“Because I had to see—”
“You have no reason to,” she interjected. “And you shouldn’t—”
“Annie, this is the last batch of the fair-themed cookies.” Her father’s resonant voice preempted his entry into the shop from the back.
They both jumped back, as if caught red-handed, though they weren’t even close to each other.
Bert appeared, carrying a tray of sun-shaped, yellow icing cookies. “Finn?” he called as soon as he entered. “How are you, son? We haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s great to see you.” He placed the tray on the counter then came out from behind it to join them.
“Hello, Mr. Drecher.” A muscle danced in Finn’s jaw, straining his neck muscles.
Anne looked away, remembering what it had felt like to trace her fingers over them and imagining what they looked like under his open-collared, dark gray, buttoned-down shirt.
“What is this Mr. Drecher nonsense?” Bert drummed his voice in a chuckle. “It’s Bert. Always has been. I know it’s been a while—I think it was three years ago—but with Max and everything, you’ll always be family. So, there’s no need for Mr. Anything. Just Bert, plain and simple.”
While her father had meant it as a welcoming speech, he had no idea that he had just reiterated everything they grappled with.
“You’re right, Bert,” Finn said with a tight smile and a quick nod. “Great seeing you again. And plain and simple is my absolute favorite.”
“I hope we can see more of you. You’re here for the fair, or are things warming up with Avery?” Bert smirked and lifted his eyebrows in a cheeky innuendo.
Anne guessed that the sinking feeling she experienced coursed through Finn, too.
“We’ve been divorced three years; nothing left to warm up, Bert. Even before,” Finn said, his last two words almost half-whispered. He shot a quick look at her. “There’s just Max,” he said louder, looking at her dad again.
“That’s a pity. And with everything you two went through that first year … well, you know.”
“Dad, I think Finn was just leaving and—”
“Oh, yes, yes, I know, sweetie. I always embarrass you, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, talking about things that aren’t any of my business. Anyway, don’t be a stranger, Finn. Now that both Avery and Anne live here, we’ll have more opportunities to spend time together. We’ve always considered these two as sisters, and you as Anne’s brother. Brother-in-law, ex-brother-in-law, it doesn’t matter. Family is everything, it’s forever, especially in a small family like ours, and even an ex-brother-in-law is better than the brother she never had. You see, Anne was an only child, and we always wished—”
“Dad! Can you please, pretty please with frosting on top, start packing for the evening rounds for me?” she hurried to say, coming up with the first thing she could think of.
She wanted to die. Her brother. Brother-in-law was bad enough.
She wondered how loud the thud of her father fainting on the floor would sound if he knew that these “siblings” had fallen madly and irrevocably in love and fucked each other senseless for an entire week … until Finn had found out that the woman he had forgotten he had casually hooked up with two months before was pregnant and that she was none other than Anne’s cousin. A woman Anne was raised to consider and expected to think of as a sister.
Bert chuckled. “You got it, Annie.” He waved a don’t-mention-it, then patted Finn on the shoulder. “See you, son,” he said before turning toward the back of the bakery.
The silence that ensued felt as if they had been tossed into the deepest part of a pool where all sound was muffled. It trapped them, and all that was left for them to do was give each other a little head tilt and tight-lipped smile of two people who had been brutally reminded of the difference between right and wrong, dream and reality, desire and duty.
Finn’s voice, his words, being close to him, alone with him for the first time in so long—she had almost let her guard slip. She had to remember what he was to her now, despite yearning for what he had been to her then.
Building on her father’s words, Anne settled Finn back in her mind as her cousin’s ex-husband, the father of her aunt’s grandson, and added a reminder that Max was her first cousin once removed and that she could never be with his father.
From day one, she had been taught how important family was. “You can live without anyone else as long as you have your family, Janey. Family is everything. You should fight and sacrifice for your family, to keep it together,” they said. Her dad was an only child to parents who had lost everyone in the camps. Her mother and her twin had lived as if they were joined at the hip. And she was an only child to parents who adopted everyone into their family. Including Finn.
As if he was silently admitting defeat, Finn turned to leave. He took one step then halted.
Anne followed his gaze. It landed on the stack of brochures that her proud mother had placed at the end of the table for people to pick up with their sourdough rolls.
Finn took one brochure and skimmed through it. “You’re still painting?”
Her hand involuntarily gestured toward him, wanting to snatch the paper from him. “A little.”
“And participating in an exhibition,” he stated what he’d just read, raising his eyes to her.
“It’s nothing.” While it wasn’t what she had dreamed of coming out of art school, it was the first exhibition she would be a part of in years. Her impressionist watercolor style wasn’t as popular in the art world and had made her an outsider even in college, but it was her favorite style.