Noah
“You showed up a month ago with a surprise child, and you’ve already landed yourself a girlfriend?”
With a shake of his head, Jude scratched Ripley’s ears.
I smirked. “We’re faking.”
His eyes went wide with shock.
I hated lying, and when it came to Jude, there was no point.
The twin connection meant he could read me, sometimes better than I could read myself, and I wasn’t nearly a good enough actor to fool him.
The thought of even trying was exhausting, and right now, I couldn’t spare the energy. Plus, he was a vault.
He dropped the six-pack onto the counter with a loud thud. “Not you too. What the fuck?”
“Me too?”
He shook his head, muttering to himself.
I scrutinized him, trying to employ that twin telepathy, but he was much better at it than I was. “Do you have a fake girlfriend too?”
He pinned me with a glare.
I only shrugged. It was worth asking, given his reaction.
He took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and then put them back on. It was a classic Jude tell. He had a secret, and he wouldn’t share it with me. “Next, are you gonna tell me you’re secretly in love with her and ask for advice about how to win her over?”
“Weirdly specific question, but no.” Although a tiny voice in my head was screaming that my statement was not entirely factual.
“Good. Don’t. Rule number one of a fake relationship: Don’t fall in love.”
Huffing a laugh at how bothered he was, I crossed my arms. “How are you the expert on fake relationships?” There had to be a story here.
He ducked his head, avoiding eye contact as he pulled two beers out. “I read,” he said. “And people tell me things.”
“I’m only telling you—”
He held up a hand. “I won’t say a word. So what do you need from me? Advice? Absolution? Since I’m basically the family priest these days, lay it on me.”
“I’m here for the pizza and beer.” I twisted the cap off mine and took a quick sip. “You know I can’t lie to you, so I figured I’d get it out of the way.”
Lips pressed together, he nodded.
“You sure I can’t help?”
He shook his head, slicing mushrooms so paper thin they were practically transparent.
It was such a Jude thing to do. He’d clearly mastered the art of the homemade pizza. He was like that, focused and fastidious. The total opposite of me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he was studying the Italian language in order to make the experience more authentic.
He might have been a bachelor, but he was anything but stereotypical. His house was a small cape north of town, near the mountains. It was pristine and looked nothing like one would expect the bachelor pad of a professional lumberjack to.
His refinished hardwood floors gleamed, and every window was adorned with a flower box overflowing with color.
His furniture was tasteful, and his walls were decorated with artwork. The spare bedroom housed several musical instruments, and his graphic novel collection took up one entire wall of his living room.
Jude had always been this way. He paid attention, and regardless of what he was doing, he gave it his all. It was why he was such a talented musician. As a kid, he’d stay up all night learning new chords on the battered acoustic guitar my mom had bought him at the pawnshop.
In many ways, I was jealous of him. He knew where he fit in this life. He did his job, and he had his hobbies, dog, and home. He was settled.
In contrast, I was deeply unsettled. I was the one who had a child to care for, yet I had no plan, no career, and no idea how I’d make it through the next few years, let alone a solid eighteen with Tess.
The thirty-four years I’d been on this earth had been spent chasing the next adventure, the next opportunity to be a hero.
I’d trained and drilled and traveled, chasing fires and good times.
I collected scars as I went, both physical and emotional. Being home, spending time with Jude, though he was my twin and my best friend, had made me realize that I would never fit the way he did. I’d never settle.
My brain wouldn’t quiet down enough to let me.
I’d always be itchy and chasing the next thing.
For the first time in my life, that terrified me.
Because I had more than myself to think about now. I had Tess.
Jude was pulling dough now. Rather than a rolling pin, he was using his hands.
“You look like a professional.”
He ignored the observation. “Why are you and Vic faking?”
With a long exhale, I dove into the details, though I kept it as brief as I could.
“Victoria is beloved around here. This town would rise up and chase her family off with pitchforks and torches if she asked them to.”
My chest tightened with affection for this place. If the people here had her back, then that elevated my opinion of the town where I was raised.
“That ex-husband of hers?” Jude laughed. “He should know better not to show his face in Lovewell. If the knitting ladies got wind he was here, shit.” He shook his head, scoffing. “His life would be in danger.”
I raised one eyebrow. “The knitting ladies?”
“Dude, you have no idea. Ask Cole. He’ll be here soon.”
“You should have seen her at her sister’s wedding. She was so jumpy and anxious. Like she was a completely different person. These people get under her skin. I gotta help her.”
Jude pinned me with a weary look. He’d lectured me many times about my hero complex.
“What would you have done?” I asked. “She helps with Tess. I care about her. And she asked me to be her fake boyfriend.”
“I would have agreed,” Jude said without hesitation. “Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, though.”
A whoosh of air escaped me. “See?”
“But,” he said, peering at me over his glasses. “Victoria is beautiful, kind, and generous. I can also see how easy it would be to fall in love with her.”
A thread of anger wound through me as he continued to speak about her.
“She’s fun and down-to-earth…”
My fists clenched of their own accord.
“And a bright spot in this town.”
My vision went red around the edges. “Are you in love with her?”
Jude tilted his head and gave me a look of sheer pity. “No,” he said slowly, “but you may want to consider whether you are.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. I’d do no such thing. She was my friend, and I loved spending time with her. But I didn’t get attached. I didn’t develop deep feelings. It wasn’t who I was.
She deserved someone steady, someone grounded. Like Jude.
And now my fists were clenched again.
Before I could tell him to take his suggestion and fuck off, Ripley scurried toward the door, barking.
Gus stepped inside, talking to the dog as he did, followed by Cole, who was holding a Tupperware container.
“Are those what I think they are?” I asked, my mouth already watering. Damn, it had been a long time since I’d had one of my mom’s salty-sweet, crumbly cookies.
He nodded. “Debbie taught me the secret recipe.”
Jude, who was hand-tearing mozzarella, nodded. “His are good.”
I reached out to grab the container, but Cole slapped my hand away. “Don’t be an animal.”
A laugh rumbled out of me. “What, you got married and magically acquired manners?”
He gave me an eye roll and bent down to scratch Ripley’s ears. Cole’s marriage had been about as big a surprise as my return to Lovewell with a baby. As big as discovering that Gus had an ex-wife. A woman who came back after twenty years as his enemy and was now the mother of his child.
It was still hard to believe. Cole, our wilder, reckless half brother, had married responsible, upstanding Doctor Willa Savard.
I’d missed so much. Luckily, Mom had insisted on babysitting tonight so I could catch up with my brothers.
Cole leaned over, his reach half the length of this house, and stole a slice of bell pepper.
Jude glared at him.
He shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
“You know I have a process,” my twin grumbled.
Gus cracked a beer and handed it to me, then opened a second and set it on the counter near Jude. But for reasons unknown to me, he skipped over Cole.
“You hit nine hundred yet?” he asked.
Jude didn’t look up from the dough. “Check.”
Gus sauntered over to the sliding glass door that led to a small patio and a tidy yard surrounded by dense pine forest.
I followed, curious about what he was checking. When I saw it, I was pretty sure my jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That pizza oven is massive. Where did it come from?”
The outdoor oven was dome-shaped and beautiful, with colorful blue tiles and storage for wood underneath.
Cole snorted as he filled a glass with water. “Owen.”
I looked at Gus. Cole was married to Owen’s fiancée’s best friend, and yet the two men did not get along.
“You know Owen. He gets obsessed.” Gus shrugged. “Lila’s got celiac disease, so Owen made it his mission to make the best gluten-free pizza on earth. During his search for the best pizza oven, he bought several. He gave the rejects away. I have a small one in my garage somewhere.”
“He’d bought half a dozen of them before he decided these models weren’t good enough,” Jude said, still expertly stretching the dough.
“So he flew some Italian artisan in to build an oven at his place in Boston. State-of-the-art, mosaic tiles from Tuscany. This guy is in his seventies and has been doing it since he was a kid.”
“Had to get a special permit from the city for the exhaust.” Cole rolled his eyes.
Gus let out a low, quiet chuckle. “Totally over-the-top. As usual.”
“The guy, Pasquale, stayed a month. He was great. He mentioned that he wanted to visit Maine, so Owen sent him up here. I showed him around, and we drove down the coast. Before he went home to Italy, he built this in my backyard as a thank-you.”
It was so Jude. He would befriend an elderly Italian stone mason. Just like Owen would fly in a senior citizen with decades of experience so he could make fancy pizza for his girlfriend.
Gus, our practical brother and the oldest, would surely think it was all absurd. He’d probably chop down a couple of trees and roast a whole cow over a fire for Chloe. And the woman would probably think that was romantic.