Brothers of Paradise Series

“I can. This doesn’t change anything between us, Faye.”

Her hand flits over mine, fingers soft and warm against my skin. I want to pull her near, to remind her of the closeness we’d shared this weekend. Offer reassurance and be reassured in kind. But her eyes shutter, and she releases my hand.

“It does,” she whispers.

I watch as she walks away, cursing myself for not being better with words, for not knowing what to say, for a situation that’s somehow spun wildly out of my control. Yesterday morning, I had been happier than I’d been in years. Fate has a funny way of giving you a taste of something wonderful, only to wrench it away immediately.

Faye doesn’t answer my calls. One text comes in, two days after her resignation, asking for space. Space. Like we’ve had an argument, like we’re over.

So I give her space.

I fire Melissa from recruiting, who apparently gave Kyle the file after she read it herself. When she confessed to me, she admitted that she found it funny, and worth sharing, but hadn’t ever imagined that he’d use it for that. As if that was an excuse for violating confidentiality.

My lawyers call daily with updates on the slander suit. Apparently, Kyle had gotten a hold of the picture of Faye and me through someone’s public Facebook account, and it was considered fair game, but the application letter and the implication he made weren’t.

“We might not be able to get him on all these points in court,” my lawyer told me. “But we can make it painful for him to fight the allegations.”

I’d given them a very simple response. “Make it as painful as possible.”

The legal fees would be worth it-more than worth it-if it could discredit this thing. I see Faye’s face in front of me daily, the look in her eyes when she said how this made her feel, and I feel nothing but shame. She’s amazing, and smart, and strong, and talented… proud and funny. And this job, and us together, had somehow broken that spirit.

She still doesn’t answer when I call.

So I give her even more space, as one week turns into two. I go to the gym in the mornings. I sit through excruciating interviews with new assistants, but none of them are Faye, and none of them could be. It’s unfair of me to compare, and despite it, I see her in all of them. It serves no one.

I receive the new model for the opera house with the changes that Faye and I worked on. Curving steel, combined with thick timber. It’s gorgeous. It’s truly an abstract violin now. The shape flows beautifully, a ready-to-build monument. It’s the best piece I’ve ever designed, and it’s better because of Faye.

The longer I look at it, the clearer the touches she added become. The beam at the bottom. The increased stage space. Her specific ideas were never mere additions; they were fundamental. They altered it entirely, making it stronger. Some of the changes were a combined effort. I remember when we discussed the curve on the outer beams-we had both been excited, referencing some of the early ’20s work in Manhattan as our inspiration-and sketched it out together.

She’s not a junior architect on this project. She’s an executive. And that’s the way I credit her, when I submit the application. Architects: Henry Marchand and Faye Alvarez.

On the third week post-Faye, I drive to Paradise Shores for the weekend. Lily and Hayden are back from their honeymoon and both Rhys and Parker are in town. The entire weekend is miserable. The Frida, which had been my family’s refuge for so long, reminds me of Faye. Staying in my sister’s spare house reminds me of Faye. Playing rummy reminds me of Faye.

It’s not made better by my siblings asking about her all the damn time.

Sitting on the porch in the July sun, they’re relentless. “Why didn’t you bring her this weekend?” Parker pushes.

I glare at him, but don’t answer. What is there to say? I fucked it up?

My youngest brother rolls his eyes at me. “You were more fun when she was around.”

Lily frowns. “Don’t mock him. He’s clearly upset about the whole situation.”

“Henry doesn’t get upset. That would require feelings.” Rhys throws in his final hand. “And I win again.”

I toss down my own cards, the loss souring my mood even further. She’d fit in here like a glove, by my side, giving as good as she got on every topic. Even my father-who barely spoke to me after the Chicago incident-commented on her absence. He called her that girl, but he had grunted in displeasure when I said she hadn’t joined this time. Mentally, I wondered if she ever would again, or if I’d ruined everything by going too fast.

It’s late when I finally drain my whiskey and decide to go home. Parker has already gone to bed, and Rhys has long since retreated into himself, lying on his back to stargaze. Lily is watching him fondly, leaning into Hayden. They’ve been different since the wedding. Closer, if that’s even possible.

I sigh as I watch them. Easy companionship. It wasn’t always easy for them, I know that now. Part of that was probably our fault-the entire nosy family. But now, with his arm around my sister and his eyes filled with quiet adoration, I know Lily couldn’t have chosen a better husband.

And I need to get out of here, before I’m reminded even more of the woman I’d found and let slip through my fingers. For a few days, we’d had… oh, hell if I knew. Something that felt like everything.

Lily quietly extricates herself from Hayden’s arm. “I’ll follow you out,” she says, as if I don’t know the blueprint of her house, having designed the remodel.

She’s unusually quiet. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Yeah, everything’s fine. But Henry… are you fine?”

Not this again. I nod. “Yeah.”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Did you two break up?”

I don’t know if it’s because it’s just her and me, or the whiskey, or the late hour, but I nod. I must look as miserable as I feel, because Lily’s eyes soften.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was my fault.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” Her eyes hold the same tint of hero-worship they used to have when she was a child, and I was lifting her up on my shoulders, or later, teaching her how to drive stick. It makes the guilt roil in my stomach.

“She was my assistant at work. Not my girlfriend.”

I wait for the admonition, but it doesn’t come. Lily just nods. I narrow my eyes at her in suspicion. “Did you know?”

“No.” A faint pause. “I suspected. She mentioned something about the two of you not being serious, and then I did some internet research. She’s listed as one of your company’s employees.”

I groan. “Lily.”

“Faye and I spoke about you, briefly.” She puts a hand on my arm. “I basically asked her what she felt about you, when we had dinner.”

“You were supposed to give her a house tour!”

“Yes, well, you know how I get.”

I run a hand over my jaw. “Yeah, I do.”

“She was… worried that you didn’t care for her?”

“She said that?”

My sister’s hesitation says it all. “Well, that’s what she meant. And I told her that Henry Marchand doesn’t do half-measures. That if you’re bringing her here, it’s because you like her. We’ve never met any of your girlfriends before! I tried to put her at ease.”

“She was worried about that? That I wasn’t really interested?”

“Yeah.” Lily shoots me a look that says this should be obvious to me. “It’s not hard to imagine why. She was basically considering getting together with her boss, Henry. It’s not exactly recommended.”

“I know that. Hell, I do. That’s what ended the whole thing.”