Chapter Four
My brother Ryerson recently bought a house with his fiancé in a really charming historic neighborhood. I haven’t been there yet, but I know it’s going to be amazing. All of the houses he works on are.
Kinsey indeed declined the invitation, so I have a car service drop me off. My other brother, Porter, will be there, and he’s a cop. I’m not about to try to drive home after a drink or seven.
I definitely need a drink.
I haven’t heard from Isaac, which is to be expected. He knew I had to work, and that I didn’t have time for dinner tonight. But maybe another night. He’s only in town for a few months anyway, and then I’m sure he’ll go back to Scottsdale with his family.
The car pulls up, and I smile when I see Ryerson’s house. It’s just a pretty as I imagined it would be. There are a few cars parked out front, but otherwise the entire affair is intimate.
Ryerson is near the door when I walk in, and his dog Rufus jumps up and runs at me, stopping just in time to knock into me, but not knock me over. I love him, so I scratch his ears and he trots away happy.
My brother smiles at me, and I tell him he looks well. It’s no surprise that domestic life suits Ry. He’s never had a flare for drama—he sees things very simply. Wrong and right.
He shows me around the place with a quick spin, and I say hello to a few of the guests while Ry grabs me a beer. I meet him again in his beautiful kitchen, and he nods toward the study.
“That’s Cheyenne,” he says simply, but his voice is dripping with pride.
Turns out she’s even prettier in person. Kind of short with wild blond curls, sky-high red heels and a summer dress with a cherry pattern. She looks loud and crazy, but in the most adorable way possible. I instantly like her.
“Why is she with you?” I ask Ry, looking sideways at him as I sip from my beer. He laughs.
“My winning personality,” he offers. “Oh, and she loves my dog.”
“Everyone loves your dog.”
He sniffs that it’s true, still watching Cheyenne. He smiles. “She’s perfect though, right?” he asks softly, and I swear, my heart melts.
“You did good, brother,” I say, knocking my beer into his and making the glass clink.
The front door opens and Porter walks in, a tall beauty on his arm. Now Zoey, I know. I grin, and immediately head in her direction.
My brother Porter is a police officer in town, and happens to be one the most decent guys I know. He towers over me as he gives me a hug, crushing my head against his massive chest. When he lets me go, I turn to Zoey and we give each other a quick kiss on the cheek.
I love Zoey. She’s hilarious and inappropriate ninety percent of the time. She’s kind of the opposite of Porter, at least, when he’s Officer Banks. But we went out on his boat a few weeks ago, and Zoey jumped into the lake from the top deck and had to be rescued after nearly drowning. Rather than be embarrassed, she laughed, and made us all drink a beer in honor of her third near death experience.
“Hey, lady,” she says to me. “How’s the bar? Porter and I are going to come by for dinner and drinks this week.”
“Cool,” I say. “I just added some more fried food to the menu, so…”
“So you’re an angel from heaven?” she suggests.
“Exactly.”
She laughs, and then Porter leans over and says something quietly to her. “Sure,” Zoey says to him, and then turns to me. “We’re going to grab drinks. See you in a bit?”
I nod, and they go into the kitchen, chatting with Ry near the sink. I survey the house, pretty proud of what my brothers have accomplished. Successful careers, successful relationships. I was definitely falling behind in the sibling wars.
“Hi,” a cute voice sings out, and Cheyenne appears in front of me, biting on her lip, looking nervous. “I’m Cheyenne,” she adds, holding out her hand.
“Oh, hi. Phoebe.” We shake, and I note the very large rock on her ring finger. Ryerson has excellent taste.
I give Cheyenne a once over, and she’s just as gorgeous up close, but I do note a little heaviness under her eyes. Skin a little pale. She must be sick.
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “If you like sweet things, I made a pineapple upside down cake.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever had that before,” I tell her. “But I’m sure it’s delicious.”
She beams, and leads me toward the kitchen. Rufus follows dutifully after her, like he’s her personal protection. Cheyenne cuts me a massive slice of cake, but declines any for herself, her brow furrowed. She watches me eat it, and I realize she’s waiting for my opinion.
“It’s good,” I say, and she blows out a breath. The rest of the guests have filtered into the living room, getting a grand tour while Cheyenne and I stay in the kitchen.
Without me asking, she grabs me another beer, and opens it for me. She seems a bit nervous, and I think it’s me until I realize she’s dying to tell me something. It must be the bartender in me, because I lean across the counter, elbows on the marble, and smile.
“Tell me everything,” I say.
+++
Ry and the others come back a while later, and I’m already on my third beer, Cheyenne perched on a stool, sipping a Sprite. She ended up taking a few bites of my cake when I couldn’t finish it.
The second Ryerson comes into the room, Cheyenne lights up and immediately goes over to him.
Still mid-conversation with Porter, Ry puts his arm around Cheyenne, finishing his sentence, before leaning down to kiss her. He licks his lips. “Mm… pineapple,” he says, and kisses her again.
“Gross,” I murmur, just to embarrass him. He laughs, and glances over at me with exaggerated annoyance.
“I finally met your sister,” Cheyenne says brightly, smiling. Ry looks at me, then his girl, then me again.
“Fuck,” he says, and turns to me. “What did she tell you?” he asks.
I try to look innocent. “No idea what you mean.”
“You pry,” he says pointing at me. “And she overshares.” He points at Cheyenne. “I just want to know what sort of misery I’m in for.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Cheyenne says, draping her arms over his shoulders and getting up on the tips of high heels to kiss him.
He lets her, but doesn’t look convinced. He shouldn’t be. In fifteen minutes, his fiancée gave me enough material to embarrass him for years.
It’s a short while later when the party begins to wind down, and like every time we hang out, it ends up with me and my brothers, beers, and a patio.
Ryerson, Porter, and I sit on the back patio, the fire pit crackling. Zoey left early for work-related sleeping, and Cheyenne wasn’t feeling well so she went to bed. She threw up in the bathroom, and actually asked me to hold back her hair—which I did because I’m a good person, but I also think she’s way too trusting. She doesn’t even know me. I find it a little endearing, though. Small towns.
“I’ll be honest,” I say to Ryerson as he leans over to grab a fresh beer out of the cooler. “I never took you for the type who cries after sex.”
“Holy shit,” Porter says, and then laughs loudly, the sound booming through the yard. The dog lifts his head from near the door, but then drops it gruffly on his paws.
Ryerson doesn’t react at all, just sits back down in his chair and pops the top on his beer, taking a long sip. After a moment, he turns to me, his cheeks a little red.
“You’re an evil person, Phoebe,” he says seriously. “Stay away from my sweet girl.”
I laugh, and Porter asks embarrassing follow-up questions, which Ryerson refuses to answer. The three of us are especially close, and pretty much share most of our secrets anyway. Although Porter’s the police officer, Ry has always taken care of us. Looked out for us. We love him.
I lean forward in my chair, glancing back at the house once. “When were you planning on telling us?” I ask, my voice low.
“Telling you what?” he asks. “To fuck off?”
“Nope. About Cheyenne. She mentioned something about a washing machine, not being—” I use air quotes. “careful enough.”
“Good Christ,” he murmurs.
“How far along is she?” I ask.
“What?” Porter asks, wide-eyed. “She’s pregnant?”
Ryerson looks at the house, the lights all off. “Yeah,” he says in a hushed voice. “We were waiting until she was farther along before we announced it. Should have figured you’d find out,” he says, looking sideways at me.
But there is a bit of glassiness in his eyes, pride. And all of the sudden, the humor of the conversation is gone. I feel myself welling up. Ryerson Banks, finally getting the family he deserves. Getting to be a dad.
“Congratulations,” Porter says, and he looks about ready to weep. There was a time when none of us thought Ry would make much of his life. Turns out, he’s got his shit together.
“Thank you,” Ryerson says, sniffling once before drinking his beer. “And by the way,” he adds, jabbing his finger into the air, “I do not cry during sex. Like, maybe once ever,” he allows, and then smiles at us.
“Zoey cries sometimes,” Porter says conversationally. Then he grins, “Cries out like, “Oh, Porter!” he moans in a high-pitched whisper. “You’re a god!”
“Ew…” I say, laughing so hard I spill my beer. The dog trots over to try to lick it out the dirt, but Ryerson shoos him away, and throws a toy for him.
“Don’t know how either of you settled down, but okay,” I say.
“Maybe you should use us as an example,” Porter suggests.
“Can’t,” I say. “You two took the best girls in town.”
“That is true. But…” Porter says, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee. “I may have heard some chatter.”
“I hope you’re kidding,” I say.
“It’s a small town,” Ryerson interjects.
“What did you hear?” I ask.
“He’s a nice kid,” Porter says, watching the fire. “Isaac? He volunteered at the library a few times. Works in the prosecutor’s office, too.” Porter smiles at me. “He’s not a piece of shit, is what I’m saying.”
“Pheebs has a boyfriend?” Ryerson asks, a new spark in his expression. “You have a boyfriend?” he says in the most annoying voice possible. “Where is he? I want to meet him.”
“First,” I say, holding up my hand. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s a guy I met a few times.”
Porter rolls his eyes, obviously hearing more than that. I wonder who Kinsey’s been talking to.
“Second, you’ll never meet him because he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Okay,” Ry says, exchanging a glance with Porter. They both nod. I hated having so many brothers sometimes. At the least the other two stay out of my business.
My phone buzzes, and before I check it, I take it as my cue to leave. “I should go,” I say, standing up. “You’ll come by the bar this week?” I ask Porter, and he nods that he will. I give him a quick hug goodbye, and Ryerson walks me out while I text for a car to pick me up.
“Your house is beautiful,” I tell him as I wait at the door. “And your life.”
“Thanks, sis,” he says with a flash of a smile. “I got lucky.”
And he did, but he deserved it.
“Still can’t believe you’re going to be a dad,” I whisper, glancing toward the bedrooms. He laughs and says he can’t either.
“You sure you’re doing okay?” Ry asks, a bit of concern in his expression. “I was only messing with you about the boyfriend stuff, but if you really like this guy…”
“It’s nothing,” I say.
He watches me a moment. “Now I know you like him.”
The car arrives and I give Ry a hug, and leave the house.
My phone buzzes again, and I check to see who’s been texting. I sit in the car, and when I find that it’s Isaac, I’m a little stunned.
I know it’s late, he texted first. And then when I didn’t answer, he followed it up with, If you want to come by… along with his address.
I’ll admit, I’m tempted. And not just to have sex. I… sort of want to lie in bed with him. More hugging. What was wrong with me?
“Change of plans,” I tell the driver. And I give him Isaac’s address.