13. Christian
“Hey, big brother. Come have dinner with us.”
I almost tell Clara that I can’t go to Nashville until I realize what she means.
“You’re in Sweet Haven?”
“Yes. We just got here. The kids are napping, but you can come right after. We miss you.”
It’s crazy how happy I become whenever Clara, Nick, and I end up in the same place and can meet up, but I suppose it’s because we’re always so busy now. The last time I saw them was in Nashville, and while that was only a little more than a month ago, it feels like ages.
Then I remember something.
“Can I bring someone?”
“Someone?”
“My assignment. I can’t leave her alone.”
“Oh! Yes, I forgot about your client. Bring her, please. She’s more than welcome.”
She hangs up after that, not asking for updates. Sometimes, Clara is the nosiest sister there is, but other times, she understands I can’t reveal stuff that easily and doesn’t pry.
Most of the time, it depends on her mood.
“Who was that and where are we going?”
I turn and find Raven with a raised brow, overhearing everything—not that I kept it a secret since I took the call in the living room. I nod.
“Dinner with my sister and her family. If you’re up for it. If you’re not, I can cancel.”
But her expression grows interested.
“You mean I get to meet the renowned Nick Slater that everyone in town talks about? And his very sweet, equally talked-about wife, your sister, Clara?” She grins. “Count me in.”
I don’t expect the enthusiasm, but I like it. Hours later, it wanes a bit as we drive to Nick’s and Clara’s house, which is next door to our parents’ house, who are on vacation. It’s their second place of residence, separate from the one in Nashville where Nick’s recording studio is.
Then I notice Raven’s change in mood to nervousness while we’re walking up to the door, and she’s repeatedly smoothing down her dress to remove wrinkles.
“Relax. They don’t bite.”
She offers me a quick smile, but it turns shy the moment the door opens. Clara hugs me right away, then steps back to scrutinize me.
“You showered. Good.”
“Funny.”
Then she turns to scrutinize Raven. Or it’s more of a friendly smile and an offered hand, polite down to her very bones, but I know my sister’s studying her.
“And you must be Raven, Honey Lee’s cousin! It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Raven accepts the handshake. “You have?”
“Yes. She said you’re a preschool teacher and you’re absolutely divine with the kids. You should come meet mine.”
Bringing up the kids relaxes Raven immediately, and soon Jazzy and Jared are headed toward us. Jared stumbles in his eagerness to get to me, but Jazzy beats him to it, reaching up for a tight hug. I pick her up, twirl her around, then put her down.
“Uncle Christian! You came!”
“Of course I came, sweetie.” Then I turn to Jared and pick him up, too, then rain kisses down his cheek until he’s giggling. “And here’s my favorite young man.”
“Who is she, mom?”
Clara softens like she always does whenever Jazzy calls her mom. “Jazzy, sweetie, this is Raven. She’s Uncle Christian’s friend and our guest for tonight.”
I watch as Raven bends to Jazzy’s level and beams, definitely not shy around kids. “Hi, Jazzy. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Jazzy, do you want to know what her other name is?” I fight back a grin. Raven shoots me an amused look, then returns her attention to Jazzy.
“What?”
“Rain Jelly.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my niece’s eyes get this big. “Really?”
Raven nods her head, her eyes twinkling. “He’s not kidding. Do you want to know what happened to Lowie the Frog after the book ended?”
And just like that, she has Jazzy in the palm of her hands, listening to every word she says. It’s not a one-sided thing, either, as Jazzy breaks into a multitude of questions and Raven is immediately charmed by the girl’s wit.
Clara takes Jared from me, fascinated by the exchange. “She definitely has a knack for kids.”
“Hmm.”
Then my best friend Nick walks in, larger than life and taking up space with his presence alone. I want to laugh when Raven, who never commented about him or his music, is suddenly starstruck as he charms her with his megawatt rockstar grin. At least, that’s what everyone calls it these days.
Ten minutes later, we’re all sitting at the dining table where Clara laid out a feast. We catch up and include Raven in the conversation without bringing up why she needs my services, and I can tell she likes this intimate setting better than the more public one at the diner. Her shyness disappears as Clara talks about their adventures in New York, where Nick had a special concert recently.
“So, how long will you be staying in town, Raven?” Clara asks as soon as the kids disperse to the living room, done with their meals.
“I’m not sure, but probably another month or two.” Raven glances at me. “It depends.”
I almost want it to depend on whatever’s between us, but I know that comes second—or maybe last—compared to her other priorities. Clara asks more questions that are pretty general, then the two women follow the children to the living room.
It’s no surprise that as soon as they’re there, Raven and Jazzy gravitate toward each other again, with Jared slipping in between them to listen to them talk. Soon Jared is in Raven’s lap, and the comfortable vibe between the three strikes something within me as I imagine Raven having a family of her own someday and looking exactly like this: happy, relaxed, and in tune. Then my chest tightens as I’m reminded that it means she’ll be far away from Sweet Haven.
After all, I don’t imagine the same for myself.
“Help me with the dishes, will you?”
I raise a brow but stand up and follow Nick to the kitchen. “So, you’re on kitchen duty now?”
“Always. Did you know Clara and I took up some culinary lessons? Now we take turns cooking.”
“And washing dishes?”
Nick grins. “I wash the dishes. She makes our houses homey and cozy.”
I chuckle, thinking that’s a fair deal. But I take over the sink, then accept the glass of whiskey that Nick pours for me after. He takes one for himself, too, as we drift to the front porch, where we have a view of the quiet street and the lively living room.
Nick pays more attention to Raven, though, sipping at leisure. “Is she a good client?”
“Yeah. Good pay and follows all the rules.”
“And do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you still follow your rules? And that one particular rule, is it still in place?”
Nick is the only one who knows about my rule. He and Clara know about my history with my old client, but it’s Nick who knows all the sordid details, including how I once felt about Honey Lee. He knows about the walls I built because he built those kinds of walls around himself, too, before he rekindled his relationship with my sister.
Normally, I’m honest with him about most things, but I find myself nodding.
“Of course.”
Nick contemplates my answer and doesn’t say a word. Then?—
“So, what does it mean that you broke the rule?”
I pause mid-sip, not expecting the bluntness. Maybe I should have. I glance at him, about to deny it again, but Nick’s already looking at me like he’s prepared to keep prodding until he gets to the truth.
“I didn’t break the rule.”
“But you touched her.”
“Yes. But we agreed on no attachments and no feelings.”
Laughter rings from the living room. I look back and watch as Raven tips her head back, tickled over whatever Clara and Jazzy are saying to her. I don’t know why my heart stutters when I see her like this, but the sight is wonderful and makes it impossible to look away.
So, I look as she gestures, says something back, and gets excited. I look as her hair swishes with her movements, and her dress rides up, then falls when she remembers to pull it down. I look as her cheeks warm and the pink spreads down her shoulders, which I want to kiss until they become pinker.
Then I remember I’m not alone and note that Nick’s staring at me…no, observing me.
“No attachments and no feelings, huh? Are you sure about that?”
“It complicates things. It’s not needed.”
Even I can hear how defensive I sound. Nick observes me some more, tilting his head.
“So, this is just sex, then? You’ll be ready anytime to let her go if she leaves?”
My mind flashes to how I held her tightly when she had another nightmare, then how our last sex in bed felt like something that I’ll never experience with anyone else. It was more real than any of my other trysts with women, but it’s the intimate talks and sharing of our pasts that connect us even more deeply.
I try to recall a time when I was alone in my house and can’t seem to remember a single moment anymore. Then I recall the times I spent with her there and a multitude of images come rushing at me with no effort.
“I don’t know.”
That’s the truth, too.