Page 46 of At First Smile

I follow Gillian to the kitchen towards the back of the house.

It’s not the red brick farmhouse that they’d lived in before their dad died, which Rowan drove me past before we came here.

Fiona moved into the two-bedroom townhouse after Finn bought his house five years ago.

By that time, Rowan was on his fourth or fifth new city and Gillian lived with his wife.

“Is this a dish you make at Fiona’s?” I mention his restaurant as I chop a stalk of celery.

Gillian stands at the stove, poking at the pans of ground lamb and beef. The sizzle hisses in my ears and the flavorful scent fills my nostrils.

“It’s an Irish pub, so shepherd’s pie is standard,” he mutters.

“Is it Irish only? I know Axel’s has some Swedish dishes in honor of your dad.”

“Just Irish.” His reply is curt.

Interesting. My stare jumps to him, but his back is toward me.

Focused back on the cutting board, I lift it and use the knife to slide the celery pieces into the bowl. “It’s not open today? Is that why you’re here cooking?”

“It’s open.”

“Finn says you’re a bit of a tyrant in the kitchen.”

“That he does.”

“I think he’s over-exaggerated your tyranny. I’ve been your sous chef for the last twenty minutes and I find you’re less tiger and more pussycat.”

He huffs a laugh.

“Who’s running Fiona’s while you’re here?”

“Layla.”

Oh. I wince.

Rowan may not be as close to Gillian as he is with Finn, but he is aware of Gillian’s complicated marital status. He’s shared that Gillian is staying with Finn because he’s separated from his wife Layla, his partner at the pub.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“So am I.” He sighs. “I see Finn told Rowan.”

“Yep.”

“Figures,” he mumbles.

“Rowan says your mom doesn’t know. Finn is keeping your secret from her.”

He lets out a hard breath. “It doesn’t matter. It will all come out soon enough.”

“Oh,” I say.

He grunts.

I grab an onion and start to chop. “My mom’s on her fifth husband. She’s been divorced three times.” Really, Pen?

“Five husbands? Three divorces? How does that math work?”

“My dad died. He was her first husband.” The pungent onion aroma awakens my tear ducts. The gathering tears are not about my dad.

“I didn’t know.”

“How would you?” I shrug. “Rowan and you aren’t really the chatty brothers.”

Again, he grunts.

“Case in point.”

“And you say your friend JoJo has no filter,” he scoffs with a teasing lilt.

Eyebrows lifted, my head tips his way. “Funny how somebody who isn’t your type left such an impression.”

“I didn’t…That’s not what I meant….” He lets out a long breath. “I’m not good with words.” He pivots and faces me. “Did I really hurt JoJo?”

“You did.”

“I am an asshole,” he murmurs, remorse radiating from his tone.

“I won’t disagree.” I offer a cheeky grin. “But I think your impact was only temporary. JoJo wears her feelings on her sleeve and by the next day she was back to her charmingly unfiltered self.”

“Good.” He nods. “Just another reason that I’m not her type.” It comes out as if it was only meant to be a thought and not something he’d meant to say out loud.

Her type? My brows shoot up.

He pulls something out from his back pocket and places it on the kitchen island beside the cutting board. “Would you mind giving her this?”

“What is it?”

“A letter.”

“You wrote her a letter?” I gape.

He raises his hand and coughs. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know... I just did.” He turns back to the stove.

Chopping the onion, my eyes drift to the envelope on the counter. “Is it an apology? Because I won’t take it to her if it’s just excuses?—”

“It’s an apology. I truly didn’t mean…what I said wasn’t what I meant. I’m just… I’m just sorry.” he says, softly.

“You should be.” I blink back the brimming tears from the onion’s sting. “I’ll give her the letter, though.”

“Thank you.” He puffs out a soft chuckle. “You’re feisty. Rowan needs a partner like you. Someone to keep him on his toes.”

“That’s funny.” It slips out without humor or thought.

“That Rowan needs someone to challenge him?”

“No, that you’ve written an apology letter to someone you met for sixty seconds but make no amends to your brother.” No, Pen! What are you doing?

“You don’t know me.”

Eyes closed, I decide that I’ve already stepped in it, so I may as well wade all the way into the murky waters. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I know your brother. Do you?”

His back remains rigid and turned toward me. He says nothing.

Swiping the chopped onions into the bowl, I continue my work as I speak, “Don’t feel so bad, he doesn’t know you either.” I discard the onion peel and wash my hands. “Do you want to know him?”

“Yes,” he croaks.

“Good, because he wants that too, even if he doesn’t act like it.” Tears drip down my cheek.

“It’s too?—”

“Don’t do that. You know better than anyone that we’re not promised tomorrow with the people we love. Do you love your brother?”

“Of course.” He spins to face me.

“Then it’s not too late. He’s in the other room. There’s time. I think you already live with regrets after losing one important man in your life.”

“You’re a tenacious little bit of a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

I swipe at my eyes and give him a watery smile. “Some say determined.”

“Shit! Did I make you cry?”

“No. Onions,” I sniffle-laugh as I grab a clean paper towel, lift up my glasses, and dab at my eyes.

“Pen? What’s wrong?” Rowan rushes into the room, his voice drips with concern as he pulls me into his arms. “What the fuck did you say to her, you bastard?”

“Rowan, no.” I yank myself from his hold. “It’s the onions.”

“He’s a bit overprotective, isn’t he?”

“Like an adorable pit bull.” I smile and place my hand on Rowan’s cheek.

“I think I adore you, Pen Meadows.”

“You’re growing on me, Gillian Iverson.”

“I’m sorry I overreacted.” Rowan takes my hand, raises it to his mouth, and presses a tender kiss to my palm.

“I know, baby. It’s been a rough few weeks, and we’ve both been on high alert, but I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

“Sorry, Gillian,” he mumbles.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright, it’s a start.” With a pat on Rowan’s cheek, I offer a hopeful smile. “I’m going to grab your mom and Finn to go for a walk while you help your brother in the kitchen.”

“ Excuse me ?” they say in unison.

I twist my gaze to Gillian. “It’s still today… Not yet tomorrow.” Turning back to Rowan, I press a gentle kiss against his lips. “I love you. You can be mad at me later for this.” Grabbing the letter from the counter, I leave the room.

“For what?” Rowan’s question drifts down the hall, but I don’t look back. It’s not my past that needs to be dealt with, it’s theirs. And I may be risking our future for it.