by Edith DuBois
She frowned, thinking about the past few months. This behavior seemed to be getting worse and worse as time went by, but she didn’t know what to say without hurting his feelings. He would have to tell her eventually. Either that or explode. She hoped he would get brave enough to confront her about it before it came to that, but she also didn’t want to push him into talking about it before he was ready. Maybe he was trying to figure something out in his head before he could talk to her or Grayson about it?
Perhaps that was why he was being so uptight about tonight’s date. Maybe he was finally ready to talk about whatever had been bothering him. She hoped that was it. She didn’t know how much more of his churlishness she could take before she exploded.
“Emilie. Why are you just standing there looking out the window? We should have left fifteen minutes ago, and you’re not even dressed. What are you doing?”
“Gavin, my darling, please do not speak to me that way.” She turned to him and smiled sweetly. “I was just having a private moment. Is that not allowed?”
He ground his teeth and stared at her. Then, ignoring her question, he asked, “Did you call Sherri?”
“Oui.”
He stared at her expectantly.
She stared back.
“Emilie, what did she say?”
“She cannot take the kids. Her shed has been mutilated the same way as our garage door.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. “Damn. What on earth is going on?”
“I am not sure, my love. But I need to get dressed. Why don’t you call your parents? Ask them if they would mind.”
Gavin nodded. “Okay, yes. Go, go, get ready.”
Emilie stood in front of him expectantly. She stared right at him, hoping for a kiss or a sweet smile. Just a tiny moment of warmth.
But he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead his brow furrowed, and he moved past her, already punching the screen of his phone to make a call.
* * * *
“Say bye to Maman and Daddies,” Grayson said, kissing Penny and then handing her to Grandma. Gaston held Gabby’s hand and had already begun waving his free hand with remarkable exuberance at the three retreating forms of his parents. Penny rested her head on her grandmother’s shoulder and sniffled. Unlike Gaston, she didn’t view their departure as grounds to celebrate. He hated leaving her distraught and wished they had time to put her to bed first. Or at least read her a story.
“She will be okay,” Emilie said, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close for a quick kiss.
When he pulled away, he looked into her deep blue eyes, finding them as beautiful as ever. “I know, but it’s still hard to leave her like that.”
Gavin had climbed into the driver’s seat and revved up the engine to their black Lexus RX 450 Hybrid.
“I would suggest we stay here for a cozy evening with the kids and with your parents, but I think Gavin might be on the brink of apoplexy.”
Grayson chuckled, but before he could reply, Gavin rolled down the window. “Let’s go!” he barked.
Grayson shook his head, gave Emilie one more kiss, and then opened the door for her. When all the seat belts were fastened, Gavin backed out of the driveway, a little more quickly than Grayson would have liked, but they were on their way soon enough after one last hasty wave out the window to the kids as they zipped onto the street that would take them toward downtown Male Order.
“Hey, bro,” Grayson said, “is everything all right? You’ve been kind of tense since we got home.”
“I’m not tense.”
“But did anything happen? With the kids? Or maybe something else?”
“Nope.”
“Gaston didn’t give you any trouble when he got home from school? I figured he’d be a terror with all the holiday candy and excitement.”
Gavin kept his attention on the road and didn’t answer while he waited for traffic to clear before making a left.
Finally he said, “No.”
Emilie peeked over her shoulder at him, and he noted the deep-seated concern in her eyes. She put a hand on Gavin’s thigh, indicating to Grayson that she’d take the reins for a moment.
“Sweetie,” she said in a low tone with a bit of chastisement mixed in. “We can tell something is bothering you.”
“I said nothing is bothering me.”
She ran her hand in a soothing manner up and down Gavin’s leg. “You know you can’t hide it from us just like I couldn’t hide something like this from you or from Grayson. That is simply not possible for the three of us.”
They were at a red light, and Gavin inched forward, looking at the empty crossroad in annoyance. “We’re already so late to the restaurant,” he said. “I just want us to get there.” He looked at Emilie for a moment and gave her a small, tight smile.
Grayson resisted the urge to call bullshit on his brother. That was one of the lamest excuses he’d ever heard, but he also didn’t feel like taking this conversation further before they all got some food in their systems. Maybe a romantic dinner and a little ambiance would go a long ways in loosening his recalcitrant, stubborn brother up.
The rest of the drive was pretty silent. Emilie put on one of her favorite French chanteuses, Coeur de Pirate, and sang quietly along until they pulled up in front of valet parking at Tosca Ristorante. As they walked toward the entrance, Emilie wove her arms through his and Gavin’s.
“Despite this evening with the crazy spray paint bandit, I am so happy to be here with my big, strong, sexy men.” She kissed Gavin on the cheek, and then she kissed Grayson on the cheek. “And now I cannot wait to stuff myself full of pasta, cheese, bread—oh their delicious hot bread—white wine, and tiramisu.” She thought for a moment. “And then whatever else I can get mes petites mains on.”
Grayson smiled at the beautiful woman beside him and ran his free hand slowly along the skin of her arm, loving how it immediately erupted in goose bumps, and not caring one bit that the line of people waiting to get into the restaurant could witness the intimate moment between him and his wife.
“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.” Grayson pulled back and held his wife at arm’s length so he could drink in the entire sight of her. She wore a red silk Dior Haute Couture gown. It had once reached the floor, but a few months ago while clearing up some space in her closet, Emilie pulled it out and took it to her most trusted tailor for some alterations. Instead of brushing across the floor, it now only reached mid thigh. It was tight on the bodice but fluffed out for a peplum effect. At least, that was what she’d told him it was called when the skirt part stuck out from the waist part. There were a dozen or so silk buttons that began just under her right breast and traveled the length of the dress. He couldn’t wait to pull those apart one by one a little later on tonight.
The gown was strapless and had a loose section of silk over her chest. Her delicate collarbones were accentuated by the lack of fabric over her shoulders, and again, he found himself anticipating the moment when he could run his tongue along the sharp, delicate cut of bone there.
Her long legs were covered in thick black stockings since there was a definite chill in the air, and she wore a pair of black heels with silk bows on the ankles. He couldn’t remember who the designer was. He hoped Emilie didn’t quiz him later because he had the worst memory for the shoe designers.
“Thank you,” she whispered as his eyes continued to sweep up and down her luscious and perfectly adorned body. In her ears, she wore a pair of simple diamond studs from Tiffany & Co. that he and Gavin had given to her on their one-year anniversary. Her hair had been softly pinned up into a loose bun. He held her heart-achingly beautiful face in his hands for a moment.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, putting his forehead to hers.
“Je t’aime.”
A few moments later, Gavin stood next to them. “Okay, let’s go, you two.”
With a regretful sigh, Grayson pulled away and resumed walking. When
they reached the entrance, the door was opened for them, but it wasn’t wide enough for all three of them to fit through without unlinking their arms. Gavin broke free and walked ahead to give their names to the host.
“Oh la!” Emilie said, almost purring, her eyes wide as she gazed upon the interior of Tosca Ristorante. It was a Male Order tradition that the owners of the restaurant upheld without fail. Each year they would close early on February 13 to begin preparations for the next day. Then on February 14, they would open for a late-lunch or early-dinner crowd with an interior completely transformed. Several tables were removed from the main dining area so that a small space was cleared for dancing. Candles, delicate floral bouquets, and artisan-crafted heated-oil lamps had been skillfully arranged to create an ambiance of elegance and romance.
A string quartet was situated on the outskirts of the dance area on a small raised platform so that the gentle and elegant music could reach the entire room without it being overbearing to those sitting nearby. One couple and one trio were already on the floor swaying to the music.
Gavin had outdone himself, Grayson begrudgingly admitted. Come to think of it, he thought he remembered Gavin saying something about an eighteen-month-long waiting list.
But that couldn’t be right. He frowned, trying to remember what exactly Gavin had said about making reservations at Tosca Ristorante.
Maybe it was something else he should have remembered about reservations and the restaurant? He looked at his brother.
Shit.
Gavin had a dark scowl on his face—a face identical to Grayson’s, which meant he knew what kind of emotions were behind that scowl—and he was looking directly at Grayson.
“Oh, what did you do, my darling. Gavin looks ready to rip you a new asshole.”
Grayson held back a snort of laughter. Hearing Emilie say such vulgar things with her exotic French accent always tickled his funny bone. He couldn’t help it. She just got to him. Every time.
“Don’t you dare make me laugh.”
“Look, he is flexing his left hand, getting warmed up for the rather complicated and, some would say, brutal ass-ripping technique. It has been passed down through an ancient brotherhood known for their overbearing surliness and scowl endurance.”
“Emilie, stop,” Grayson warned, his lips trembling as he fought back laughter. Gavin stalked toward him, not breaking eye contact and not losing his scowl either.
“It is rumored,” Emilie said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “that the ass-ripping knowledge is the most sacred of their kind, and in order for a surly brother to be deserving of this knowledge, he must maintain the same scowl for an entire year.”
“But I am so fond of the asshole I have now.” Just as Gavin reached them, Grayson and Emilie exploded into laughter together.
Gavin came to an immediate halt before them. Instead of hissing or clucking at them as Grayson expected, all the tension and anger seeped out of his brother. He stared at them, looking first at Grayson and then Emilie. His blue eyes were wide with shock.
And something else, Grayson realized.
His brother was hurt. Gavin closed his eyes for a moment, his brow crinkling tightly.
Suddenly Grayson didn’t think the situation was very funny. Emilie tightened her hand around his, obviously sensing the change as well.
When Gavin opened his eyes, he said, “I wanted to do something special for both of you.” He shrugged. “That’s all.” Without another word, Gavin turned and walked toward the entrance.
“Gavin,” Grayson called, “we still can. Let’s just go sit down and order a glass of wine and relax for a minute or two.”
“Not possible,” Gavin said, turning but still walking backward. “Our reservation was forfeited. Seems nobody called to let them know we were running late.”
Realization hit just as Gavin shoved his way out the door.
He forgot to call the restaurant and let them know. Gavin had asked him to, and he’d forgotten.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Fuck,” Emilie said next to him.
They ran out the door together.
Chapter Four
Gavin stood on the curb, back hunched and hands in pockets. He didn’t ask for these goddamn emotions, for all these selfish, ridiculous thoughts, but they bombarded him anyways. He hated the anger and the frustration and the impotence. They felt dirty inside him, so he tried to shove them away, to put them in a locked chest made of lead, to bury them miles beneath the surface, yet they leaked out still. They seeped inside him, through his veins and his bones and his lungs and his throat. They sunk through the flesh of his heart.
He loved Emilie. He loved his brother. He loved his children. These were truths that could never be changed or altered or destroyed.
But there were other truths.
There were tiny whispers when he was alone, things that said this is not right and go and find something else.
Sometimes those whispers grew louder, and they said I want to be happy. They said this won’t last, not this way.
And there were times, like now, when there were no whispers, no quiet breaths of dissent, no meek doubts. Right now there was only a bright, deafening scream, a shout drowning out every other thought or concern or truth or fiction. This voice only knew one word.
Leave.
It filled his skull, his rib cage, the sockets of his eyes, every bodily cavern, both great and small. It flooded his being. Leave, it said. Leave and leave and leave.
He didn’t know where it came from. He couldn’t bear to look at it closely, yet it grew harder and harder not to. He loved his family more than anything on this earth. He loved them more than his own life. How could he even think the word leave? To do so would kill him. It would destroy every good and perfect and decent thing about his existence in this world.
Yet the thought persisted. Doggedly. And it grew bolder and stronger.
And now it was a roar.
Emilie came to stand next to him and tentatively placed her hand on his arm. A cool breeze sliced through the covered circle drive of Tosca Ristorante. It stung Gavin’s nose and the edges of his cheeks. It washed Emilie’s delicious scent toward him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He patted her hand but couldn’t think of anything to say. He was upset. He wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t, and he couldn’t talk about it either. “But you know,” she continued, “everything will be fine. It was just dinner at a fancy restaurant. No major catastrophe. No tragic disaster. We can’t let it ruin our whole evening.”
He turned to her. Grayson was a little ways off, pestering one of the valet attendants about getting their vehicle around faster. Her blue eyes waited for his to return. They were deep, deep blue. They were wide and beguiling, but what he loved about them were the tiniest specks and slivers of periwinkle around her pupil. He’d stared at those infinitesimal bits of brightness against the darker blue so many times, with so much love and friendship and intimacy.
Those eyes asked questions of him, questions he couldn’t and wouldn’t face.
And she was right, of course. The cancellation of a reservation was nothing to fret about. It had absolutely no effect on anything. He still had the woman of his heart on his arm, and his infuriating twin brother close by. He should relax. He should go with the flow. He should accept things the way they were.
He would have to ignore those words in his mind. He shouldn’t let Grayson’s innocent idiocy ruin a perfectly fine evening. It would be all right.
It was what he told himself over and over again. It would be all right. He repeated it. He marched it through and over and across every other thought in his mind. It would be all right. There was no room for anything else. He sighed, saying it again.
It would be all right.
He cracked a brittle smile and nodded. He leaned down and kissed her.
When he pulled back from the kiss, Emilie looked at him for a long moment, a half smile curling her lips, and then she leaned close to his ear. “You can do bet
ter than that.”
She pulled back and looked at him again with a challenge. He didn’t know if she was challenging his kiss or challenging something deeper, if she was challenging him to deny what she already knew, what he thought he’d been so diligently keeping from her.
“Car’s here!” Grayson called cheerily, jogging up to them. “So now what are we going to do? Order a pizza? Get sushi? Try Hester’s?”
Emilie squeezed Gavin’s arm and then stepped out of his embrace so that they could crawl into the SUV, which the valet attendants had parked right in front of them. Three doors had been opened for them as well, and Emilie hopped into the front seat. “I don’t care what we eat for dinner, but I want some tiramisu. I had my heart set on it tonight.”
Gavin walked around to the driver’s side, tipped his attendant, and climbed in as Emilie threw out more suggestions for dinner.
“Have a good evening, sir,” the attendant said, making sure Gavin was all the way in and then closing the door. They pulled away from Tosca Ristorante and headed into downtown Male Order. After a bit of discussion, they decided to pick up some to-go sushi and bubble tea from West Side King, Male Order’s new Asian fusion restaurant. Then they would hit up the Whole Foods bakery for some tiramisu and head back to their house to have a romantic dinner in the gazebo that Papa Craig had commissioned for them as a one-year anniversary present.
Gavin hoped they’d make it back to the house with little incident. He’d wanted the evening to be special and sweet and romantic, and the only one of them spoiling that mood was him. He needed to suck it up. He thought he could do that. He thought it would be easy. He thought this for approximately thirty-seven minutes until they got to Whole Foods. As they were pulling into the parking lot, Grayson said, “Why don’t y’all just let me hop out? I’ll run in, get the stuff, and then get back out here.”
“Sure. Sounds good,” Gavin said, pulling up to the curb near the entrance.
So Grayson hopped out and ran in.
Gavin worried for a moment that Emilie would try and talk to pick up their conversation from outside the restaurant. But she didn’t ask any uncomfortable questions. She merely wondered aloud how the kids were doing.