Page 90 of Single Dad Dilemma
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m used to being alone.”
And then she turned and walked into the house. I stood rooted in place, then looked up at the sky and, for a moment, simply watched it snow.
Chapter Twenty-One
Barrett
The leftover pizza had been put away; my parents and Ruby were on the couch, watching the meteorologist make dramatic sweeping gestures with his arms—a lake-effect system was moving in just after they were set to take off with the kids the next day—and me and my brother were locked in a battle of Scrabble, with my innocent children reluctantly taking part.
Maggie and I leaned our heads together so Bryce and Griffin couldn’t hear.
“I have an idea,” she whispered, pointing to our opponents’ last move, a craftily placedwaterhen.
The validity had been challenged, my brother issuing a smug grin when it was upheld.
“Whatcha thinking?” I asked her.
Maggie tapped theqon our tile holder, then thet.
I gave her an unamused look. “On principle, I’m not sure I can use that.”
She giggled, then sent a mock glare at her uncle when he leaned in and pretended to listen. She cupped her hand over my ear. “Do you want to win or not?” she whispered. When she pulled back, her eyes widened meaningfully.
I did.
I really did.
“Fine,” I murmured quietly. Maggie sat back with a smirk, and I nudged her under the table. “Poker face,” I instructed.
Her expression smoothed out immediately, and we waited patiently for Bryce and Griffin to make their next move. As long as they didn’t touchwaterhen, we’d win.
I’d also have to eat major crow, but we’d win.
Dinner had been fine. The addition of my parents, plus Ruby and the kids, meant that my brother and I hadn’t really had much occasion to talk. Certainly not by ourselves.
Before I set the tiles down, I looked at the board again, then up at my younger-by-two-minutes brother.
He raised a challenging brow, and I couldn’t help but wonder how on earth people ever got us confused. To me, he looked so different. It was the slightest difference in the slope of his jaw. Something in the shape of his eyes. Griffin always needed to shave, and today was no different; the dark stubble on his jawline was thicker than mine usually was.
I ran a hand over my own jaw. I hadn’t shaved in two days, and I supposed it was possible I looked just a bit more like him. As much tension as our relationship had held over the last decade, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see the difference in my brother now.
He was happier. Lighter. Undeniably settled.
Throughout the evening, he’d found his way back to Ruby’s side, tucking the petite woman under his arm, leaning down for a kiss when he thought no one was looking. For the first time in his life, my restless, wild brother was at peace.
Jealousy knotted deep under my skin the longer I watched them together. I wasn’t jealous of his relationship with Ruby, per se. I was jealous that he knew what it felt like. A partnership in every sense of the word. No matter how different they were—and good Lord, were they different—they were evenly matched.
The jealousy didn’t eclipse my happiness for him. All I’d ever wanted was to see Griffin happy, even if I never quite knew how to go about it.
The curse of the oldest brother, I supposed. Which went hand in hand with the unshakable need to beat him in every single game we ever played for the rest of our lives.
Griffin said something to my son, who nodded, grabbing tiles as he leaned forward. Maggie and I held our breath, exhaling slowly as he built a different word elsewhere on the board. He counted the tiles.
“Seventeen points,” Bryce said.
Griffin wrote it down, then gave me a look. “You’re gonna lose. Might as well start your concession speech now.”
I elbowed Maggie lightly, and she made a happy sighing noise. “Read it and weep,” she said, placing theqon the triple-word score, and thetbelow theaofwaterhen.
