Chapter 11 #2
When it wraps up, everyone quickly vacates the room, on their way to lunch or to go talk shit about their CEO who has barely said a word to anyone here. Probably both.
Theo organizes his multiple piles of reports into one stack, while Holden sits on the conference table beside him. In the far corner, I’m cleaning up the coffee nook, wiping up drips, restocking paper cups, and tiny packs of raw sugar.
By the mischievous look on Holden’s face, I can tell Theo is in for it. “Want to go out to lunch? You can tell me all the latest office gossip and get midday buzzed? What do you say?”
“Holden, it’s one in the afternoon. I better not catch you getting midday buzzed until you’re off the clock.”
“I’m teasing. Kind of. Besides what’s up with you not telling your new assistant here that you have a dashingly handsome younger brother?”
“Believe it or not, it’s because we’re too busy working. Unlike some people.”
“Did you tell her about the others?” Holden asks, tipping his head in my direction.
“The others? What others?” I chirp in, forgetting I’m supposed to be playing more of a fly on the wall role, and not an active nosey-as-hell eavesdropper. My inconspicuous skills could definitely use some work.
“That there are a total of four Prescott siblings,” Holden says, looking over at me.
Theo’s face flashes defensiveness. “Five.”
“Five,” Holden says, quickly correcting himself.
The brothers exchange a shared look, something unsaid passing between them.
A warning on Theo’s end and an apology on Holden’s.
No matter what it is, I get the feeling it’s knowledge I’m not supposed to be included in.
Which is why I pay extra special attention to wiping up one particular spot of dried creamer.
Mentally, I try to figure out how Holden would get the number of siblings wrong, and what their silent conversation pertains to.
While I value privacy, I’m still nosey as hell.
Kicking his brother’s chair with the tip of his leather shoe, Holden continues, “So, what do you say? Nachos? Margaritas? Nonalcoholic, of course.”
Resigned, Theo drags a hand down his face with a sigh. “What the hell? Let’s go.”
Holden perks up. “Really? C’mon, Marley, grab your stuff. Mexican food on us.”
I hesitate, biting the inside of my cheek.
Holden seems like a good time. The type who’d spontaneously decide to take a road trip and be dancing on the bar by midday.
But Theo’s frowny stare from across the room makes me rethink it.
The last time we were in a room together before this, he made it abundantly clear that our relationship will remain professional.
Nothing more. He’s not wrong, that’s how it should be.
That’s how my bosses from every other single job I’ve ever had have been.
With that boundary he wants so firmly in place, I shake my head, declining.
“Thanks for the invite, but I don’t want to intrude.
Besides, I should stay and finish typing up these notes. ”
“You should come,” Theo says, standing.
I freeze, one arm stilling mid-wipe on the surface I’m cleaning. “I should?”
Was that … an invite? From the man who seems like he’d rather be dead than have to hang out with someone?
Holden stares at his brother, mouth slightly agape, as if the concept of Theo inviting anyone anywhere is beyond comprehension.
“We’ll leave in five.” My boss walks out of the room as if he didn’t drop a huge atomic bomb of friendliness by inviting me. As soon as he is gone, Holden thumbs toward his brother’s direction with an impressed grin. Like, nice job, Mar. Nice fucking job.
We all cram into a vinyl-lined booth. I’m on one side, while the Prescott brothers are shoulder-to-shoulder across from me. They’re nearly too broad to share the space, but they’re making it work regardless.
When we first walked in, Holden slid in across from me without hesitation, leaving Theo to do the silent mental math: which side was worse?
He chose his brother.
Judging by the grimace he makes every time Holden belly laughs with a mouth full of chips, I’d bet he’s regretting that decision.
Holden digs into another fresh basket of warm tortilla chips, jabbering about the time their mother attempted to make them homemade pizza until it caught fire in the oven, Mrs. Doubtfire style, at which point she gave up and called out for a pizza delivery instead.
My mom was cool like that sometimes too.
Other times, I wouldn’t see her for days.
Somehow, I get the feeling Mrs. Prescott was never randomly absent.
When Holden comes back from the bar with a round of virgin margaritas for the table, I take a sip of the sugar-rimmed glass. “Theo, you didn’t tell me your brother was super cool. I could’ve had a work best friend this entire time.”
Holden looks up, very impressed with himself and completely unaware of the dab of salsa near his lips.
Theo, on the other hand, scowls at us like we’re chewing with our mouths open. “There’s a no-fraternization policy,” he gruffs.
I gesture toward his brother. “No offense, but that’s not our vibe here. Very platonic.”
Holden nods in absolute agreement.
“He’s already told me all about his second date tonight with the lovely … Angela?” I glance at Holden to see if I got the name right. What I mainly remember is that she’s a thirty-five-year-old surgeon who also somehow became a social media influencer.
“Angelica,” he corrects.
“That’s right. Angelica. Like from Rugrats.”
I turn to Theo. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about me and the whole fraternization thing. I don’t date.”
Both brothers look up in unison, clearly surprised.
“You don’t date?” Theo asks.
“Like, at all?” Holden echoes.
“Nope. Not at all.”
“You can’t leave us hanging like that. You have to tell us why,” Holden replies.
I shrug. “I don’t know exactly why. It’s a bunch of problems compounded into one gigantic reason, I think.
Fucked-up childhood, trust problems, the whole nine yards.
I don’t think dragging some guy into that mess would be a wise choice.
” I wave it off, like it’s not the least bit important, when in reality, it sticks to me like gum on the bottom of a shoe, persistently and annoyingly there—I’ll always be alone.
The first half of my life, I was by myself, and it’s looking more and more like that will be the running theme for the rest of it too.
“So, you never plan on getting married? Having kids?” Theo asks from across the table, suddenly more invested than I expected.
“Right now, I can barely take care of myself.” I pause. “Guess we’ll see how life looks in five or ten years.”
I bounce my knee under the table, nerves ricocheting through my body, until it accidentally knocks into Theo’s much longer legs beneath it.
The jolt of contact sends a hot rush through me, like electric molten lava tearing through my veins from one stupid, accidental touch.
My mouth tips up in a sheepish sorry, but he doesn’t move.
Just stares. Expression unreadable. Like I’ve walked into his house uninvited and pissed on the welcome mat.
It hits me that I’ve known him for weeks and still know almost nothing. “What about you, Theo? Do you have a wife? Kids?”
He’s never mentioned it, but I’ve never asked either.
Holden bursts out laughing. “You’re funny.”
“What’s so funny about that?” I laugh back, not entirely sure what I missed.
“Theo with kids.” He nudges his brother. “No offense, bro, but you’ve got the charisma of a soggy napkin around children. And women, too, if we’re being honest. Your game is nonexistent.”
I should not find it quite so endearing that he supposedly doesn’t know how to talk to women.
From appearances alone, Theo looks like he could expertly charm any supermodel on the planet.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised though.
He’s in the office until nearly bedtime and back again before anyone else shows up.
Theo scowls at his brother. “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that when you’re a huge commitment-phobe yourself.”
“We’re both lacking in certain areas, that’s for sure,” Holden replies, completely unbothered. “My lack of game isn’t the issue though. If anything, it’s the opposite—it’s too good.”
“Well, look at us,” I say, raising my glass like it’s some kind of celebration. “Three very single disasters.” It’s not exactly something to be proud of, but we’re all a little messed up in our own unique way.
I hold up my frosty margarita for a toast. “To being emotionally unavailable.”
Holden grins and clinks his glass to mine. “To being alone forever.”
Theo hesitates, then taps his to ours, reluctantly still doing it.
“This doesn’t seem like something we should be celebrating,” he mutters.
The waitress brings us our entrees, white oval plates piled high with rolled enchiladas slathered in red sauce.
From the moment she’s there to the moment she leaves, she can’t take her eyes off the two brothers.
And I don’t blame her. They stick out amongst a crowd, having won the superior genetic lottery.
This is their world, and we all just get to stare at them with heart eyes while they live it.
Holden digs in without hesitation, not even waiting for the food to cool.
“So, Marley,” he says, mouth half full. “Did you grow up around here?”
“Kind of.” I wipe my hands on a napkin. “My mom and I bounced between Brighton Bay and Lawson Hills when I was a kid.”
Holden’s brows lift. “Lawson Hills? The town with all the cows and farms?”
“That’s the one.” I laugh. “Not much to do out there, so I’m glad to be back in the city. Have you two always lived here?”
Holden nods. “Me, Theo, and our sister Eliza stuck around. Grant took off the second he could—moved right outside of Brighton Bay to some cabin in the woods. Even more of a recluse than Theo, if you can believe it.”
Theo doesn’t react, just keeps eating like he’s heard it a thousand times before.