“Do you have a second?” Ashton knocked on the door of Aaron’s office as she asked the question, knowing that the answer would be yes.

With Aaron, the answer was always yes. That’s just the kind of brother—the kind of man—he was.

“Sure thing, Little. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He laid his pen down atop a stack of papers on his desk and pushed back in his seat, his smile wide and welcoming.

God, she loved her brothers—she knew how lucky she was to have them both, and that was why she was here.

She needed sage advice and brotherly love. Which is what she told Aaron with her next breath. “I need advice—the kind Simon normally gives but since he’s out of town, I thought maybe you could help me instead.”

That earned her a laugh, the long-standing joke that Simon was the parental figure in their family being one that all three of the Andrews siblings enjoyed making.

“I’ll do my best, though I can’t guarantee that it’ll be as good as my husband’s.”

“You like saying that, don’t you?”

“My husband? Fuck yes, I do. Have you seen my husband? You’d want to claim him on the daily, too, if he were yours.”

She would, she didn’t bother to deny it. With his brilliant smile and his handsome good looks, Simon was a striking man. But it was the heart within that made him completely unforgettable.

And, sometimes, that’s what hurt most of all, when it came to their parents. That they would never know Simon, for stupid, closed-minded reasons.

When Ashton thought about what she would want for her baby when it was grown and looking for love, she thought of Simon. Of a person—man or woman, gay, straight or bi—to love them, care for them like Simon did for Aaron.

That was what she wanted for her baby. And that was part of the reason she was there, to talk to Aaron.

Because—“I’ve been dreaming about Mom.” She said it with no more lead-in, no more second-guessing. And maybe that wasn’t the right way to do it, but she didn’t care.

She needed her big brother.

“Okay. And?” Aaron’s face didn’t change. Like the lawyer he was, he collected the facts first, and then made his argument, no matter what the topic.

“I don’t know. She’s there and calling me a disgrace. And it hurts. Doesn’t it hurt still?” Tears formed in her eyes, but she made the effort to blink them back. For as hard as it had been for Ashton, what had happened with their parents was ten times worse for Aaron. She would take that pain from him and make it hers if she could.

“No.” He stood, and moved around his desk to where Ashton still stood, wrapping his arms around her. “For a long time, it did. But, Little, look at us. Look at this life we have.”

She turned her cheek so it rested over his steady heart, and waited for him to continue.

“They were wrong, Ash. They were. Not me. Not you. Definitely not Simon—I’m convinced the man doesn’t know how to be wrong.” A gentle laugh at his joke, then more words of wisdom. “You’re not a disgrace just because you’re having a baby, and I’m not a disgrace because I love a man. That’s on them. And I know you know that, so what’s this really about?”

She paused, unsure whether to admit the rest, but he wasn’t fooled. “Ashton, if you say anything other than ‘your best friend,’ then we are going to have words. You can’t lie to me—and you can’t leave me out of the loop, either.”

“Duncan.” His name was shaky on her lips, perhaps because her resolve was shaky in her heart. She didn’t know; that’s why she needed Aaron.

“I knew it. He told me that he and you . . . that you”—he leaned back from their on-going hug to wiggle his eyebrows at her—“you know.”

“Is it a mistake?”

“Is what a mistake?”

“I don’t know. Having this baby. Trying to start something with him after so long. Everything. Anything. Take your pick.”

Instead of giving her an answer immediately, Aaron guided her to sit on one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk, taking the other once she was settled. Only then, did he answer, “No. Nothing you’re doing is a mistake, and I know you know that.”

She went to defend her doubts, but he held up a hand, and continued, “I know you—I know you would have planned this baby down to the last detail. And as for Dunk, do you remember about, what, eight or nine years ago, you talked to him?”

Ashton’s chin lifted, her eyes rolling upward as if in search of the memory. And when she found it, she let it take her away.

Eight Years Ago

“Where’s Nathan in all this?” Aaron grumbled, his knuckles white against the creamy yellow of her sofa. “You’re moving into his fucking place, and he’s not here to help?”

“Aaron,” Simon cautioned, looking for all the world like carrying a heavy sofa was nothing more taxing that carrying a watermelon.

“What, I know you’re thinking the same thing, you’re just too nice to say it. I, on the other hand, am not too nice.”

Ashton rolled her eyes as she directed them into the spare room of Nathan’s spacious apartment, which would house some of her extra furniture until she decided what to do with it. “I told you, he got called away.”

“Convenient,” he muttered under his breath, making Ashton laugh. “I’m hungry. Are we done yet?”

“No, but how about you take a break, princess, and go grab us something to eat. My treat,” she added, before leaving the room in search of her purse.

Five minutes later, with Aaron and Simon off in search of “something expensive” since Ashton was paying, the ringing of a phone in the other room stole her attention from unpacking her clothes.

She located her phone and swiped the screen, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? A, is that you?” she asked, starting to pull the phone back to see if she recognized the number.

“Kitten?” His voice was warm and hit her like a ton of bricks. “Why are you answering your brother’s phone?”

“Oh–I–Duncan?”

“The one and only. You didn’t answer my question though.”

“He’s out getting lunch, and I guess–I guess I just assumed it was mine. I was unpack–just, you know, away with the fairies. Not like actual fairies, though, because as cool as it would be for Tinker Bell to exist, they aren’t real. But you know that, don’t you? What am I saying, of course you do.”

Oh. My. God.

His laugh was rich, and though it was entirely possible he was laughing at her ridiculous ramble, she couldn’t help but add her giggle to the mix. “I’m so sorry. You have a way of bringing the worst out in me.”

“Not the worst, Kitten. The best.”

That made her giggle end abruptly, replaced by a tingle in the pit of her stomach and a smile that verily stretched from ear-to-ear.

It had been years since she’d seen him, yet he still had a way of making her entire personality change. He still had a way of making her want.

She had no clue what to say, not wanting to spew words on him again, but wanting to cling to this phone call for some reason she couldn’t—didn’t want to—name.

“Wait, hold”—his voice became muffled, the sounds of shifting in her ear telling her that he’d moved to cover the speaker—“Ashton?”

“I’m here.”

“I have to go, which . . . Fuck, it’s terrible timing. I’d have liked to talk to you properly, Kitten.”

He sounded so genuinely remorseful that she couldn’t help her pout. Thank God he couldn’t see her acting so. “Maybe another time,” she offered instead.

“I’d like that. Will you tell Aaron I called?”

She nodded, adding “yes” when she remembered he couldn’t see her.

Which was a shame.

Because, for some strange reason, all she wanted in that moment—when she should have been thinking on her excitement about moving in with her boyfriend—was for Duncan to see her. Really see her.

Present Day

“I remember,” she told Aaron, the feeling of that want so real it could have been eight seconds ago, not eight years, that she’d experienced it.

“He called me later that night. He’d had to go because Kennedy’s appointment had been called, but he wanted to ask me about you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, Kitten, he did.” He smirked at her, using Duncan’s nickname for her as if there was some point she was missing. “You seem to be thinking that this is all a little much, but from my point of view? This is something that’s been happening for a long, long time. Just . . . take it easy, okay? Forget about Mom and Dad, and about what they think. You can’t change them—only your reaction to them. Which, for the record, should be nil, because they’ve been out of our lives for too long to be a problem now, got it?”

She nodded, because he was right. But she still needed to ask him about Duncan. She needed to know what he thought about—“Dunk? We’ve been–I mean, I’ve been talking to him and texting him, and he’s coming back here.”

“I can’t tell you what’s right or wrong there. All I know is that this isn’t just something that’s popped up from nowhere. You two have been circling this for a long time. Maybe not consciously, but still . . . If it feels right, then it’s worth exploring. Doubts be damned. Do you think I’d have landed Simon if I doubted myself? No way. Have you seen him?!”

Ashton’s laugh doubled as an exhale of relief. Aaron was right—not just about landing Simon, but about Duncan, too.

She’d let it happen. See where it went.

Until he came back, she’d keep talking to him and texting him, and just plain not worry.

Not worry about her mom or Duncan or having a baby alone.

She’d enjoy it. Because that’s what she wanted to do.

Ashton: Can you talk a second?

Duncan: I can. I can also talk for longer periods.

Duncan: In fact, I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been known to talk for upwards of an hour during a presentation.

Ashton: *surprised face emoji*

Duncan: Calm down, calm down. I know you want me right now, but you’re just going to have to be patient.

Ashton: Damn, so disappointing.

Ashton: But seriously, can you talk?

Duncan didn’t reply to the last text, instead bringing up Ashton’s number and hitting call.

“Hello?”

“I can talk. I’m doing it right now. Are you impressed?”

Her laugh was light and just hearing it—hearing her voice—made his day that much better.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he said when she didn’t reply.

“Yes, I’m so impressed. You and your big, strong, manly vocal cords.” She let out a breathy, exaggerated sigh, which probably shouldn’t have made his dick twitch, but, well, it did.

Not that she needed to know that.

“So, Kitten, what can I do you for today?”

“Do you remember talking to me one day, like eight years ago?”

Yes, Kitten. I do. I remember wanting to ask you what you were doing with that dickwad Nathan. I remember thinking about you for days afterward. I remember getting hard at night, thinking about the way you giggled in my ear.

I remember telling myself not to call you again, because you had a boyfriend, and I had responsibilities.

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“I don’t know, I just . . . I was talking to Aaron about it, and—”

“And what?”

“You know, that night was my first night in that apartment with Nathan. I was moving in that day, and Aaron and Simon were helping me.”

I know, I hated hearing that. “Aaron told me that.” I wanted to come rescue you, and I didn’t really understand why. I just knew I wanted to.

“That night was the last night I had popcorn and magic shell.”

“I–what?” He shook his head to try to see the connection, but nothing came to him. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, that night, when Nathan got home from work, we had a movie night.” There was a hint of guilt in her tone, like she was admitting something she shouldn’t be.

He didn’t care. He just wanted to know more. “And?”

“I made your salty chocolate snack. Like you taught me.” She laughed, the guilt slipping momentarily, before she continued, “I went out to the store after Aaron and Simon left and bought the microwave popcorn and magic shell specifically. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Ash—”

“Is that bad? That I made your movie night snack with him? Why do I feel bad?”

“Don’t. Kitten, don’t feel bad.” He decided to do some confessing of his own. “I thought about you, too. A lot, after that.” More than you’ll ever know.

“You did?”

“Of course. It was—after you left, to go home to your parents that week—I always thought I’d see you again soon. But it didn’t happen. And I was pissed.”

“I wanted to come back,” she whispered, though to his ears, it sounded like a shout. “But I couldn’t.”

“I know.” And he did know. Her life was in chaos, and the further into the year it got, the less time Duncan himself had to think about it, about her.

About what could have been if time hadn’t been against them.

“He hated it,” she said, not explaining but not needing to.

“I think we can agree he”—Nathan, that dickless wonder—“wasn’t the brightest star in the sky.”

“He cheated on me.”

“I wouldn’t. Did you know that? Do you know that?” I would have to been a fool to even consider it.

“I think I do.” Another whisper that may as well have been broadcast through a megaphone. “No, I do. I do know that.”

Silence descended on the conversation, the two of them just listening to the other breathe, the moment heavy but also . . . somehow light.

“Wanna know something?” he finally asked, not wanting to lose this connection.

“Sure.”

“I haven’t had chocolate popcorn since then. Since you left that week.”

“What? It was your favorite.”

“It reminded me of you.”

“So, what do you snack on during movies now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, smiling at how easily they shifted back to the breezy banter he so enjoyed.

“I would, actually. I really would.”

“Then add it to the list of things we need to catch up on when I get back there, Kitten.”