5. Gabriel
Gabriel
The outdoor fireplace on my deck crackles as Tristan, Reid, Dominic and I sit by the wet bar, watching Peyton splash in the shallow end of the swimming pool, inflatable pool floaties strapped to her arms. Each of us holds a cold beer, aside from Tristan, who opted for whiskey.
The doorbell chimes inside the house, and Peyton bursts out of the water, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Uncle Beckett!” she shouts, sprinting across the deck.
“Peyton, towel off before you go inside, please!” I call after her.
“Yeah, no chance of that happening.” Reid grins.
I sigh, getting to my feet. “I’ll go enforce it.”
I have a nanny for Peyton, but she’s only here during the hours when I’m at work. The rest of the time, it’s nice to be able to have my little girl to myself. Plus, when my brothers are over, there are four extra pairs of eyes to help watch the kiddo, which makes life a little easier.
These casual gatherings have been getting more and more frequent lately, ever since our father’s death.
The five of us are closer now than we’ve been in a long time—maybe closer than we’ve been in our whole lives.
It’s been nice. A little strange, but also surprisingly natural, like we’re finally settling into roles we’ve long avoided.
In the foyer, Peyton grasps the door handle and swings the door open, and Beckett beams down at her from the other side.
“Looks like someone’s been swimming!” he exclaims. Peyton giggles in response.
“Not so much swimming as splashing,” I reply dryly. “Hope you didn’t wear anything that can’t get wet.”
“Ah, I’ll be fine. I won’t melt. See, watch this.” Beckett lets out an exaggerated roar and swoops into the house, snatching up Peyton, who shrieks in delight. He lifts my daughter and carries her back toward the deck. “Quick! We have to get this little fish back into the water!”
Grinning despite myself, I follow the sound of Peyton’s laughter out to the poolside.
I watch as Beckett tosses her carefully into the water, and she splashes around in a crude imitation of swimming.
I’ve gotten her lessons, and although she’s made good progress and gained a lot more confidence in the water, floaties are still a must.
“Hey, Beck,” Reid says, raising his beer bottle. “You’re late.”
Beckett waves a hand dismissively. “No such thing as late. We’re not at work.”
I huff a laugh at that. Beckett is secretly the hardest working one out of all of us, although I’m not sure even he realizes that. He would never show up late to the office, but in his personal life—as much as he allows himself to have one—he’s much more easygoing.
“Tell that to Tristan,” Dominic mutters. “He’s spent the past half hour bitching about FlashUp.”
“Not my fault,” Tristan says, swirling the caramel liquid around in his whiskey glass. “If FlashUp wasn’t such a nightmare, I wouldn’t be thinking about it, and we could talk about something else.”
“In fairness, he’s not the only one getting gray hairs over FlashUp,” I mutter, taking my seat at the bar. “What a fucking mess.”
“Yeah, but if he has to talk shop, can’t he talk about something more interesting?” Dominic responds. “His wife’s film is wrapping on set.”
“That’s true,” Beckett says, perking up. “How’s Chloe doing?”
Tristan put creative control of Warbler Studios’ first feature-length movie in Chloe’s hands after learning about her talent for filmmaking. A few of us were worried about that choice—until Tristan showed us some of Chloe’s work. She’s going to be a star.
“She’s alright,” Tristan says, smiling the way he always does when Chloe comes up in conversation. “Working hard, but she doesn’t seem too stressed. I think she’s too busy to be nervous right now.”
“The movie is going well?”
He nods. “Seems to be, yeah. I’ve read the script, but I haven’t been around for too much of the shooting. I just want to let her run with it. I trust her instincts.”
“How’s everything else going with the film studio?” Reid asks. “Any major developments we should know about?”
Tristan leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “We’ve got a few projects lined up. We’re still working out the kinks on distribution deals, but it’s coming together. Honestly, though, the big focus right now is the film.”
Dominic groans. “Okay, seriously. No more work talk. It’s fine if you want to brag about your wife’s movie, but I don’t give a shit about distribution deals—”
“Language,” I say sharply, inclining my head toward Peyton in the pool. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have overheard. She’s gleefully smacking her small hands into the water, making ripples.
Dominic winces. “Oh, right. Sorry. I don’t give a… hoot.”
I snort a laugh through my nose. “Great. Fix it by sounding like a cartoon character.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Dominic protests. “I’m not good at watching my mouth around kids.”
“It does take some adjustment.” I glance fondly over at Peyton, who’s clinging to the metal railing on the pool’s steps, pretending to be an octopus.
“Hey, Pey,” Beckett calls, “what are you doing over there, kiddo?”
“She’s an octopus,” I tell him solemnly.
“Really? How do you know?”
“She’s been an octopus a lot lately. Sometimes even on dry land.”
Dominic gets to his feet, stretching his arms. “Well, someone tell that octopus to look out. There’s a shark coming into the water.” He shrugs off his shirt and paces toward the pool.
Peyton’s eyes go wide with excitement as she looks over at Dominic, who’s now making exaggerated “shark” gestures, holding his hands above his head like a fin. Reid decides to add in a little soundtrack, humming the main theme from Jaws as Dominic gets closer.
“A shark?” she squeals, clinging tighter to the railing. Her tiny legs kick up water as she tries to escape, but it’s all part of the game.
“Better swim fast, Octopus!” I call out, unable to hide my grin.
Peyton lets go of the railing and dog-paddles determinedly across the shallow end. Dominic circles closer, his “shark fin” still raised above his head as he wades into the water.
Beckett, never one to miss a chance to join in, flings off his own shirt and rushes to the water’s edge. He hurtles into the water in a cannonball, soaking the deck. Peyton giggles, bobbing in the water as Beckett pops up behind her.
“Not today, Shark!” he announces, swooping Peyton up out of the water amid peals of laughter. “This octopus is safe with me!”
Peyton cackles with joy, kicking her legs in the air. “No sharks allowed!”
I lean back in my chair, watching them play. It’s good to see her so happy, surrounded by my brothers. She’s the first child of her generation in the family and she gets all of the attention in the world.
“She’s been having a bit of a hard time at school lately,” I tell Tristan and Reid in an undertone, barely audible over the sound of laughter and splashing as Dominic launches his counterattack. “She’s been pretty shy with the other kids.”
“Really?” Reid’s eyes widen, and he glances at the pool, where Peyton is kicking waves of water into our brother’s face. “That’s… surprising.”
“Well, she’s not shy with you guys,” I point out. “She knows you and loves you. She’s comfortable around you. It’s new people and new kids that are tricky.”
Reid hums in understanding, and the three of us lapse into silence. In the water, Beckett joins Peyton in splashing Dominic. He splutters under their combined onslaught.
“Have you told her about the wedding yet?” Tristan asks, keeping his voice down.
I wince, a grimace twisting my face.
I haven’t. Truth be told, I’ve been trying my best not to think of the wedding at all.
It doesn’t seem responsible to dwell on it. Not when I’m unreasonably attracted to my bride-to-be. If I don’t think about it, I can keep that healthy distance between us. Once we’re sharing a house, it’s all going to become exponentially harder and more complicated.
She was so beautiful during our engagement shoot, the sea breeze playing with locks of her hair, the sun glinting off her bare shoulders. Being that close to her, in the intimate poses the photographer kept suggesting, affected me in ways I hadn’t been anticipating. Ways I’m not sure I liked.
Tristan and Reid are both looking at me expectantly, so I shake my head. “No. I haven’t had the chance.”
Reid huffs. “What do you mean, you haven’t had the chance? She’s six years old. She couldn’t pencil you in?”
I shoot him a glare. “No. I just… I don’t know how to explain it to her, you know? I’m getting married, which means one thing to a kid, but…”
“It’s transactional,” Tristan completes, nodding.
“Exactly.” I watch as Peyton jumps from Beckett’s arms onto Dominic’s head, tackling him under the water. “I have no idea how to explain this to her. What it all means.”
“Have you told her anything, or is it just going to be a surprise?” Reid asks.
“I told her that a lady is going to come live with us soon and that she’ll be staying for a while. She asked me if she was getting a new nanny, and I told her it’s not like that.”
Silence hangs over the three of us for a few moments. In the pool, Dominic comes up for air, gasping. He holds his arms up at head height, shaking water out of his eyes. “Alright, you win! I surrender!”
“I can’t believe our mother is doing this to us,” I growl under my breath.
“I know,” Reid breaks in. “It’s—”
“No, you don’t,” I interrupt, more brusquely than I intended. “It’s different for you. It would be one thing if she was just messing with my life, with my emotions. But she’s fucking with my kid. A child.”
Reid makes a face. He opens his mouth, then closes it.
“Sorry,” I sigh. What is wrong with me? Of all the people in the world, Reid is one of the most likely to actually understand how I’m feeling right now. We’re in similar situations, since he’s subject to the same terms of our father’s will that I am. “I didn’t mean to take that tone. It’s just…”
“It’s okay,” Reid says reassuringly. “I understand. You’re trying to look out for your kid, and she’s making that hard.”
I nod, my throat feeling tight. “Yeah.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Tristan chimes in, “Peyton’s going to be okay. Kids are resilient.”
“Plus, she’ll have her four uncles looking out for her,” says Reid. “We’ve always got her back.”
I offer the two of them a thin, tired, yet honest smile. “Thanks, guys.”
I hear splashing coming from the pool, then the patter of wet feet on polished wood. Peyton comes running over, with Dominic and Beckett trailing behind her.
“You had enough of the pool for today?” I scoop Peyton up, holding her with one arm.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Uncle Dominic didn’t want to keep playing.”
“Uncle Dominic got water up his nose, thanks to you two,” Dominic complains, grabbing a towel from a nearby deck chair.
“Ah, he deserved it,” Beckett says, and Peyton giggles.
“I’m going to start dinner,” I say, setting Peyton down on my now-vacant barstool. “Everyone good with burgers?”
There’s a chorus of agreement, and I turn toward the grill, which rests under the awning by the door. I hear Peyton chattering away to Dominic and Beckett behind me, still buzzing with energy from their swim.
I flip open the grill and fire it up. Then I head inside to grab the patties from the fridge. After a few minutes, the air on the deck is filled with the sound and smell of sizzling meat.
Peyton runs over with a little plastic cup of maraschino cherries, holding it up to me. “Do you want one?” she asks.
“Where’d you get those?” I ruffle her hair fondly.
“Uncle Tristan got them from the fridge,” she says, popping one of the sweet cherries into her mouth. “Do you want one, Daddy?”
“No thanks, Bug,” I tell her. “But thank you for offering. Don’t let Uncle Tristan give you any more of those, or you’ll spoil your dinner.”
She nods, grinning, and scuttles back over to the bar, hopping up onto Tristan’s lap. Without a doubt, she’s getting a cherry refill before the night is over.
With a fond sigh, I turn my attention back to the grill top, flipping over the burgers one by one. My heart feels tight as I think about how Peyton’s life is going to be upended by this marriage.
No matter what, I promise myself, I’ll make sure she’s okay.
Peyton comes first, before anything else. There isn’t room in my life for any distractions, any disruptions, or unnecessary risks. Peyton has already lost too much. And so have I.