“Yeah. But I’m the stupid one, aren’t I? Gavin’s the stupid, fun one. Will’s the smart, boring one,” he says, echoing our father who always said it with a bitter laugh. Two halves, neither of them whole, he’d say. If only we’d been one boy, he’d have the perfect son, instead of two disappointments.

I set the cup down and it makes a sharp clinking noise against the counter.

“Anyway,” Gavin says, “the envy only lasts until I land. Two seconds max. Then I remember you’ve worked eighty-hour weeks since you were 14 trying to please our bastard father. You saved his company, turned yourself into a machine, just so he’d say’ good job,’ but did he?”

I shrug. I stopped needing my father’s approval years ago. I work now because I love it. Unfortunately, the consequences of striving to please him lasted longer than I could’ve imagined.

Gavin continues, “He approves of my wastrel life more than he approves of your business drive. Because at least I didn’t show him up by saving his ass as a child. The hit to his pride was too much. He can’t stand it that you did what he couldn’t.”

I smile ruefully. “Please wait until Lacey gets here for the engagement party before making a decision. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. She’s good for you.” I’d like to see at least one of us happy.

Gavin stretches then rubs his eyes.

“I’ll think about it. But I’d rather have fun than think. Isn’t this the town of love? Soul Mates, USA? I haven’t been here in years, but I seem to remember there’s a real hottie that used to stalk me with her eyes. Maybe I’m here to find my true love.”

“No,” I say. All the good, brotherly feelings vanish.

“What? She doesn’t live here anymore?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

He narrows his eyes and looks me over from my too-long, needing-a-cut hair, to my jeans and bare feet.

“Dad did a number on you, Will. I remember when you used to be fun. When you laughed, told jokes and messed around. When you let yourself have friends. Jeez. Have you had a single friend besides me in the past twenty years?” He waves his hand dismissively. “No need to answer, I already know it’s a no.”

I clench my jaw and try not to think about Jessie sitting in the oak tree with binoculars hanging from her neck. I come back to work in Romeo dozens of times a year, a day or two every few weeks. Not because I talk to anyone or have friends here, Gavin’s right, I have no one. I come here for her. Sometimes, just seeing her, Jessie, on the street, or in the store, makes me feel less alone.