38. Baldo
The smell of bacon wafts to me and I groan. My head is spinning after I almost emptied the entire bottle of whiskey last night.
I didn’t so much want to get drunk as I hoped it would help me sleep. Succumb to the darkness and escape reality.
I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. Tough shit. I slept for two hours, and now I’m nursing a hangover of catastrophic magnitude.
The tantalizing aroma draws me out of bed. I find the sizzling bacon and Brook in the kitchen.
She makes a face when she sees me, scrunching it like she was in pain. “I’d say good morning, but you don’t look like it’s one for you.”
So we’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen. Fuck. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and down it.
I lower my forehead against the cold stainless steel door, and almost jump when she puts her warm hand on my back. Instead, I tense.
Her small palm covers only a tiny space between my shoulder blades, and yet it sends tingles through my whole body. My cock stirs. I guess the fucker doesn’t have a hangover.
“I found the bottle, so I thought you might need a good, greasy breakfast.” Brook plants a gentle kiss on my back and returns to the stove.
“Are we going to talk—”
“Eat first. Sit down.”
“Someone is bossy this morning.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, her face a vision. “I have an excellent teacher.”
And now my cock is at full mast. Great.
I climb onto the stool, and she pushes a plate in front of me. “Do you want butter on your toast?”
I nod, and she smears two slices of crunchy bread and hands them to me. “It looks delicious.”
“And it will help your stomach. Do you need an aspirin?”
“For fuck’s sake, can you stop, Brook? Let’s not—”
“Okay, okay.” She raises her arms in surrender. “But please eat while I tell you I’m sorry. I was really disappointed about the TV series, and so upset with Dylan. And with myself for having such a parasite in my life for so long. And I know you meant well.
“But I need you to let me fight my own battles and fail. I know it’s your nature to make things better for me, but what I need from you is to support me even when I fail. I’m sorry I overreacted. But with everything else that’s going on… I just needed some space.”
With everything else that’s going on. That’s the core of our issue.
“But locking yourself away instead of talking? We can disagree, we can make mistakes, but we can’t just bail out.”
Her shoulders sag, and she has that tortured expression that makes me want to wage war on the whole world.
The problem is that the only war left to fight is in our own backyard.
“I’m sorry, Baldo. I promise I won’t shun you.”
“Well, at least I got a nutritious breakfast out of it.”
“And it’s breakfast with entertainment.” She saunters over to stand between my legs.
“Entertainment?”
She smirks and drops to her knees, pulling the waistband of my briefs down.
“Brook?”
“Be a good boy.” She wraps her lips around my cock.
* * *
I make her come in the shower, my little nymph, and then wash her hair, which is my new fetish.
I help her out of the shower and dry her before wrapping a towel around her. Grabbing another one, I hook it around my hips.
“The family lunch is today,” she says tentatively while she combs her hair.
“I know.”
Mom called me several times. I only listened to one of her voice mails, and I can imagine the rest of them. I’m not invited so much as I’m expected.
“Are you…?”
“I’ll drive you there.”
Am I now? Shit.
She stops the movement and watches me in the mirror, her eyes shining. “You are coming?”
She sounds so excited that my chest squeezes. But I’m not playing siblings with her there, so her excitement is premature.
“I’ll see.”
Her face falls at my noncommittal answer.
Because I’m a bastard, I walk away. I don’t know why my tongue runs without consulting my brain.
I find a pair of brown slacks and a navy button-down and get dressed.
The elephant in the room has destroyed the morning’s bliss. It’s the story of our lives. Fuck.
We get ready and leave together like we’re truly sharing the destination. And while we are, we also aren’t.
“Why don’t you produce the series yourself?” I ask her as we weave through the sleepy Sunday traffic in my new Volvo.
“Me?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
She stays silent, staring at me. Or I think she is, because my focus is on the road.
“I have no experience.”
“You can hire people with experience. You were going to produce it, anyway.”
“It’s risky.”
“As are all important things. And they’re also the most rewarding.”
She stares through the window for a while, and I can’t help putting my hand on her thigh. To keep connected, still hoping for us.
“You think I could do it?”
“Of course. Brook, you’re incredibly creative, and based on the amount of books you’ve put out in the last few years, you’re hardworking and disciplined. And with your vivid imagination, I’m pretty sure you have a vision for that series that is a recipe for success, because who else can bring your hero to life if not you?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
I can offer her help through a small production company I own, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it. “You will figure it out, baby.”
I chance a look in her direction, and she is smiling at me in that genuine way that punches me in the gut every single time.
We arrive at the Riverdale house, and I park beside several other cars in the paved front yard.
“Everybody is here.” Brook sighs.
“Yep.” I get out of the car.
We might have mended something between us this morning, but we’re still dancing carefully around the key issue.
“Why don’t you go in, and I’ll take the Maserati for a spin.” It’s been sitting in Mom’s garage since I drove it before our sham honeymoon.
I can’t watch her struggle with this, so I’d rather run. Fucking coward. But it’s better than being her brother.
Or seeing Micah. I haven’t seen him since he sent me away, and now, understanding his deception, I can’t imagine facing him.
“Are you sure?” She frowns, but it sounds like a plea.
“I hate the big get-togethers.” I kiss the crown of her head. “Enjoy time with your dad, and I’ll pick you up later.”
Before she can say anything, I usher her inside and grab the car keys from the cabinet in the entry hall. Luckily, we don’t run into anyone.
Chatter and laughter from the house pierce me with an arrow of longing. I dash out like the house is on fire.
I don’t know what hurts more. That I’m missing out on time with my mom and siblings. Or that Brook stands there hesitating, but doesn’t stop me.
I rev the engine and slowly weave through the cars belonging to my siblings, gravely aware that I’m the one driving away while they are staying.
I’m not far when my phone rings. I nearly let it go to voice mail, but it’s Chloe, and work has always been my best distraction.
“Why are you working on a Sunday?”
She laughs. “Have you lost your mind? Nights and weekends are our busiest time.”
I chuckle. “What’s up, Chloe?”
“I made the offer on the club in Nice, and I’m happy to report we’ll be opening a new location in two weeks.”
“So fast? Can we swing it? With all the cash needed for our Manhattan club?”
“Yes, the property is in perfect condition, and it requires only minor touches to turn it into our brand. I have reallocated funds from the most profitable clubs in France to cover the first three months, but I’m confident we will turn profit sooner than that.”
“Great job, Chloe.”
“I know,” she says gleefully.
“Thank you.”
“How is married life treating you? Have you kissed your bride yet?” she teases.
I grab the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, but I don’t answer. It’s none of her business, after all.
“Baldo? Don’t tell me you haven’t kissed her yet? I mean, your stupid no kissing rule made sense for hookups, but you care about this woman. Your club was evacuated because of your caveman routine, so I know you care about her. Are you going to fuck it up?”
I am fucking it up. Not just a coward. A fucking idiot too.
“Chloe, I have to go.” I swing into the left lane and U-turn between two sensible family SUVs.
I want to floor the gas pedal, but I’m still in the midst of Riverdale, unable to speed up.
The ten minutes it takes me to return feels like ten years, but I finally make it back. I rush to the house and follow the voices.
Everyone is gathered in the kitchen, and on the patio outside. Dinner hasn’t been served yet.
“Baldo,” Mom gasps, bouncing baby Micah in her arms. “You came.” She smiles, her face full of relief. Fuck, another woman I need to grovel to.
“Where is Brook?”
“I’m here,” she says from the entrance to the sitting room. She is clutching the handles of Micah’s wheelchair.
His expression is stoic. If my sudden appearance surprised him, he doesn’t show it. I stare him down for a moment, letting him know that this time I won’t leave.
Everyone around us stops and stares at me. I grab Brook’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”
The house remains in complete silence as I drag Brook across the hall to the library.
I close the door behind us and spin her toward me. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Baldo, I’m sorry. I-I… You need to know I’m not choosing them over you.” She grabs my hands and squeezes to the point of cutting off circulation.
“Stop, baby. Stop it. You don’t need to choose. Take as much time as you need. Even if it’s forever. I’m not pressuring you anymore.”
“Are you leaving?” Her eyes swim in confusion.
Fuck. I’m doing it all wrong.
“I’m not going to pressure you, and I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. You’ve been in my thoughts, my heart, an irreplaceable part of my soul for as long as I can remember. You’re as essential to me as air. And I know the situation isn’t ideal, but I don’t want to dance around it. Take as much time as you need, and I’ll gladly pretend to be your brother for as long as you want.” I flinch. “Okay, not gladly.”
She gasps, stifling a sob and chuckling at the same time. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I came here.”
“Why did you come?”
“To do this.”