The Art of Marrying Your Enemy (The Richmond Brothers #2)

53. Aaron

53

AARON

T he ancient mansion was empty. It was Friday night, after all.

Maybe I should have stayed at Grayson’s. At least I could have eaten something.

The nap hadn’t been long enough. I was exhausted again. I walked into my study, fully intending to go down into the cellar and sleep in the dark like a monster.

Mail was piled up on my desk from the past couple of days I’d been practically living at the office. Idly, I picked up the envelopes and tossed the junk mail. I remember how excited I’d been the first time I’d gotten mail. Now it was just bills, ads, and credit card offers.

The package, though…

I hadn’t ordered anything.

I picked it up. It was addressed to Mrs. Richmond.

It was Daisy’s.

Maybe this was the perfect excuse to see her.

My heart rose.

No. I didn’t want to see the hate on her face. I couldn’t take it, not after that Friday night dinner.

Box in hand, I searched my desk for a Post-it so I could write a note to the servants to deliver the package to Daisy on Monday.

When I slammed a drawer, something stirred in the box.

“What the hell?” I pressed my ear to it.

There was scratching.

A rat?

There weren’t any holes in the box.

I grabbed the letter opener, turned on the desk lamp, and slowly slid the sharp blade through the tape. Then I carefully pried back the box.

The six fuzzy yellow, cream, and brown chicks inside stared up at me with wide black eyes, took one look at me, and chirped excitedly.

It took everything in me not to drop the box.

“Holy shit.” Clutching the box to my chest, I looked around wildly as the baby birds flapped their tiny wings, cheeping.

“Don’t worry,” I told them. “You’re okay. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

How long had they been trapped in that box? They must have been so terrified. I should have been here, should have rescued them from their prison. This was my fault.

“I need to call animal control. You need water. I need to call a vet too. Where the fuck is my phone?”

I raced to the kitchen and almost set the box in the sink. Then I thought better of it and pulled out a big cake pan. After lining it with a tea towel and adding a dish of water, I carefully scooped the little chicks into it. Three of them proceeded to almost drown in the water dish.

“Fuck.” Grabbing paper towels, I scooped the sopping baby birds up, blotted their feathers, and cradled them against my chest, where they softly chirped and ruffled their feathers.

Eyes on the rest of the chicks, I grabbed the phone on the wall and dialed a number from memory.

“What do chickens eat? Baby chickens?” I asked anxiously when Grayson answered.

“They are so cute!” Connor sat down next to me.

“Hi, babies!” Spencer knelt. “Do you love me? Yes you do!” The chicks, which had drunk their fill of water, were now huddled on my lap for warmth.

“Okay, so I have,” Finn said, dumping out his shopping bag, “corn meal, chia seeds, quinoa seeds, and sunflower seeds.”

“Can they eat that?” I asked in concern. “Is this plain cornmeal, or is it a bread mix?”

“The ingredient list only has plain organic cornmeal.” Finn turned the box over. “Though this looks like a good recipe for jalapeno cornbread.”

“You need to grind that up. Those seeds are too big for them to eat,” Grayson told Finn as he ripped into the packages.

“I got this. I found a recipe online.”

My brothers crowded around.

“You don’t have to feed them bougie food,” Spencer said. “I asked one of the Svenssons. They grew up on a farm.”

“I thought it was a commune,” I interjected.

“They had chickens, and they fed them worms,” Spencer said as Graham and Finn measured out seeds.

“I don’t think Aaron wants worms in his house.” Connor scooped up a brown chick with a white stripe on its back.

“If that’s what they need to eat, I can have worms sourced.”

Two chicks jumped off my lap and ran to Finn.

“Watch them,” Grayson ordered, gently scooping up the chicks.

“You don’t have to be so fancy,” Spencer argued. “The Svenssons said they just cut the bottom off a cardboard box, let them have at it, and moved them around the yard.”

“I don’t really trust the Svenssons to be the best people to give advice on how to raise babies.” I scowled.

“I ordered you specialty chick feed,” Grayson assured me. “And a pen for them. It will be here tomorrow.”

“They’ll be fine with this until then.” Finn rummaged around for a blender.

“I think I should take them to an emergency vet.” I watched the chicks carefully for any sign of trauma from being stuck in that box.

“I doubt there’s a vet in Manhattan that knows what to do with a baby chicken.” Graham snorted.

“The Svenssons said if they eat, then they’re fine.” Spencer patted my head.

“Did they know these chicks have been in a box for days?” I asked, still concerned.

Now it was Grayson’s turn to scowl as Finn started the blender.

“See if they eat it.” Finn poured some ground-up grain into my hand.

The chicks seemed confused.

“Yum, it’s food,” Connor said, pretending to nibble the feed.

One beige chick with brown speckles finally investigated the feed in my hand.

“It’s eating,” Spencer whispered as the chick pecked at the food.

Anxious, I waited as the chick continued pecking it out, selecting the best bits, the bird’s small beak brushing my hand.

The rest of the chicks decided that there must be something interesting there, then they all gorged themselves on the food.

“The bodega near my condo had toys,” Spencer said, dumping out a shopping bag of his own.

“Are those safe for chickens?” I asked, picking up a hanging mirror toy.

“Chickens don’t need toys,” Grayson argued.

My brothers sat on the tiled kitchen floor as the chicks bounced around, tumbling over one another, attacking the toys, picking at the food.

“They’re so warm.” Graham lifted one.

“I’m getting chickens,” Connor said, emphatic.

“No you’re not. You live in a dorm.”

After my brothers left with promises to be back tomorrow with more chicken paraphernalia, the baby birds all nestled down in a towel in my lap, huddling together for warmth again while I stared out the glass doors that led to the garden, waiting for the sun to rise.

As soon as the sky began to lighten, it was like a switch flipped. The chickens were awake.

“Guess you aren’t any worse for wear from being trapped in a box your whole lives,” I told them, pouring out more feed and offering them fresh water.

The cake pan wasn’t high enough to hold them, I discovered when I suddenly had six baby chicks crowding around my feet.

“You guys want to watch a sunrise?” I asked them as they peeped excitedly.

Carefully opening the glass door that led out to the terrace, I shooed them outside.

The baby birds seemed stunned at the rising sun as they stood there, blinking in the bright, warm light. I recognized their awe, or maybe I was losing it, projecting human emotions onto birds.

I wiped at my burning eyes.

The chicks seemed happy as they pecked at the moss on the terrace, cheeped at the curious horses that came over to greet them, unfazed when the big animals snorted and sent them bouncing.

I set them into the garden, where they immediately started scratching at the rich black earth.

“That’s too big for you,” I chided as one of them almost choked on an earthworm.

Clouds rolled in, one of those summer storms that whipped up out of nowhere and blew over just as quickly. The chicks looked amazed as the first raindrops fell.

I couldn’t stop smiling while watching them, not sure if I was crying or if it was just the rain plastering my face, as they craned their necks up to the sky, their stubby wings outstretched.

The storm got to be too much for them, and the birds crowded under my bent knees as I sat on the terrace, pelted by the rain.

I felt… not great. But like I’d survive, maybe. The chickens weren’t enough to fill the Daisy-sized hole in my chest, but they were enough to keep me from taking on water and drowning.

Daisy. The healthy thing to do would be to give her up, but I knew that I’d never get over her. I’d keep her picture on my wall, build a shrine to her in my house, long for her until my dying breath.

Someone was yelling from inside the house. I couldn’t make out who it was over the rain. My brothers?

No, a woman.

“Natalie?”

“ Aaron! ”

“Daisy?” I stood up, making the chicks peep.

“Aaron! Oh my god.” Daisy careened out onto the terrace flats, sliding on the slick stones.

I grabbed her before she could fall on the chicks, who were ecstatic at the sight of a whole new person to greet.

“You found them,” she screamed then threw her arms around me. “I was so worried.”

I shouldn’t, but my arms tightened around her.

“They were in a box in my study. I don’t know how long they were there,” I said against her hair, “but they seem fine. They ate. Saw the sun for the first time.” I leaned back gently and cupped her face. “They were very impressed.”

“Sorry,” she said softly as my eyes searched hers. “I completely forgot they were coming. It was going to be a surprise for you.”

“It’s a wonderful surprise.”

“Is that why you’re standing out here in the rain?” She gave me a small smile. “You always do that. Ruin your clothes.”

“I’m just waiting for the apocalypse, and here she is, right on schedule.”

I stroked the hair out of her face tenderly.

“I tried to call.” She looked down.

“I destroyed my phone.”

“I probably had something to do with that.” She rubbed her arm.

“You ruined my life, Daisy,” I told her sadly. “Did I ever tell you that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” I told her. “I’m grateful. I wouldn’t change it for anything. I think for the first time in my life, you made me feel alive, really alive, really human. I used to wonder”—I stroked her wet face—“when we were all trapped down there by my father what the real world was like, what real life was like, how wonderful it would be. How magical. Turns out it kind of sucks.”

She gave me a small smile.

“It’s messy, it’s confusing, but it’s also really beautiful. So much beauty it hurts.” I leaned in slowly and pressed my lips to her forehead. Then her cheek. “I love you, Daisy. You’re the first girl I ever loved, and you’ll be the last.”

“You do?” she sniffled, her chin trembling.

“I meant what I said, remember? Right before you dumped unicorn vomit all over me?”

“It’s a very popular drink.”

“You’re going to make people sick with that.”

She laughed weakly.

I rested my forehead against hers.

“So,” I murmured, “did you just come here to check on the chickens, or can I get on my knees and beg your forgiveness then ask you to marry me again just so I can hear you tell me to go to hell?”

“You can try, but I won’t tell you to go to hell.”

I leaned in, pressed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then kissed her again, feeling like I was finally home, finally free.

“I always dreamed of kissing you in the rain when I’d see you outside,” she breathed against my mouth. “I fell in love with you that night, the first time I saw you standing out there, drenched in the rain on the patio. I just fell in love with you again in the rain. You’re better than I ever imagined. I love you, Aaron. I always loved you. I will always love you.”

I clutched her to me, kissing her as I spun her around, scattering the raindrops. “I love you. I want you with me forever and ever. I’ll never let you go,” I said.

“You’ll keep me locked up forever?”

“I’d like you to stay willingly, but...”

“If you fire up the basement sex spa, I’m your girl!”

She was laughing when I set her down with a splash on the terrace, the sun sparkling in the last of the raindrops as the clouds moved on.

“Daisy?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth as I knelt in front of her.

I opened the ring box.

“Would you do me the honor—”

The chicks immediately swarmed me.

“Hold on. They think it’s food.” I gently scooted the chicks out of the way while they chirped and tried to go after the ring box.

“Come on, girls,” I told the chicks, scooping them up in my arms. “I’ll make you another breakfast.”

Daisy clutched her chest, her eyes big and sparkling, as I poured out food for the chickens.

“I knew you’d make a good father.” She kissed me noisily.

“You’re not getting pregnant until you’re married to me,” I warned.

She threw herself on me.

“If you were really the devious insurance agent you claim to be, you’d have never filed that divorce paperwork, so we could start right now.”