End of Story(16)

He grinned. “Maybe we’re both assholes.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Isn’t it nice that we have things in common?”

The birthday drinks were held at a whiskey-and-meat joint near the water downtown. I wore a black silk tank, blue jeans, and black leather slide sandals with a high heel. My hair was in a messy bun, my lips were shiny, and I felt good about myself. It was great to be out and about. The last six months mostly involved hunkering down and hiding.

At first, I was dealing with the emotional and mental fallout from the breakup, then with Aunt Susan’s sudden passing, and then with the house and the overwhelming amount of work it required. It would be interesting to see what the rest of this year held for me. Happier times would be great. Though love wasn’t necessary. Single was good. I liked it for me.

I once read that you get a month of grief for each year you’ve been in the relationship after it falls apart. So in theory one month should have been enough for me to move on. And I was, in a way. But to risk being with another person is a big ask. That sort of thing took more time. Especially when I’d chosen so disastrously with the Ex. Nothing shakes your confidence like getting your heart publicly stomped by a paramour.

The party wasn’t an intimidatingly large group. Lars invited a couple of work friends including Mateo and his partner James, who had a bandaged wrist, Lars’s current lady friend Amie, a beautiful brunette wearing a Givenchy sheath dress I’d have killed to own, (though they didn’t make it in my size), and hiking buddies by the name of Brandon and River. And of course, Lars’s brother, Tore, who made a point of sitting next to me. Tore was every bit as big as Lars, but with dark hair. He watched me with a vaguely suspicious smile, which wasn’t strange or off-putting at all.

When everyone was busy listening to James tell the tale of his bike accident, Tore leaned in and said, “Never had a sister-in-law before.”

“Oh good, you’ve heard about that.”

“Very strange.”

“Very.”

“How do you think it got there?” he asked.

“I can’t explain it,” I said. “I’ve given up even trying. It was hurting my head.”

He looked at me expectantly and nodded.

“Let’s just get it all out into the open,” I said. “I don’t want anything from your brother and I’m not interested in any drama. Nor do I have plans to get married or divorced in this lifetime to Lars, or anyone else. Does that answer any questions you might have?”

He smiled though his gaze was wary. “Lars said you were a straight shooter.”

“I find it saves time. So continuing on in that theme, it strikes me that if I were a protective younger brother, I’d be very suspicious of strange documents lurking in walls with my sibling’s name on them.”

“And what might you say to allay those suspicions?”

“Honestly, I’ve got nothing. Lars and I have been over it a hundred times. There’s no plausible way either he or I could have faked it. And there’s no third party we can think of who could have done it or who would benefit from it. It just is. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Fair enough.” He raised his glass of bourbon. “To family.”

I snorted and tapped my vodka mule against his drink. “Sure. Why not?”

Later that night, Tore and I were midway through a debate on the usefulness of psychics, what even was fate, and did ghosts really exist—when Lars called out from the other end of the table, “Susie, you ready to swap?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yes.”

He rose from his seat and wandered down our way with his plate of pork shank in hand.

I handed over my roasted chicken. “You got black-eyed peas as your side. Yummy.”

Amie was only eating a salad. Guess that’s how she managed to fit into that dress. I dreamed of having that sort of discipline. But they had pecan pie on the menu.

“You two aren’t afraid of sharing germs,” said Tore.

I loaded up my fork. “Nope.”

And Lars was hovering for some reason. “You guys are getting along well.”

“Yes, we are,” confirmed Tore.

“What?” I asked. “Are we not supposed to?”

“See,” said Lars, “she takes everything I say the wrong way. Disagrees with me constantly.”

“I do not.”

Tore winced. “You kind of just proved his point.”

“You’re both imagining things.”

“What are you two talking about, anyway?” asked Lars.

I cocked my head. “Are you aware you asked that in a somewhat cranky tone of voice?”

“It’s his birthday,” said Tore. “He can grump if he wants to.”

I giggled my ass off. So I may have been on my third cocktail. I was having fun.

“It was just a question.” Lars fake frowned. “You two need to be separated.”

“Boo,” I said.

Tore just smiled. “And the marriage didn’t work, you say? I’m shocked and stunned. You get along so well.”

“Shit.” Lars’s gaze jumped to Amie. “Don’t talk about that here.”

“I like your brother,” I said. “He’s sarcastic. It amuses me.”