Diego stared at his brother. He hadn’t taken the time until this very second to really soak in the sight of the man in front of him, the one he hadn’t seen since…well, their dad’s funeral.

Christ, that had been a day.

“Listen,” Rocco said quietly, more seriously, his eyes solemn. “I get it. I shouldn’t have tricked you into coming here, calling the lunch a best man’s thing. But I just…I just wanted to see you, man. I wanted you to be involved this week leading up to the wedding. I wanted… Shit. I wanted it like old times. I was hoping that maybe this could be a chance for us to put our issues aside. Or, hell, maybe we can even figure them out.”

At the unexpected mature side to his brother, Diego took a step back and ran a hand over his face. “When did you grow up?”

Rocco gave a rueful smile. “It started the day I screwed up with you. I’ve had ten years to perfect it.”

Diego drew in a deep breath. “Why is Daisy your wedding planner?”

“She’s one of my best friends.”

This caught Diego by surprise on a day where he’d thought he couldn’t get more surprised. “Since when?”

“Since she came back to the city like five years ago.”

Diego could feel his chest tightening. Maybe it was an impending heart attack, because what the actual hell? Diego and Daisy had been best friends and far more, but they’d not managed to keep in touch once they split. Though somehow, his brother who was the king of not keeping in touch had taken up a relationship with her. It shouldn’t have pissed him off, but it did.

“She’s the best at what she does,” Rocco said. “I need her. But I need you more.”

Diego had no choice here. He wasn’t a complete asshole. And if he were being honest, he’d missed Rocco—much more than he was ready to admit. “Okay. You’ve got me. What do you need?”

Rocco appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. “The first thing is tomorrow’s cake tasting. We’ve had a last-minute change of bakery. Daisy arranged this new one.”

“I don’t know,” Diego said. “If you want this to go smoothly, having me and Daisy in the same room probably isn’t a great idea.”

“I really need you both there, man.”

With a shake of his head, Diego looked out at the water and took a beat to breathe. He was being manipulated, he could feel it. And he hated that. “I’ll need to talk to Daisy first.”

Rocco pulled out his phone and did something, and from within Diego’s pocket, his own cell buzzed. He pulled out the device, eyed the text, and then looked up at his brother.

“Daisy’s address.” Rocco held his gaze.

“She lives in the same building as The Canvas Shop?”

“Yep. Fourth-floor, one-bedroom apartment. Consider the intel a peace treaty. But, uh…” Rocco grimaced. “Maybe lie about how you got it. No sense in her hating both of us, right?”