“The team was fascinated, the presentation was professional, and I’m proud of you.” I don’t know why I say it, but I do. When our dad passed the company on to me, Aaron was anything but supportive. He didn’t want the company, but he also didn’t want me to have it. When I asked him to run the PR division, he all but promised to make my life a living hell…and he did, personally. He also decided to use his middle name as his last name professionally to create separation between the two of us. That’s where Maxwell came from. Aaron Maxwell McPherson is known only as Aaron Maxwell in the industry.
I always gave Aaron full rein of the public relations department. I knew if things got bad, it was a department I’d cut from the company and sever ties with Aaron for good. I didn’t count on him growing the department from five employees to over sixty, while he also manages hundreds of clients. He’s proven he’s more than capable of running the PR end of this business, and now I fear he’ll leave me and open his own business, taking his clients with him.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice contemplative. I think he’s equally as stunned by my words. He slides his laptop into his messenger bag, stands up, and clears his throat. “Do you want to grab a drink after work?”
I had planned to take Gracie to dinner, but a drink with Aaron first should be fine. “Sure. There’s a pub right around the corner. Five o’clock work?”
He smiles at me. A genuine smile I haven’t seen from him in years. “Sounds great.”
* * *
I forget how quickly it turns dark in the fall, and I glance at the corner of my computer screen, where it tells me it’s almost half past four. Gracie has been on her phone or in meetings all day. I shoot her an instant message on our company instant messaging system and it takes her nearly fifteen minutes to respond.
Me: Grabbing a drink with Aaron at five. Meet you back at the hotel for dinner by seven.
Gracie: I didn’t agree to dinner.
This woman drives me mad. But she’s right. I didn’t ask her; I told her. It’s the push and pull that works with us. I tell her, she pushes back. Something about this dynamic works and drives me insane at the same time.
Me: See you at seven. Dress casually.
There’s about a minute in between my last instant message and the one that just pops up on my screen.
Gracie: Be nice to him.
Why would she say that? Maybe because I wanted to kill him yesterday.
Me: No promises.
She doesn’t respond after that, but I see her on her phone when I leave the office with Aaron at five. She’s one of the hardest workers here, proving time and again her dedication to her clients and AM Global. I make a mental note to get her salary history from HR, along with everyone else in the office, to assess the last time there were salary increases and what their last annual review reflected.
Kevin Williams only hired the best and I know he treated his staff like family, so I’m sure he took care of them, but they’re my responsibility now and if I want AM Global to be successful, I need to treat these employees like they are the best, and that includes their salary.
“Stop being creepy,” Aaron whispers as he nudges me.
“I’m not being creepy.”
“You’re staring at her.”
“I am not.” I aggressively hit the down button on the elevator six or seven times in annoyance.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Aaron notes as the elevator doors slide open and we shoulder our way in.
“Like what?”
“So fucking pussy-whipped.” He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath.
Aaron and I used to jab at each other like this all the time. We were always joking around and trying to get under each other’s skin. Everything between us changed after Melissa, and rightfully so. I could barely stomach looking at him, so it’s uncomfortably strange to see us falling back into our old habits with so much still left unresolved between us.
We exit the elevator and Cloyd offers me a parting wave. “Goodnight, Mr. McPherson,” he calls with his deep voice.
“Night, Cloyd,” I offer back as we push our way through the glass doors and out onto the bustling Manhattan streets.
The rain has stopped, but it’s humid and grey. Reminds me of the Bay area. The sidewalks have puddles that we dodge along with the other New Yorkers, who look like they’re playing hopscotch through Midtown Manhattan.
“So, where’s this pub?” Aaron asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Just around the corner.” I point to the street corner that we’re approaching. “Little Irish pub with amazing Guinness,” I tell him, damn well knowing he hates dark beer.
“Sounds great,” he says without the sarcasm I expected.
I shake my head, wondering when Aaron changed so much.
As we step inside the pub, the hostess greets us and seats us in a small booth in the back corner. Our server arrives and Aaron orders us two pints of Guinness and a warm pretzel.
“I’m hungry.” He rubs his stomach and smiles.
“I’ve only got an hour and a half,” I tell him. “I have dinner plans with Gracie.”
He nods his head knowingly. “She told me.”
My eyes narrow angrily. “She told you?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, we grabbed a coffee this afternoon.”
Big. Fucking. Deal. My heart is thumping with rage. “What?”
“Relax,” he gripes. “I asked her to go get a coffee so I could apologize for yesterday.”
I’m going to kill him. My jaw tightens, my fists clenching. Angry heat crawls up my neck.
He rolls his eyes like he doesn’t think I’ll do it. Not here anyway. Maybe he’s right. “Look. I felt bad for saying some of the things I said, and I know she heard them.”
I’m trying to control my breathing as I think back to yesterday’s fiasco in my office.
“She’s a nice girl and I shouldn’t have said those things.” He shrugs.
“Then why did you?” I barely get out through gritted teeth.
“To get at you.”
Not like I didn’t know that. At least he has the decency to look sheepish.
“Do you feel better?” I reach for the pint of beer just as our server arrives with it. I manage to choke down a large swallow, allowing the thick liquid to burn against my dry throat.
“Actually, I don’t,” he says, also taking a drink of his beer. “For all intents and purposes, I came here to make things right with you, but when I saw your reaction to me dancing with Gracie, everything that happened between us came rushing back.”
I stare at him and clench my jaw. Despite the sincerity in his eyes, I just don’t know that I believe him.
“You always had everything,” he starts. “You had the girl, the grades, all of Mom and Dad’s attention, and then finally, you got Dad’s company. I’ve always been second best to you, Andrew.” He calls me by my full name. “When that shit went down with Melissa, it wasn’t because I wanted her.” He clears his throat, his neck turning red with shame. “I wanted to hurt you.”
“Mission accomplished,” I grind out.
He sighs and runs his finger around the rim of his pint glass. “And when I did, it was the worst fucking feeling in the world.” His voice breaks on that admission. “You were the one person I always respected and I betrayed you in the worst possible way because I was angry. When I saw how hurt you were, I knew I had the upper hand. I spent years doing anything and everything to piss you off, and all it did was destroy us.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” I spin my own pint glass around in my hand, my stomach turning in disgust as he speaks. I can’t even bring myself to drink my beer.
He shrugs again. “It was time. That’s really why I came to New York. To apologize to you. I’m sorry. Very sorry.”
Everything he’s saying and the way he’s looking at me tells me he’s si
ncere. But these last years can’t just be erased. He betrayed me in the worst possible way. How can I ever fucking trust him again?
I simmer in my thoughts, making him squirm.
“Say something,” he says, and all I can do is shake my head while the last five years play like a slide show through my mind.
“You’re my brother,” I manage to get out before pausing. “The one person I should’ve been able to trust more than anyone.”
He nods, his eyes dropping to the wood table between us. “I know.”
More silence. The laughter and conversations in the bar fill the void between us. “Will you ever forgive me?” he asks, looking at me.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” I manage to say. “I let what you and Melissa did eat away at me for a long time, and I lived in the hate I had for you until one morning I couldn’t do it anymore. I forgave you. I had to, for me.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I just haven’t liked you very much.” I smirk and take a long swallow of beer, suddenly feeling better getting all of that off my chest.
“Rightfully so,” he answers.
“I appreciate your apology,” I finally tell him, and he nods. There’s a look of relief in his eye.
Our server delivers Aaron’s pretzel and a large bowl of melted nacho cheese. This was Aaron’s favorite snack when we were growing up, one he only got a handful of times at ballgames or at the movies. He slides the plate closer to me and offers me some first.
I shake my head. “No thanks, not really hungry.”
“Same.” He frowns.
I think about it and sigh heavily. “I assume this is why Gracie told me to be nice to you.” I let out a small laugh.
“She did?” His brows twist in confusion.
“Mmmhmm. How’d she take the apology?” I ask, feeling a fraction more at ease now.
“She’s a spirited one.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, she is.” I shake my head.
“She accepted the apology. Told me if I ever hurt you again, she’ll rip my balls off.” He shudders.
I nearly choke on my beer. “She said that?”
“Yep. And said she wasn’t apologizing for slapping me or kneeing me in the nuts. That it was deserved and you don’t apologize for things that are deserved.”
We both laugh at that, the mood lightening, and Aaron finally takes a piece of his pretzel, dunking it in the cheese.
“I like her,” he says with a shrug. “She’s good for you.”
She is good for me. “I love her,” I respond. This is the happiest I’ve felt in five years. Mending fences with my brother and falling in love with Gracie all in one week. But I have to add, “And if you touch her again, I’ll be the one cutting your balls off.”
Sixteen
“So were you going to tell me you had coffee with my brother?” Drew asks, raising his eyebrows as he opens the door to the pizzeria where I assume we’re having dinner.
I shrug. “Were you nice to him?”
“As nice as I could be,” he says with a sly grin. “Table for two,” he tells the hostess.
The pizzeria is around the corner from Drew’s new condo. The atmosphere is moody and dark. Red candles sit in the center of the tables and just a few lighting fixtures cast a dim light throughout the small space.
After we’re seated, Drew promptly orders a bottle of white wine and fried mozzarella cheese for an appetizer.
“So back to the question at hand,” I say. “Were you nice?”
“We worked through some shit today,” he says, leaning back in his chair, and I can tell he looks more relaxed than he ever has.
I smile. “Good. Aaron took me for coffee to apologize for yesterday.”
He returns my smile, softly running his hand over where mine rests on the table. “I know.”
The server brings an ice bucket with our bottle of wine and offers me a sip to taste. Pinot Grigio is my favorite. It’s chilled, crisp, and perfect. After pouring two glasses, she leaves quickly.
“I accepted his apology,” I tell Drew.
“As did I.” He releases a contented breath. Something inside me flutters and makes my heart happy. “But don’t get too excited that everything will magically be better. He’s Aaron. He’s unpredictable, stubborn, and moody.”
“Sounds exactly like his brother,” I tease, pulling the large wine glass to my lips to hide my smirk.
Drew shakes his head and laughs at me. Our appetizer arrives and Drew orders a pizza for us to share.
“I’ll tell you more about Aaron later,” he starts, “but I have something else I want to talk to you about first.” His tone turns more serious and my stomach suddenly drops. Obviously, my face must also convey my concern because his hand tightens over mine. “It’s good, I promise.”
I let out a long breath and take another drink of wine to calm my fraying nerves. The cool liquid warms my belly and I offer Drew a stiff smile.
“Tomorrow the furniture is being moved into the condo. I’d like to hire some movers to bring your things to the condo at the same time.”
I narrow my eyes at him and stare at him for a long moment. “I’m not moving in with you.” What in the hell is he thinking?
He sighs loudly. “I thought you’d say that.”
“I mean it. I have my apartment in Brooklyn. I like it. It suits me.” It’s the first place I’ve ever lived on my own, and while it’s not in the nicest neighborhood in New York City, it’s mine.
He drags in a long, patient breath. “And you agreed to stay with me five nights a week. Why can’t you just move your stuff in, and if you ever decide to stay at your apartment, you’ll bring a change of clothes. Just seems easier.”
I purse my lips and blow an exaggerated puff of air out through them. “I said I’d stay with you, not move in with you.” Is he crazy? Things have been fast—and wonderful—but he can’t seriously think I’m moving in with him already.
“Same thing.” He smiles softly at me, and I know he’s playing the game. Push and push until I’m exhausted and can’t refuse him. He’s sneaky, but I see right through him.
“Totally different,” I tell him, though watching the hope drain from his eyes makes me want to change my mind.
“Drew—” I start before he cuts me off.
“I know this is fast,” he looks away and takes a deep breath, “and scary. It is for me too. But it’s just right. Never have I fallen so fast and so hard for someone and just known this is how it’s supposed to be.” I see the vulnerability in his eyes as he says this and my heart swells. “Please, Gracie. Waking up this morning and not having you there drove me crazy.”
“Then it sounds like you need a therapist.” I’m being sarcastic, but his eyes widen and he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t need a therapist, Gracie. I need you. I need to know you’re going to be at our house when I wake up in the morning, or when I come home from work late, or on the weekends. I want you to cook in that kitchen—”
I cut him off. “You do not want me to cook anything, trust me.”
He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I want you there with me. I understand your need for space, and I’ll give you space when you need it, but I about lose it whenever I know you’re in Brooklyn and I’m in Manhattan.”
“I can take care of myself,” I interject.
“I know you can, but maybe I want to take care of you.” He pauses and gives my hand another squeeze. “Please.” The man is damn near begging and I swear to God he’s breaking me down.
I let out a longsuffering sigh. “I don’t even have anything to move. You saw my closet; it’s literally twenty-four inches wide. I have like seven shirts, a dress, and some jeans.”
One side of his mouth quirks up, like he was hoping I’d say exactly that. “Then let me help you stock the closet at our house.”
“You keep saying our house, like it’s ours. It’s yours, Drew,” I correct him.
“It’s ours, Gracie. I saw the way your eyes lit
up in that kitchen. I saw the way you ran your hand over the countertops, the way you twirled around in the rain on that terrace. That place is ours. I get it, I see your reservations. We’ve only known each other a week. It sounds fucking insane. I know, Gracie, but…I’m ready for this. Already. I can’t see myself in that place without you.”
I look at our intertwined hands and my heart flutters in my chest. How did this man capture my heart in one week? He acts like my flaws are cute quirks, treats my baggage like it’s his own. His tenderness has broken my walls and cut through the deep spaces in my heart I didn’t even know I had.
“And I know you want to keep your apartment, Gracie—”
My jaw tightens, my stubbornness and independence rearing their ugly heads. “Don’t tell me to give it up. I won’t.”
He holds up his hands. “I’ve been thinking about this but was hesitant to share it with you. Just hear me out. If you lived with me and didn’t have the apartment, your rent money could go toward the debt you’re working to pay. You could double your payments and maybe get ahead for the first time. It’s a win-win on all fronts.”
It’s a good argument, and I chew on it for a moment, but I just can’t. “No. That place is the only thing that I’ve accomplished on my own and I’m so proud of that—”
“As you should be,” he interrupts. “But are you going to put your pride before your finances?” He raises an eyebrow at me. As much as I want to continue arguing with him, it’s a lost cause, because he’s right. He’s always right.
I hate it.
I love it.
And…I love him. I do. I can tell myself over and over again that I don’t, but I do.
“My lease is up in two months. Let me consider it at that time.” I tip my glass toward my lips and finish my glass of wine, then hold out the glass to Drew and he refills it.
“What do I need to do to convince you?” he asks, setting the bottle of wine back in the ice bucket.
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