19. Never Be the Same #3
“Don’t go,” Philippa says, taking me by surprise. “I haven’t seen you in a while—you’ve been so busy on the road.” She pouts, moving toward the dining table.
“Yeah, we leave for our honeymoon tomorrow. We won’t see you until Thanksgiving,” Andrew adds.
“Stay.” Broderick’s plea is soft but unshakable.
I nod.
He nudges me playfully, and his smile smooths the sting in my chest.
“You guys brought me food.”
“Yeah, figured you might need some cheering up,” Andrew blurts. “But looks like Elena beat us to it.”
Cheering up? He must mean the media frenzy. The thought of Broderick believing I’d run back to Alex without a word, slices through me, sharp and humiliating.
I couldn’t do that, not to him.
“Oh my God, Andrew!” Philippa snorts, laughing as they unload the food across the table.
“I’m good—and we were just working out. I’m helping Elena get stronger for tour.” He throws me a wink.
“Bullshit.” Andrew coughs.
“Alright, honey, stop teasing them,” Philippa jests.
I watch the three of them banter, and it feels like I’m intruding. They mesh so naturally, woven together by years of friendship and loyalty.
Is this how Philippa feels when Riley and I are together?
“Hey, come sit.” Broderick beckons me, and I realize I’m still rooted in the kitchen, awkward and unsure of my place.
I want to bolt, but my feet betray me, carrying me toward him—pulled by the safety of his presence.
“Aww, look at you two. You’re even matching,” Philippa teases, cooing over our outfits.
“Aww,” they both echo in unison.
I roll my eyes. They’re enjoying this far too much.
“Guys, we’re just friends,” Broderick admonishes—probably for my benefit—as he takes a sip from the drink they brought.
“Who fuck—like champions,” I shoot back, deadpan. If they’re going to skirt around innuendos all night, I might as well make them squirm. “Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Andrew’s eyes widen in amusement, and Philippa slaps a hand over her mouth.
Broderick coughs, choking on his drink, and I pat his back, grinning.
The new Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair graciously bring an array of Thai food—apparently Broderick’s favorite. He sure had me worked up with an appetite, because I barely join their conversation, shoveling Pad Thai noodles into my mouth like it’s my full-time job.
Once we finish eating, the four of us move on to wine and dessert.
“You guys excited about the honeymoon?” I ask.
“Yes,” Philippa gushes as she curls her fingers through Andrew’s hair, leaning back lazily in her chair. “I’m ready to be sipping cocktails, not worrying about work, and just relaxing.”
“And other things,” Andrew adds.
“You seem a little frisky tonight, Bro, already switched to honeymoon mode,” Broderick jokes, and we all laugh.
“I’m curious,” Andrew says, smirking. “How does this little deal work? Do you have a bat signal, Elena—flash it and Broderick comes running, hard-on in tow?”
Philippa cackles—any trace of ladylike composure gone.
“Oh my God, Andrew, you’re diabolical,” she says.
As much as I love seeing this looser, fun side of Philippa, I’m about ready to make my sister a widow before she even gets on that well-deserved vacation.
“Hey, Brody, remember that plan we had?”
“Yeah—El, be a dear and grab a shovel,” Broderick says.
“Damn, dude.” Andrew clutches his chest in mock offense. “Siding with her? The betrayal. Must be some seriously good sex.”
If only he knew. Heat creeps up my cheeks.
“Okay, okay—I don’t really want to discuss how one of my best friends is railing my little sister.” Philippa, ever the voice of reason, throws her hands up between us.
“Yeah, Andrew, save all that horny banter for the honeymoon. I’m fully expecting a mini Sinclair in nine months.”
“Race you there,” Andrew teases.
And I tense up. What?
Broderick must sense it, because he shoots Andrew a look.
“Brody—you’re not getting any younger. Surely you’ll want to settle down, have kids…sooner rather than later,” Andrew barrels on, oblivious to the landmine he’s just stepped on.
“That’s enough, Andrew.” Broderick’s voice is firm as he places a calming hand on my thigh.
And our agreement is holding him back from that.
The thought cuts through me unbidden.
I think I’m going to be sick.
The tension hangs in the air until Philippa cuts in, tugging Andrew toward the door with promises of packing and early flights. They gather their things, kisses on cheeks and well wishes.
And just like that, it’s quiet again.
Yet my mind is at war with what Andrew said earlier.
Broderick sinks onto the couch with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. I hover for a second before sitting down beside him, the silence stretching between us, heavy with everything left unsaid.
“You okay?” Broderick asks, always checking in, always making sure I’m alright. Something about it tugs at me—he’s too good. Too sweet.
“Are you?”
We hold each other’s gazes for a moment.
“You still want this, right?” I ask finally.
“Yes, baby, I am—all in. I won’t be the one to end this, whatever it is between us,” he says in earnest.
“But what Andrew said—”
“I don’t care about what he said.”
Before I can say anything further, he pulls me into him. My head rests on his chest. His warmth seeps into me, caressing my heart.
“They can have their opinions, it doesn’t matter,” he says.
I tilt my head up toward him.
“This is between us. If you need me, El—I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.”
Broderick’s green eyes gaze into mine, his thumb caressing my bottom lip.
Let me in.
And in that moment, I decide to—just a little.