Chapter 10

Seated next to him at his kitchen table, Brooke stared at her brother with a mix of concern, confusion, and tenuously restrained annoyance.

After more than 30 years, Andrew was used to that expression. Some things hadn’t changed from when he was a little kid and she was a teenager — although now that she was closer to 50 than 40, she’d definitely gotten better at disguising her displeasure.

She had a shock of white in her stylish short hair, but not much else showed that she was 10 years older than Andrew — something he always marveled at. She was still tall, fit, still ran half marathons twice a year. She could run full marathons, but then she’d really have to focus on running as a whole thing, which she didn’t want to do.

But when she wanted to do something, there was absolutely nothing she couldn’t do. Brooke could always, it seemed to Andrew anyway, get the world to bend to her will — whether it was her unlucky opposition in a courtroom, Father Time, or, of course, Andrew. Which, all things considered, wasn’t that much of an accomplishment compared to the other two.

“Andrew,” she said with practiced patience, “don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you had me bring the papers over, but you know they haven’t changed in the past six months. So if you aren’t going to okay them ... why did I bring them?”

He reacted the same way as he had when he was a kid and she’d given him a look like she was giving him now — by looking down, giving a sheepish little half-smile and a shrug. “I just ... wanted to look at them again and like, you know ... get things moving, I guess. Baby steps, Brooke.”

She sighed, but with a smile that said, “what am I gonna do with you?” Andrew knew that look too, and it still made him smile innocently right back.

Brooke was the oldest of his three older sisters, and had always taken it upon herself to look out for her scrawny little brother while he was growing up. He wasn’t exactly scrawny anymore, but he was still her little brother, no matter how old they got. Andrew had found that annoying when he was younger. But now ... he was thankful for it.

He hadn’t even needed to ask her for help when things with Mallory fell apart. Brooke was there for him, ready to meticulously glue all his pieces back together until he could finally stand on his own again — and she had, along with Paul and Heather.

Something caught Brooke’s eye from the living room and she bent to the side, sticking out a welcoming hand.

“Heyyyy Da Vinci,” she said, her voice suddenly high-pitched and inviting. Andrew could see the cat stopping in his tracks, regretting coming out from beneath the couch now that he’d been spotted. He gave it another second and a few kissing noises from Brooke until he slunk back to safety.

She shook her head, disappointed at her latest diplomatic failure. “I’m gonna get that cat to love me if it’s the last thing I do, you just wait.” Andrew didn’t doubt her ... even if Da Vinci probably would have been skeptical.

“Well,” she said, switching from sister mode to attorney mode, “as I said, nothing has changed in the settlement proposal since the last revision six months ago. The bulk of the money from the house sale continues to sit in escrow until we get something signed saying who gets how much, but at least it’s accruing some interest in the meantime.”

He’d moved out of the house when he and Mallory separated three years ago. It wasn’t a place he would ever have been able to recover — not with the memories of their shared life lurking in every corner.

“Other than that,” she continued, “you don’t really have much in the way of shared assets, and no kids, obviously. Neither of you is looking for any kind of spousal support —” she coughed, an unsubtle reminder that she believed Andrew should be demanding exactly that since Mallory made far more money than he did — “so ... there’s really not a ton left to haggle over.”

Brooke eyed her brother, clearly still not exactly sure why he wanted to go over something that was relatively simple and hadn’t even changed from the last time he’d heard it.

“As usual, the only things holding this up,” she continued, raising the papers in her hand, “are you and Mallory. Seems like one month it’s her who’s suddenly completely unreachable or just dragging her feet — and if it’s not her, then it’s you.”

She stopped there, letting her unsaid question hang in the air.

Why aren’t you going to sign the papers and get this over with then?

Now it was Andrew’s turn to sigh.

“Yeah ... I know, Brooke.” His eyes drifted to the calendar on his kitchen wall behind her. Her kids had made it — pictures of things their family got up to that year flavored for each month — and given them out as Christmas stocking stuffers last year.

He looked back to his sister, whose sharp brown eyes were waiting patiently for him. She knew by this point that he liked to gather his thoughts, and that it took longer than it did for her. Maybe his thoughts just weren’t as orderly.

“Promise not to laugh?” he said, the makings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course. Not unless it’s really funny.” She smiled, but she’d always heard him out, no matter how stupid or embarrassing his problems.

“Part of me ... part of me still thinks she’s gonna turn up one day and say she misses me, and that she wants everything to get back to normal,” he said. Before she could cut in, he continued. “I know, I know that’s stupid.”

“No, no, I understand,” she said. Andrew didn’t think she really did, though. She hardly ever seemed conflicted about anything she did. Or at least that’s how it looked to him. “But ... another part of you is based in reality, right? And that part knows ... that’s not gonna happen?” She was trying to be gentle about it.

“Well, 70 percent of me is water,” he said, and she snorted.

“I was gonna say that, but I thought it would be too dickish!”

He laughed, then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“But ... yeah, I mean, I know in my head that’s stupid. That she won’t be coming back through that door, and even if she did ... I mean ... is that even something I would actually still want after all this time?”

She searched his eyes for an answer. He was hoping she’d find one, but knew better.

“Would you?” she asked hesitantly. Her tone sounded like she was bracing for the unequivocally wrong answer.

But he just shrugged.

“I really don’t know,” he said thoughtfully, turning his eyes from her to focus on nothing in particular. “Again, part of me would. Of course part of me would. I still love her Brooke,” he said, looking back into her eyes so she would know he meant it. Really meant it. “She was the love of my life, of course I still love her.”

His hand was resting on his knee, and she took it, holding it in hers lightly. Her fingers were bony and a little cold, but just as comforting as they’d been when he was a kid.

“You’ve got a lot of life left to live, little brother,” she said quietly, but with that air of wisdom she somehow could always give off in big-sister mode.

“Yeah.” He felt sheepish again. He knew logically that was true, but it didn’t feel that way. “I know, I know.”

They were quiet for a moment while she held his hand.

“I heard you saw her...?” she said gently.

He made a face, a little miffed, but not at her. “What the fuck, Paul!” he said, pulling his hand away. “Whatever happened to the bro code?” He shook his head in mock anger.

“Yeah ... I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Sorry.”

Andrew hadn’t really intended to tell her about seeing Mal at the nightclub. He didn’t want to get into how he reacted. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the texts.

“I heard it ... didn’t go well,” she said.

“It did not.”

She patted his hand again.

“Andrew, I know you’ve had so much trouble with this that it seems like you won’t ever move on — that this is a permanent state of affairs,” she said. And she was right. He looked up at her, hoping there was more to that thought. “But you will. I know you will.”

Now he searched her eyes for answers. How could she know that for sure? She’d never struggled to do something as basic as move on. She hardly seemed to struggle with anything, although he was sure she did. She had to.

But how can she really know what it’s like to be someone who’s ... not as strong as she is?

“How do you know?” he said, more quietly than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “Because, honestly? Brooke? I ... I don’t know anymore. I really don’t.”