Page 152 of With a Cherry On Top

She tilts her head back to the late afternoon sky as if praying for patience. “I thought—ugh, I’m so sorry. It’s the sleep deprivation. I’m not even sure I’m awake right now.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Yeah? You look...” She squints, searching for the right word before finally giving up with a shrug.

“I’m just surprised. I figured he’d ask Kyle, or?—”

“You’re his brother,” she says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’snot.

I’m his brother, and I betrayed him. I hurt him. And he’s been hurting me ever since.

Our relationship has never been as bad as it is now, and the last real conversation we had ended with me telling him I was out. He called me a coward—someone he can’t trust. And now he wants me to be his best man? It makes no sense.

Her gaze turns warm. “You know I wasn’t your biggest fan for a while back there,” she admits. “But I also don’t think you should carry all this blame. So you fucked up. Big deal. Everyone fucks up once in a while. And Josie was there too, you know? She gets half the blame. Everyone keeps acting like you stole her from Logan, but she let herself be stolen. I dare you to do it with me and see what happens.”

“I’d much rather prefer he didn’t,” Logan’s voice cuts in.

He strides toward us, his assessing eyes locked onto mine. He moves behind Primrose, looping an arm around her waist and pressing a loud, exaggerated kiss to her cheek until she giggles. “Are you absolving my brother of his sins, Barbie?”

“Hm-mm. You should have done it already.” She taps his chest, then with one last look at me, disappears inside the house.

Logan leans against my car, crossing his arms. “So,” he says, voice measured. “What brings you into this neck of the woods?”

I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Mom asked me to bring these over.”

He grabs the cufflinks, smirking. He probably figured out just like I did that Mom used this cufflinks excuse to get us together. I guess that’s what I deserve for checking on her.

“Thanks.” He watches me with that piercing stare, the one that makes me feel like he’s peeling back layers, like he can see straight through me and all the tangled-up mess inside.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe I should have told Mom to bring him the cufflinks instead.

“Amelie offered me a job,” comes out in a breath.

He looks impressed. “Is she trying to poach you from her husband?”

“Oh, I think Ian’s been made aware. He’s physically incapable of saying no to his woman anyway.”

A hint of a smile on his lips. “That I get.”

Yeah, me too.

“So what’s the job?”

“Sous-chef.”

“Wow, that’s . . . that’s like the head chef’s right hand, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yes, I’d work right beside Amelie. She says I’m talented. Really believes it too.”

He shuffles his feet. “Well, congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” When he doesn’t add anything, I step back. “I’ll see you at the wedding then.”

“Aaron?”