“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” I demand as Justin throws salmon into a pan filled a quarter of the way with chardonnay.

“I’m poaching fish. What does it look like?” he smirks, shaking dill weed over the two fillets.

“You’ve never cooked for me in your life.”

His eyes are bright as he laughs, “Well then it’s about time I did considering you always steal my food. This’ll make you owe me.”

“And that look on your face,” I shout, pointing at him and feeling like a detective. “You’re happy. Something’s happened. Tell me!”

His laugher falls to a secretive chuckle. “Nothing to tell. But I am getting a kick out of you being so suspicious. Broccoli or roasted carrots?”

I spin my baseball hat around on my head so that it’s backwards and I can see him better because this is a fucking miracle and I don’t want to miss a moment. “You’re gonna roast carrots for me and there is nothing goin’ on?!”

“Just wanna make sure my brother has a balanced meal.”

I cross my arms and snort, Jimi Hendrix shirt pulling across my muscles. “You hate eating with me.”

Turning for the fridge he produces both vegetables and mutters, “I eat with you all the time.”

“And you always say you hate it.”

“Because you steal my food!”

“You don’t eat it fast enough!”

It’s his turn to snort. “Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

A grin flashes on his face as he pokes the salmon around and slips the lid back over it. “Let’s watch Netflix.”

“Are you trying to get in my pants?”

He laughs, “Go put something on.”

“Okay, I’ll play along. But whenever you get the urge to come clean about the secrets and mischief in your eyes, I’ll be right over here with open ears.”

“Secrets and mischief? Thank God you don’t write the songs you produce.”

I make a wounded noise and head for the remote. The fifty-two-inch flat screen explodes in color and sound, images of the Netflix library flashing by as I search. “So you want a romantic comedy?”

“Yes,” he smirks. “Please give me a reason to punch you in the face.”

“Don’t touch my face. It’s finally healed.”

“I had a lot of explaining to do at the office,” he agrees, with a smile.

“You told me. I see you every day. Come up with some new stories.”

“Hey, I’m cooking for you for the first time. How much newness can your psyche take in one afternoon?”

Eying him I plop down onto the couch.

“You’re not going to help me?” he asks with fake innocence.

“I’m not falling into that trap. You wouldn’t let me help, fucking control freak, so don’t act all hurt.”

“You know me too well,” he mutters under his breath, focusing on slicing broccoli florets from their thick base.

The meal ends up being delicious, which I tell him by way of a couple big-eyebrow’d grunts as we watch Zoolander for the hundredth time. Today is the first I’ve laughed since I got home. Hanging out with him and watching a movie we still both find funny after all these years, is enough to make me forget my suspicion of his motives.

Until there’s a knock at the door.

Mid-laugh at something Ben Stiller says, I look over and notice Justin’s face. His laughter died at the interruption. He’s watching me with a look that says the secret is about to be revealed.

“What’s on the other side of that door?”

“Go and check,” he shrugs.

“Oh, you have no idea, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

“That’s not a whole no.”

Shoving me off the couch he rises up, too. “Just go answer it.”

My heartbeat picks up. For some reason I have a feeling this has something to do with Sarah. Justin’s peculiar behavior has a matchmaker vibe to it, and he knows I’ve been depressed since I decided to follow his advice and leave this touchy situation alone.

If she’s on the other side of this door, I’m going to kiss the bastard.

I glance back to Justin. He motions for me to get on with it. “Are you gonna fucking open the door or what?!” he whisper-yells.

Holy shit, I’m nervous.

Outside my warehouse loft I find Simone in the parking lot in front of me, standing centered between somewhere near twenty boys. The corners of my eyes tighten in surprise as I try to understand what is happening.

Then they start to sing.

I grab onto the doorframe as the choir perfectly supports Simone’s angelic voice, all of them singing Brenda Lee’s famous I’m Sorry. When they break into harmonies, the twinkling voices hitting every note to its highest potential, it is so beautiful goosebumps light up my chest and arms. As the voices slowly fade, Simone holds her arms out and walks to me. “Jason,” she smiles, looking the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her. “I’m sorry. I was a fool.”

Blinking, I let her wrap her arms around me. We have an audience and they’re all staring at us with smiling faces. Blown away by the romantic gesture, I hug her back and over her shoulder lock eyes with Sarah. Our gaze lingers. She raises her hand and waves with an awkward smile.

Simone releases me and my arms hang to the side I’m so stunned. “Jason, let me introduce you to the boys.”

Each one shakes my hand and I call Justin over to meet them. Two of the boys are twins and they get a kick out of seeing me and my brother together and all grown up.

“You’re not wearing matching clothes,” one says.

Justin says, loudly enough so their mom can hear, “No, we were taught to be our own men.”

She hears his message, face flushing. I throw him a look, taking the opportunity to glance to Sarah.

She’s watching me, her expression unreadable.

My concentration is interrupted by parents coming to meet me, overlapping voices explaining how much they love the song and can’t wait to have their sons be a part of something so fun.

I cock my head. “The song?”

“We saw it on YouTube.”

“Oh right! Yeah.” I glance to Simone. “It’s going to be great.”

Simone bounces a little, ecstatic I’m on board again, and I turn back to the parents because I’ve kinda been roped into something without the ability to say no.

But how could I turn down these talented kids? Music is my life. Their voices are pure magic, and this song is going to be fucking…

“Fantastic,” I whisper, lost in my thoughts as the parents ask if I know when we’ll be recording. “Um, let me look into my schedule and we’ll find a time that works for everyone. We’ll send over the lyrics right away.”

“I’m Mr. De Silva, the choir’s coordinator.”

“He’s more than that,” Simone smiles. “He’s their conductor!”

He has a nice, friendly face, and I offer him a grin, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. De Silva. You’ve done a great job.”

“You too,” he beams.

As he tells me something I can’t hear because I’m so distracted by wanting to talk to Sarah, I glance to where she was standing.

She’s not there anymore.

Simone touches my arm and tells him, “I’ll work with the boys and help them prepare before we go to Jason’s studio.”

After a few more questions, the parents gather their children and everyone heads to their cars.

Simone turns, “Justin. Thank you so much for helping.”

“No problem,” he mutters eyeing her.

When Simone’s eyelashes flutter to me, I ask, stupefied, “This was your idea?”

“Uh huh,” she smiles, eyes shining. “We’re going to get some food. You want to come?”

“Justin just cooked. I’m full. You guys go.”

I need a moment to process what just happened. Justin helped Simone? I never saw that coming.

Her smile falters with disappointment. “Okay. Can I come by later?”

I feel like I’ve been punched. She’s never asked to see me. It’s always me doing the chasing.

“Uh…”

A seductive grin appears and she bites her lower lip. I blink at her because I normally jump like a dog doing tricks for biscuits when she looked at me like this.

That old zing is no longer here.

But she can’t see that. “I’ll see you later then,” she smiles as if it’s been decided, turning on her heel and practically skipping toward a white Toyota. In the driver’s seat, faced away from me, is curly red hair.

Justin claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’re fucked.”

He goes inside and I follow, not wanting to get caught staring after the car.

“You knew about this?” I ask him.

“Not really. They asked me to make sure you were home.”

“They?”

He’s lost in thought and shakes his head. “I’m happy for you.”

His frown is sudden and leads me to believe otherwise. “You are? You don’t look happy.”

“I’m taking it in, Jason. Just like you. But yeah, I’m happy for you. I didn’t want you dropping the album.” I’m about to interrupt but he cuts me off. “It’s going to be big, Jase. It’s going to be fucking huge. That choir… that was brilliant on your part.” He heads for the hook where he hung his keys and adds a somber, “Have fun tonight.”

Frowning I mutter, “Yeah, thanks,” and go for the remote to turn the paused movie off. I’m not in the mood to finish it. Neither is he.

I’m lost in thought when I hear him say, “Jason?”

I glance over. “Yeah?”

He pauses, and his eyes drop to the floor. “Nothing. I’ll see ya.” He disappears, the door clicking behind him.