Page 110 of Share with Me

Chapter Thirty-Five

Christmas Eve was here, and Ivan was ready. He slowly climbed out of the church van. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take too long,” Matt said from the driver’s seat. “Have a few more pickups to make before the service starts.”

Ivan walked up the marble steps to the Brooks cottage on Sea Island, pushed his sunglasses up above his head, and pressed the doorbell with his left thumb. It didn’t hurt too much, but that might be because of the pain reliever he’d taken. That might be also why he didn’t feel pain in his ribs when he breathed.

His right hand was in his barn jacket pocket, playing with a small gift box. A little surprise for Brinley. He had wrapped it himself. He hoped she liked it.

Nobody answered.

He pressed the doorbell again.Lord, please give me patience.

Now he was worried. Fortunately, before he could conjure up some silly ideas of the whys and wherefores, he heard the door click a couple of times and it opened.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” He stretched out his right hand. “You must be Brin’s brother. I’m Ivan McMillan. Nice to meet you.”

The man didn’t shake his hand, as if Ivan were carrying some sort of infectious disease.

“Is Brinley in?” Ivan started getting a bit concerned.

“She’s getting ready. I guess you can wait inside.”

“Thank you very much. Are you Dillon Brooks?”

“Since birth.”

“Whew. For a moment there I was wondering why a strange man was in Brin’s house.”

“Our parents’ cottage,” Dillon corrected him. He remained standing in the foyer surrounded by tall trees and an even taller staircase. “What do you want from my sister?”

“What do you mean?” Ivan felt the large foyer close in on him, the Christmas trees bending down and shaking their accusatory branches at him, contracting around his personal space.

“Don’t play coy.”

I should’ve waited in the truck.

Ivan wanted to walk out of the inquisition, but his legs were stuck there, rooted to the marble floor with the Brooks logo right in the center of the foyer that now seemed more like a rotunda of a courthouse to him. His scruffy shoes seemed out of place. He was not in his element and he knew that Brinley’s brother knew it.

He watched Dillon lean forward for the kill. “My sister and I are very different from each other.”

And I love her.

Ivan caught himself.What did I say?

“Brinley wants a simple life. Is that what she’s found in you? A simple man?”

“Uh, I—I don’t know.”

Wait a minute. What did he call me? A simple man? Or did he mean a simplistic man? Or a simpleton?

Ivan cleared his throat and prayed quickly. Brinley’s smile filled his thoughts. “Well, when two people fall in love—”

“She’s not in love with you, Jovan—Ivan—whatever your name is. She just thinks she is. She’s been attracted to every musician she came in contact with since she inherited her music collection from Grandpa Brooks.”

That can’t be true. I can’t believe that. None of her ex-boyfriends—

“But you’re the first one outside the family who has ever played a Strad she owns. Which you promptly lost. Do you see how suspicious that is?”

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