The Good Brother Page 8

  “And for you?” she directs the question at Dad.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  I smile at her. “They’ll have the same.”

  She nods and leaves.

  Dad folds his hands together. His voice is hoarse, gruff. “This is my fault. I should have done more to reach out to him. I should have put all my effort into searching for him. If I had known he would die like this…”

  “Kurt,” Lauren rubs my father’s back, “it’s my fault. I was the one who destroyed your relationship.”

  At least she knows.

  “There’s… something else,” I say.

  Dad’s blue eyes land on mine. “What?”

  “Harry had a kid.”

  I watch the shock parade across their faces. Hm. Was this what I looked like when I found out about Reece?

  “W-what?” Dad sputters.

  “Her name is Reece and she’s really smart and mature for her age.” I pull out my cellphone to show them the selfies Reece and I took yesterday after I brought her home from the salon.

  Lauren’s eyes go wide when she sees Harry’s daughter. “He had a child? How old is she?”

  Dad shoots her a side-eye.

  Lauren doesn’t seem to notice. Her fingernails dig into the napkin on the table. She leans in imploringly.

  “Reece will be ten soon.”

  “Ten? That means right after he left he met someone else and…”

  Dad clears his throat. “Why did you bring us to a restaurant then? You should have taken us to meet our granddaughter.”

  “I’m a grandma?” Lauren whispers, her voice filled with shock.

  “The thing is, Harry didn’t tell Reece or any of his friends about us. She was, understandably, upset when she met me and heard she had an extended family beyond the one that Harry had built here—”

  Lauren grabs my hand. “Her mother? Is she here in Belize?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “She died in childbirth.”

  “Oh.”

  Dad arches an eyebrow. “How did he meet someone in the first place? Harry didn’t seem like the type to impregnate some woman he barely knew.”

  “They met at a hospital function. As far as I heard, he was deeply in love with her. She mended his broken heart. Gave him a new lease on life. He completely moved on.”

  Lauren winces but says nothing.

  I’m adding on to the story, but there’s a part of me that desperately wants my lie to be the truth. I also want to see Lauren suffer. So it’s a win-win.

  “How did you get that information?” Dad asks.

  “A friend.” I straighten when I notice the waitress en route to our table with the drinks. As soon as she sets my beer in front of me, I take a deep swig.

  “About this little girl,” Dad says, “what exactly have you told her about us?”

  I stare him right in the eyes. “Everything.”

  “Everything?” Lauren swallows.

  “That her grandparents got married when they were young. They had two kids—me and her dad. Then her grandmother died and her grandfather remarried.” I glance at Lauren. “What did you think I meant?”

  Dad’s face turns pink. Since we’re in a nicely air conditioned room, it’s not from the heat. “Do you think you’re funny?”

  My mouth forms a thin line. “Did it sound like a joke to you, Dad?”

  “Kurt.” Lauren places a hand on his arm.

  He looks away. “Who has the child been staying with since Harry… since my son died?”

  “Family friends.”

  “I want names.”

  My gaze sharpens. How like Dad to jump into any situation and start making demands. “You’ll meet them later. They’re with Reece now.”

  “You have strangers taking care of family?”

  I bristle at his tone. “Those women are the only family she knows outside of Harry.”

  “They’re not her blood relatives.”

  “Blood… give me a break, Dad. In case you forgot, you were the reason Harry packed up and left. I don’t think he would give a damn that we’re related.”

  “Ben!” Lauren hisses.

  Dad slams his hands on the table. “Watch your mouth, Benjamin.”

  My heart races. I want nothing more than to leave this table, but we’re not here to fight. We’re here to mourn Harry’s death and bury him in the home that he loved. “Logan and Lydia are good people. We can trust them.”

  Even if they don’t trust me.

  The food arrives and we’re forced to avoid any more spats until the waitress sets the platters on the table and leaves.

  Dad clears his throat. “We’re returning to the States tomorrow.”

  My eyes snap to his. “You’d miss Harry’s funeral?”

  “We’re taking the body with us,” Dad says.

  It takes a second for those words to sink in. When they do, my fork clatters out of my hands. “Dad…”

  “I already spoke to the coroner and he’s agreed to write the letter we’ll need to take Harry’s body abroad.”

  “You can’t. Things like that don’t happen in a day.”

  “He was aptly compensated for his urgency.” Dad brushes the surface of his shirt, tossing invisible crumbs. “Of course, those arrangements were made before we found out there was a child involved.”

  “We’ll take her back to the States with us,” Lauren says brightly.

  “Like hell you are.” I leap to my feet. My chair scrapes the tiles loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. “You’re not taking Harry’s body or Reece.”

  “Calm down, Ben. You’re making a scene,” Dad says in a restrained voice that warns he’s reaching the last of his patience.

  My chest heaves. I force myself to return to my seat.

  Lauren moves her fork around her plate. “The US is where Harry’s from. It’s where his extended family, his friends, his life was. It’s not fair to host a funeral here when half the people who cared for him, saw him grow up and would like to pay their respects won’t be able to attend.”

  “You know what losing my big brother has shown me, Lauren? Condolences mean nothing. Guilt after the fact is total crap. If those relatives and friends had really cared about Harry, they would have made an effort when he was alive. Not now when he’s dead.”

  “Ben…”

  I throw my napkin on the table. There’s no way I can do this.

  “Sit, Benjamin.” Dad growls.

  I walk toward the door instead. A thought strikes. I walk back and lean over the table. Dad’s blue eyes, blazing with annoyance, burn into mine.

  “One more thing. Harry made me Reece’s official guardian. You want her? You have to go through me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Logan

  I check my phone again. No new messages. My fingernail taps the screen. Should I have texted Ben the joke about hiring a gang to beat up his dad? Was it too much? Doubts run circles in my mind.

  What should I have done then?

  Ben and I might sleep in the same room, but we aren’t that close. I didn’t want to come out and say something cheesy and embarrassing. A joke was supposed to be a safe way to encourage him as he met his dad at the airport.

  His silence worries me.

  Should I call him? Would that help?

  I have no idea.

  This morning, I woke up in bed instead of on the floor where I’d conked out last night. According to Reece, Ben slept in the couch.

  I’m assuming he was the one who put me on the mattress since Reece is physically incapable of lifting me and taking me anywhere.

  Whether Ben did it out of genuine care or guilt, he didn’t have to. In fact, I was prepared to sleep on the floor. His kindness allowed me to rest in comfort so… maybe I can call just this once and check on him.

  Before I can dial his number, the bell above the door jingles. My head whips up. I mentally flip through the schedule for the day. We have a wash and flat iron at eleven and a Siamese
twist at two.

  As long as the walk-in client doesn’t request braids, Yvonne and I can handle. Tanya is out on errands for the store. She took Clara with her so both our braid experts are missing.

  I hear Yvonne’s voice behind me, greeting the customer. Her voice is breathy, higher-pitched than usual. I tuck my phone back into my jeans and turn around. A small gasp parts my lips when I recognize Anthony Young striding into the salon.

  That explains Yvonne’s breathiness.

  Unlike the last time when he was dressed casually, Anthony’s wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt, black pants and a striped tie. The professional look drapes an air of elegance around him. Or maybe it’s the suit-and-tie effect messing with my head.

  “Hello.” I smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You too.” His gaze does a slow sweep of my body. I glance down. What could he possibly find so entrancing? I’m wearing a white T-shirt and capris. Nothing fancy.

  “Can I help you?”

  He startles and then grins sheepishly as if embarrassed to be caught staring. “I came to pick up the gift certificate?”

  “You did?” My eyes bug. I thought Tanya had printed the gift certificate the day he asked for it. There’s not much to the service other than printing out a card, signing the receiver’s name and stamping it with our seal.

  “Yeah.”

  I walk behind the counter and open the drawer beneath the cash register. “I’m sorry I thought you’d already received it. I hope we didn’t inconvenience you.”

  “No,” he says, his brown eyes bright. “To be honest… I asked Tanya to hold it for me.”

  My hands are deep inside the drawer, but they freeze at his words. I glance up. “What?”

  “I wanted an excuse to come back and see you.”

  Yvonne eases away from the counter. “I’m just gonna… rearrange the towels.”

  Anthony sends her a charming smile and then focuses on me.

  My mouth goes dry. I grasp for something witty to say, but my mind is blank. I duck my head to hide my nerves and put all my focus into finding that darn certificate. At last, I stumble on a folder marked ‘ANTHONY YOUNG’ and pull it out.

  “There!” I thrust the thing at him. “Found it.”

  He chuckles. “Thank you.”

  I pull my lips in and nod stupidly. “Yup.”

  Awkward silence descends. At least, it’s awkward for me. Anthony seems to have no problem using that time to stare at my face.

  “Um, can I help you with anything else?”

  He straightens and taps the folder in his palm. “No. That’s it.”

  “Great. Have a great day.” I smile brightly to hide the fact that I’m, basically, shooing him out the door.

  “Yeah. Thanks again.”

  “No problem.”

  He turns around. Walks a couple steps. Stops.

  Don’t turn back. Don’t turn back.

  He turns back, his expression determined. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  I blink once. Twice.

  What the heck am I supposed to say to that?

  Anthony leans against the counter. “Could I get your number?”

  “I’m not really… I mean I—”

  “Are you in a relationship?” he asks, pushing out his lips like a child dragged away from the cookie jar.

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Please don’t feel uncomfortable. I just want to talk. Get to know you better. Outside of the fact that you can dance.”

  I laugh. “I can’t dance.”

  “No way.” Anthony mimics my moves from the day he first walked into the shop.

  I cover my mouth. “Please don’t tell me I looked like that.”

  “Are you kidding? You were incredible.”

  “Well, thank you.” I do a little curtsy.

  He raises his eyebrows. “What do you say?”

  “You seem like a great guy, Anthony, but—”

  He groans. “Nothing good comes after the but.”

  “I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

  “Then we’ll be friends.”

  I give him a dubious look.

  He smirks. “You don’t believe me? How about a challenge?”

  “Oh?”

  “You give me your number, and I won’t ask you out for a month.”

  “How is that a challenge?”

  “It is for me. If I could, I would ask you out right now.”

  I chuckle. “You’re upfront.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” He ducks.

  “No, it’s… it’s kind of refreshing.” I study him. “What do you do, Mr. Young?”

  “I’m a lawyer. I just finished with a court case. Does that help me or harm me?”

  “Why would it harm you?”

  “I’ve met women who hate lawyers. Think we’re all snakes who live and die for the almighty dollar.”

  “And are you?”

  “A snake? No. Do I defend people I might not necessarily hang around with? Yes.”

  I smile. “Like I said… I like you’re honesty. Okay. I agree to your terms. Here’s my number.” I read it out to him and watch as he types into his fancy phone. “Did you get it?”

  “Yes.” His eyes sparkle. “It was nice to meet you again, Logan.”

  “You too.” I wave as he walks out.

  The moment the front door clacks back into place Yvonne squeals and leaps toward me. “You’re so lucky, Logan. That man is fine and he has a job. That’s like hitting the jackpot.”

  “Don’t get too excited. He may turn out to be a jerk.”

  “Yeah, right. He was so sweet. I bet you’ll fall for him in two weeks.”

  It took me three seconds to look into Harry Duncan’s frazzled eyes and soften toward him. I seriously doubt I’ll feel that way toward anyone else in my lifetime. “If I was a gambling kind of girl, I would take that bet.”

  Yvonne grins.

  I lean in and gesture her closer. When her forehead is a breath away from mine, I whisper—“Tanya never hears about this.”

  She clips her fingers together and pretends to zip her lips. “These babies are sealed.”

  “Great.” I round the counter and fall into one of the styling chairs. I may not love another man the way I loved Harry, but Anthony Young is intriguing. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll be whole enough to give him a shot.

  My phone rings, dragging me away from my thoughts. I pull it out and sit straight up when I see Ben’s name filling the screen. My fingers slam the ‘ACCEPT’ button. I plaster the phone to my ear.

  “Ben? How’d it go?”

  “Not well.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Currently? I’m pacing the sidewalk in front of Papparazi Restaurant. The security guard is eyeing me like I’m a threat.”

  “What? Why are you pacing?”

  “My dad and Lauren are inside. We just had a huge fight, but I realized that I can’t leave them stranded here since they don’t know anything about Belize.”

  “So go back inside.”

  “My pride won’t allow me. I needed someone to vent to so I called you.”

  A smile curves my lips. I shouldn’t be this pleased by the fact that Ben thought of and reached out to me when he was having a hard time. We’re not even friends.

  “You still there, Logan?”

  “Yeah.” I readjust the phone. “What did you fight about?”

  “They wanted to fly Harry’s body back to the US.”

  I freeze. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was. Dad already paid off the coroner so they could get the pass in a day. Their excuse is that our relatives will want to pay their respects.”

  “I hate to admit it, but they might have a point. It’s expensive to fly to Belize and on such short notice…”

  “It doesn’t matter what Dad and Lauren want. They lost all rights to decide anything for Harr
y when they chose each other. My brother wanted to be buried here. Where his child was born. Lydia said that was his only other request apart from Reece’s guardianship.”

  “Reece…” I whisper. If Ben’s father wanted Harry’s body, it’s a given that he’d want Harry’s daughter too. “Did you tell them about Reece?”

  “I did.” He blows out a breath. “I also warned them that they’d have to go through me to even see her.”

  “Are you sure you should be angering them? Isn’t your dad super rich? He could hire lawyers and—”

  “Logan. Breathe.” Ben demonstrates by blowing into the phone’s speakers. “I called you so I could calm down, not have the two of us freak out together.”

  “They can’t take Reece, Ben. She’s just a kid. Not a pawn.”

  “I know. I also know the reason you took me out for coffee yesterday was to figure out my plans for the future.”

  I sink into my seat and wince. “You figured that out?”

  “Yeah. You weren’t too subtle. But, like I told you yesterday, I’m not in a hurry to yank Reece away from the only home she knows. When my mom died, I wanted to be close to her. Close to all the things that reminded me of her. Reece deserves that.”

  I let out a breath. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. If Dad makes a fuss, I could still lose her.”

  “You can’t let that happen,” I insist.

  “Is that a request or an order?”

  “Ben…”

  “I know.” There’s a pause. I hear rustling. Ben clears his throat. “Logan, the security guard is coming this way.”

  “Wait, but—”

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen that’s gone blank. He hung up on me. Jerk. At least he had a good reason this time.

  I chew on a fingernail. What will Ben do now that his father is in the picture? Yesterday, he admitted that he’d never gone against his dad before. If it came down to a battle of wills, would Ben be able to stand firm?

  I run my hands over my ponytail in frustration. Why are things so complicated?

  My phone vibrates against my leg. I jolt up. The device skitters to the floor and slides across the tile. I scramble to the ground and crawl over to it, eagerly scooping it up and checking the screen.

  Disappointment slams me in the gut when I realize that it’s not a message from Ben. It’s a text from an unknown number.