It felt disturbingly like self-pity.

Was he jealous of his three siblings’ happiness? Because if he was, that was just lame. Lame and inexcusable. He really needed to get his own life. He and his siblings had suffered the same tragedy. They’d moved on. Why hadn’t he?

“She’s all grown up. She has Reed. She doesn’t need us anymore.”

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Pat.” Did parents feel this jumble of emotions when their kids got married and had kids? How could he be sad and happy at the same time?

“And Danny’s all settled up in Maine with Mandy.” Pat sighed heavily. Alcohol made his brother emotional. “You’re the last holdout, Conor.”

“Uh-huh.” Do not engage.

“I’m serious.” Pat hiccupped. “You need a wife.”

Conor made another noncommittal sound and made a mental note that his brother’s new cutoff was three drinks, two if he was rolling out the scotch like he had tonight to celebrate Jayne’s news.

“How’s your curator?” Pat asked.

“Fine.” Conor wasn’t going anywhere near a conversation about Louisa with a drunken and sentimental Pat.

Pat glanced in the side mirror. “The cops are behind us. It’s a fucking parade. Have you heard from Damian?”

“He says they’re waiting for the DNA test results.” Conor turned down a narrow side street and navigated the sports car around a fallen garbage can. “I’ve seen them following me.” Conor assumed they were always nearby, even if he couldn’t see them.

“The test results will prove you’re innocent,” Pat said.

Conor didn’t respond. The long hair they’d found in his apartment was Zoe’s, but the blood wasn’t hers. How would that play out?

He was glad to pull up in front of Pat and Leena’s small piece of urban bliss. Like the family it housed, the brick row home exuded chaos and contentedness. The narrow front yard held a driveway barely big enough for a minivan and an equal-size strip of grass. A Big Wheel was upended on the walk, its tires in the air like a dog that wanted its belly rubbed.

“We’re here.” Thank God. Conor parked at the curb.

Pat sobered. “Leena’s going to be pissed.”

“Probably,” Conor said just to make Pat sweat and hopefully take his mind off Conor’s life. Pat might have a foot of height and a hundred pounds on his wife, but Leena ran the show. No question. Though she wouldn’t give his brother a hard time. Not tonight. She knew how deeply Jayne’s news had affected him. If Pat were sober, he’d know Leena had his back when it mattered, but those shots of scotch had warped his perspective, as liquor tended to do.