Page 8 of Necessary Time

I didn’t have it in me to argue. “Alright. Well, happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Colin gave a small nod.

I flicked my attention to Hendrix, whom I’d been meaning to talk to anyway. That was the entire reason I’d come down to have lunch with him in the first place.

“We’re having an apartment warming party next weekend. You’re invited.”

“Miles mentioned it.”

“Figures.” I let out a long exhale.

“Do you want us to bring anything?”

“No. But I’m sure you will anyway,” I said.

“So just tell me what you need for the house,” he countered, rolling his eyes.

“We don’t need anything. Grayson is loaded and has no impulse control.” I shrugged. It was true. Anything we even so much as talked about thinking about possibly maybe buying in the future ended up in the house less than two days later. “What I really want is, like, a guidebook to this city or something. It’s huge.”

Hendrix’s brows knit together, giving me an unwanted dose of sympathy. “I was lucky to have Miles show me around.”

“You barely had him show you anything,” Colin said with a laugh. He leaned back in the booth, eyes bright as they shifted from my brother to me and back again.

“You’re right.” Hendrix straightened up, pointing across the booth. “You were the one who gave me the suggestion, so maybe you can show Wes around town. Give him the whole favorite things rundown like you told me to have Miles do.”

“That was…that…that was a different circumstance,” Colin stammered.

“He doesn’t have to do that,” I told my brother. Then I told Colin, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It would be fun!”

“Henny,” I protested, taking a step away from the booth.

“At least a restaurant.”

“It’s fine.” I held my hands up in front of me, hoping the discomfort was as evident on my face as it felt in my body.

“Come on, Colin.” Hendrix gestured vaguely at his friend. “We’ve already taken him to Miles’s favorite place, and I’m sure Grayson has shown you his.”

“Rosetti’s,” I muttered, thinking about the Italian restaurant Grayson loved more than life.

“You need to add another place. He needs to add another place,” Hendrix said.

“I don’t even have a job,” I mumbled, trying to not think about the dwindling funds in my account.

“I’ll talk to Miles,” Hendrix offered.

“I don’t need a handout.”

“Not a handout,” he said, “just a hand up.”

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” I shoved my hands into my pockets, eager to get the hell out of the restaurant. I’d learned my lesson. No more lunch with Hendrix ever because, for as much as I used to tease him about being a weird old uncle and not a brother, he was really laying into it.

“No.”

“Miles is rubbing off on you,” I said.

“Rubbing off on him,” Colin muttered.