I grunted. He nodded and disappeared to hunt one down.
“There’s not a day that goes by I don’t thank God we have our own separate floors in this place,” Damian told me with a wistful look on his face. “I don’t even want to know what you got into after y’all got back from that helicopter tour.”
“I actually do want to know,” I told him. “Since I don’t remember shit.”
Trace returned with a blue Gatorade a moment later. “Do you really? Some things are better left forgotten.”
I snorted and twisted the cap, tipping the electric blue drink into my mouth. Between that and the bacon, clarity was returning.
“But last night was a one-off, right?” Damian asked, something serious in his moss green eyes. “I don’t want you to start the hard partying shit again.”
“When have I partied hard in recent memory?” I asked him. “I have my fun in the Hamptons house anyway. I don’t get why you’re worried.”
My brothers shared a glance, which sparked my irritation.
“Well?” I prompted. “I haven’t thrown a rager in the penthouse in over a year. Prove me wrong.”
“It’s not that,” Trace said. “It’s…”
I sipped at the Gatorade while my brothers beat around the bush. When nobody added anything, I snapped, “What?”
“Cora,” Damian blurted.
Their meaning smacked into me. I guess the motivation for my post-Margulis party wasn’t as opaque as I imagined. Maybe I was the only one being fooled at this point.
“Right.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “It was a one-off. Promise.”
“You sure you want to go through with the offer?” Trace asked.
“Dude, it’s fine. It’s gonna be worth it. I wouldn’t have volunteered to go into the Margulis orbit if I didn’t think it would be worth it.” But even as I spoke, my stomach bottomed out. Ten minutes around Cora with zero eye contact had given me this hangover. What would an actual conversation with her provoke?
“One of us can go in your place,” Damian said. “I mean it.”
“It’s just a few meetings, and then the building will be ours,” I reassured them. “How hard could that be? Besides, you know my salty ass needs to see this through with Allan.”
My brothers shared another glance. But my rationale had seeped into them. They believed me. Butch came over to the island with a freshly stocked platter of bacon. I grunted, digging in.
“You know you make the best bacon of anyone out there?” I told him as I crunched into a hot slice.
“It’s bacon, Axel,” Butch said. “You can’t fuck it up.”
“Somebody could,” Trace said, grabbing for some before checking his watch. “All right. Time to head down to the office.” Yeah, we werethoseguys—the ones who owned the penthouse in the same building where they worked. It just made sense, since we shared the penthouse. Our apartment was big enough for five families and gave us a chance to convene for breakfasts and, on occasion, dinner. And we each kept our own escape pads for when we’d had too much brotherly love. Mine was in the Hamptons. We each had residences back in Louisville, too. We had plenty of personal space—the penthouse was our brother space.
“Are you coming in today?” Damian asked as he scanned me from head to toe. “You’re looking rough.”
“Uhhh, I might take a personal day.” I chugged the rest of my Gatorade then let out a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, gonna take a personal day.”
“Let us know if you get any updates on the building,” Trace said, adjusting the cuffs of his button-up before grabbing his briefcase off an island stool.
I gave them a thumbs up, and they headed toward the private elevator that took them straight to our office suite.
When it was just Butch and me in the kitchen, I said, “You really should have come on the helicopter ride.”
“You didn’t invite me,” he teased.
“I’ll invite you next time,” I promised. “Maybe we can have a picnic up there.”
We chatted for a little longer while I finished up breakfast at the kitchen island. We had a cozy breakfast nook that I loved to use on lazy mornings, but anything farther than right in front of me was too fucking far away with this hangover. After a glass of orange juice, I was ready to crawl back into bed. Confronting reality with this hangover was hard, and I still couldn’t shake the emotional recoil my brothers had hinted at.