Brothers of Paradise Series

But then she turns to me. “I’ve just met you, Ivy, but on account of us both being named for plants…,” a smile curves her lips, “let me tell you that I’ve never seen my brother laughing with a woman the way he did with you last night. And I don’t think he would have come to our father’s party if he didn’t have you there by his side.”

My mouth feels dry, my heart heavy. “Oh.”

“Yesterday, when we were playing cards, you said that life just keeps getting better. Do you remember that?”

I search my memories, the alcohol and the games. “Faintly.”

“He didn’t contradict you.” Lily smiles at me. “He’s been a cynic since he was eight years old, and he didn’t even blink, just raised his glass to cheer.”

I look down at my handbag. In my pocket, I can feel my phone buzzing with a call, but I ignore it. “I see.”Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“I’m sorry if I’ve said too much,” Lily says. “You do whatever you want to do, and feel free to curse him out if he needs it. All I’m saying is… he’s complicated.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I say, and we both laugh dryly at that. “Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. “I hope I’ll see you again, Ivy.”

I pause with a hand on the passenger door, and this one is easy to answer, with or without her brother in the picture. “I hope so too.”

Rhys

My little sister is the one who tells me where Ivy’s gone, knocking on the door to her own cottage. It swings open to her touch and she looks at me, pacing in the living room.

“I drove her to Bridgeport,” Lily announces.

“You did what?”

“She asked me to, Rhys. And trust me, she needed to get out of here, judging by her mood.”

I run a hand through my still-sweaty hair, guilt and anger pulsing through me in waves. She’d seen the ill-timed text from Ben fucking Rieler, and the chance to tell her myself was lost.

“I’m assuming you know why she left?” Lily asks. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

I mutter something, heading to the kitchen to pack up my stuff.

“What?”

“I said, I know why she left.”

“But you’re not going to tell me.”

“No,” I say, opening my suitcase with jerky movements. “I don’t like myself very much at the moment, and I don’t need you to join in.”

“Fine.” Lily uncrosses her arms and walks to the table, where the breakfast I’d bought lies untouched. She sifts through and finds a ham and cheese sandwich. “She did say something of interest, though.”

She takes a bite of the lukewarm sandwich and I focus on not blowing my lid while she chews slowly. “Tell me.”

“Well,” she says finally, “she said that she’d started to believe that what the two of you had was more serious than you thought. I said that I’ve never known Rhys to be anything other than honest,” Lily continues, and the trust in her voice, in me, is a gut punch of guilt. “But, I also know you. And you’re not really known for being affectionate.”

I sink down onto one of the kitchen chairs, stretching my legs out in front of me. Burying my head in my hands.

“I wasn’t honest with her.”

Lily’s chewing stops. “Oh.”

I tell her everything, pulling no punches. The bet with Ben, the way Ivy and I met. How she found out. The finer points of our relationship I omit, but every mistake of mine is there for her judgement.

She sits down opposite me. “Well,” she murmurs finally. “That doesn’t look good.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“You should have told her.”

“I should have,” I agree, looking up to see her gaze serenely back at me. There’s no judgement in her eyes, though, and I’d expected a considerable share of it.

“Rhys, you like her. It’s obvious in the way you spoke to her yesterday, the way the two of you looked at each other.”

“I think I do, yes,” I murmur. It feels like a confession.

“She likes you too. Liked, perhaps, before all of this. You’re going to have to grovel.”

“I’m prepared to.”

“And you’re going to have to do it properly,” Lily says, picking up her sandwich. “Because there is a reason why you didn’t tell her those things, and if you want to win her back, nothing but the truth will work.”

I push away from the table and head to the bedroom. Rummage around for my clothes, shoving them down.

How had she not thought this was serious? It felt like the most serious connection with a woman I’d ever had. My sister’s voice drifts from the other room. “She might need a few days before she’ll consider talking to you.”

“I have to try.”

“Good, just don’t give up.” She steps into the room, eyes wide and earnest. The same way she’d looked at me when she was little, when it was us against the world. When I supported her art and she supported me. She’d moved back to Paradise Shores, to face our father and start her own life here, rooted in the past but not controlled by it.

But she always was braver than me.

“Rhys?”

“Yes?”

“It’s been a long time since you really tried at something,” she says. “I remember what it looks like, and it’s glorious.”

Henry’s words from last night flash through my mind. “If you try at something, you might fail,” I say.

She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. “But you might succeed, and if I were a betting woman, I’d bet on you.”

Two texts and three calls, but no response from Ivy the coming days. Not a sign of life, either, on her social media accounts. I’d downloaded the apps just to be able to see.

It’s like she’s tossed her cell phone in the Hudson.