"Wow, this is really nice," I said, giving him a genuine smile as he moved past me through the doorway that seemed to lead to the kitchen.
"Thanks," he said as he placed the bags on an island in a space that seemed almost too big for a house that didn't seem very big from the outside. "I took out the dining room to just make a big eat-in kitchen. Makes it feel more open in here," he said, gesturing toward the windows lining the back wall that let in a ton of natural light and did, in fact, make it feel very open.
It also helped that he had chosen white cabinets, butcher block countertops, and more of the same reclaimed wood floors. Everything seemed to flow perfectly.
There was a white breakfast table near the windows with four seats and a basket of potatoes in the center of it.
Charming.
The whole place was utterly charming.
It was definitely the kind of place you wanted to come home to after a long day.
He steadily unpacked bags, moving things together to start prep work as I moved around and looked at a collection of pictures he had in a large frame on the wall, one I figured must have been given to him as a gift because, let's face it, what man sits around printing out pictures and carefully places them into a big collage frame?
There was a picture of him and his brothers as kids, each wearing almost identical popsicle stick grins, colors running down their faces. There was another of them as young teenagers, two of them bloodied, the remaining three bruised. There was an older couple, the genetics strong enough in their family to be able to tell immediately they must have been the parents. There were three pictures down the middle, each of a different little girl. And then there were three remaining couple pictures- one with Shane, who I had met, and a beautiful dark-haired woman. There was another with the serious brother I had seen at the gym and a pretty blonde woman with green eyes. And finally, there was his brother who was covered in tattoos along with a woman covered in them as well, blonde-haired, impeccably dressed.
All of them, from the parents to the siblings, all seemed blissfully happy with their partners.
There was that strange yearning sensation again inside as I forced myself to move away, to move back toward the island where Mark had set up the ingredients for me as well.
"Are you the only single brother?"
"Nah. Eli hasn't settled down yet either. Don't know why with him. He has never been a huge ladies man. He likes the idea of a wife and kids. He just hasn't gotten around to it. He's dating some chick now but..."
"But?" I prompted when he trailed off.
"Don't want to say negative things about a woman who could possibly be my sister-in-law one day, but she's nasty as fuck. No one likes her."
"Is it serious?"
"They've only been going out a couple weeks. I don't think it's gonna last. Think he just wanted to try his hand at something less casual."
I nodded at that, reaching for a knife and starting to slice the apples right on the countertop, like he was doing with the green beans. There was definitely a perk to butcher block counters.
"Alright, Scotti. What's your story?"
I almost sliced off the tip of my finger.
"What?"
"Your story," he repeated when I looked up at him, finding him watching me. "Where you're from. What possessed you and your brothers to pursue a life of crime? Why, specifically, armed robbery?"
Why did he want my story?
I was pretty sure it was clear that what we had going on, whatever you wanted to call it, was casual. It couldn't be serious. I was leaving. I would always be leaving. That was the life we led. There was no way around that. There was no way to continue a relationship through that. Especially seeing as my end game was in Russia or China. The only way that'd work would be if the guy wanted to come with. And given how tight he was with his family, there was no chance of that. So why bother trying to learn my origin story? Why try to drag out all my skeletons and see what they look like in the light?
"We don't need to do this," I said, trying for breezy and casual even though I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. "I think it's clear that this thing between us is casual. You don't have to ask me about my life."
"I don't have to, no," he agreed, brow raised. "But I want to."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"That's not an answer."
"It was hardly a question," he shot right back, looking almost confused. "Is it so weird that someone wants to get to know you? I've only gotten to spend a total of an hour or so with you, and I think you're fucking fascinating. You're here. We have the time. So I'd like to know more." When I didn't immediately respond to that because I was too wrapped up in the realization that no one outside of my brothers actually knew my story, his smile went a little wicked. "What? Worried I am going to rat on you or am wearing a wire or some shit? Here. I can prove one." Then with that, he reached for his shirt and hauled it off.