cereal, that was not his problem. But it kept nagging at him. What was wrong with her? Had she developed a stomach ulcer? Was she fighting off a bug? Had she seen a doctor?
Trying to put it from his mind, Sequence started to make everyone omelettes the way he knew they liked them.
It was enough to just be in the same room as her. He didn’t need to push it right now. He didn’t need to push her. Or himself. That’s what Dr. Waters had said at least. His very first interaction with her in his therapy session had been pretty dang kooky. The woman was strange, to say the least. With her spiky blonde hair and wacky clothes and total non-sequiturs. But she’d stressed to Sequence that interactions like ones he might have with Naomi were better done slowly, with little pressure and a lot of calm.
He could roll with that.
So, he made omelettes and listened to the chatter of the group behind him, trying to ignore the fact that every time Naomi chimed in, his stomach clenched down like a fist.
***
Three careful, polite days later, Sequence was sitting in the game room with Moreau Davy when Swift popped his head in.
“Moreau, are you cool with Nao
mi coming in here?”
Moreau furrowed his brow. “Of course. It’s her bunker too.”
They hadn’t intentionally been keeping their two clients apart, but knowing Moreau’s penchant for solitude, specifically from fans, they’d encouraged them to stay separate.
Sequence straightened. Apparently that was shot to hell today and Naomi was about to find out that she was rooming with a very famous movie star.
Naomi and Swift came into the game room and she looked around before her eyes settled on Moreau. She went ash white and immediately turned around and fled the room.
Moreau, who was reading a newspaper with his foot crossed over his knee, didn’t appear to notice. Sequence and Swift, on the other hand, exchanged confused eye contact.
Before he could think twice, Sequence was on his feet and striding out into the hallway after Naomi.
He found her braced against the wall taking deep breaths through her nose and exhaling loudly through her mouth.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, careful to keep a few feet in between them.
“That. Was. Moreau. Davy,” she gasped between deep breaths.
“Right. Why are you yoga breathing?”
She looked at him like he was a total moron. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe because the most beautiful man on earth is reading a newspaper ten feet away from me.”
Sequence scowled. Obviously people found Moreau to be desirable, or else he wouldn’t be the ridiculously famous multi-millionaire that he was. But hearing Naomi call him the most beautiful man on earth irritated Sequence. “He’s just a guy.”
“No, he’s not!” she hissed. “He’s gorgeous. And talented. And so hot I wanna die. Plus he’s altruistic! Did you know that earlier this year he founded a wildlife preserve in Canada?”
“Of course I know that,” Sequence growled. “Swift’s girlfriend was the one who talked him into it. It was way more Elena’s idea than Moreau’s.”
He couldn’t quite hold back the low growl in his throat as Naomi ducked around Sequence to peek into the room. She spun away, her cheeks pink, with her hands clasped in front of her heart. “Oh my god, he’s changed his hair since his last movie.”
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