Page 32 of Stolen Vows

“I need your help.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a low chuckle. “Sure thing, bro.”

A sigh heaves its way out of my chest, and I rub the back of my neck. “It’s more of a question, really.”

“Alright. I’m up, hit me with it.” His voice is dry, but there’s humor in it too.

I clear my throat, already feeling the sticky tang of regret. But it’s too late now. “What would you bring to a celebration?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “A celebration? Like a birthday party? Whose birthday did you get invited to, but I didn’t?”

I roll my eyes. “No, not a birthday party. A grand opening.”

“Whose grand opening?”

I exhale sharply. “Are you going to tell me what I should bring or not?”

He huffs a laugh. “This is because Mom always saysnever show up empty-handed, isn’t it?”

“It might be.”

“You’re being weirder than usual. Can you just tell me what’s going on without all the cryptic shit? And why the hell is it happening at seven o’clock in the morning?”

I grunt, my lip curling up. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Beau hums a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. It’s easy, bro. What does she like?”

I hesitate a second. “I’m not sure.”

Beau exhales, muttering something under his breath. “Okay, well, go the generic route then. How about dessert? Maybe bring her a cake or something.”

My brows pull together. “A cake?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, a fucking cake, bro. How many times have you heard Cora tell us about all the work she gets from dudes buying custom-ordered shit for their girlfriends?—”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I cut him off. Girlfriend feels too small for the complex emotions Francesca evokes inside of me. And at this point, it could be entirely one-sided, something a solitary man created in his mind to smooth the sharp edges of loneliness.

“Ha! I knew it was a woman.” He laughs.

I roll my eyes and continue walking around my office. The back of my neck feels hot. “Whatever. Let’s move on.”

Beau snorts. “I’m just saying, I think I’d know if you suddenly started dating someone. We share a fucking house, for Christ’s sake.”

“Speaking of which, it’s your turn to clean.”

“Bullshit. I cleaned last week. It’s definitely your turn.”

“This is why we have the agreement.” I shake my head. “It’s taped to the fridge, so we both can see it.” Truthfully, we don’t even use the shared apartment all that often, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be cleaned.

Beau groans. “Yeah, yeah, okay,Dad. I’ll check it when I have a chance. Good luck on getting a cake for your non-girlfriend.”

I ignore the dig. “What’s even open at this time of day?”

“Dude, just call Cora.”

That gives me pause. Coraline is a few years younger than Beau, and even though there’s a larger age gap between me and our youngest sister, Abby, it’s Cora that I have the least relationship with.

There’s no bad blood. Nothing that’s ever gone awry. It’s just . . . we don’t always understand each other.

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