“Cora, please just let me have a word with you,” Arlo says, his voice missing that usual commanding tone.
When I turn to look him in the eyes, I see fatigue there.
He looks absolutely exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair disheveled.
Even though I could just about dropkick my brother across Lake Michigan for everything he said, I know that he’s done a lot for me in the past. He’s taken care of me when I’ve made stupid decisions, and he brought me into his home when I needed a place to stay after I left Keenan. I owe him at least a conversation.
“Fine.” I snatch my wrist away and then head toward the back of the house, where I slip on a pair of Greer’s slippers, grab one of her shawls, and head into the backyard, next to two loungers with a heater in between.
I sit on the lounger and pull a blanket over my body while Arlo turns on the heater. Once it’s roaring, he sits on the lounger as well. Instead of facing the lake like I am, he turns toward me and intertwines his fingers together.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” he says. “I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I treated you at the pool party. There’s no excuse for the way I acted, but I can tell you what brought me to such murderous rage.”
“I can guess,” I say while fluffing the blanket over my legs. “Not knowing I’m married and finding out like that could easily tip your anger.”
“You could say that. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks in a soft tone. “I thought we told each other everything.”
I let out a deep sigh and then twist to the side so I can look my brother in the eyes. I’ve been dreading this conversation. Arlo has been through thick and thin with me, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him. I want him to be proud of me, see how far I’ve come since my wild teenage years. Getting married while intoxicated is far from mature.
“I was embarrassed,” I admit. “I feel like you’ve done so much for me, especially regarding Keenan, and I didn’t want you to think I disregarded any of that by haphazardly getting married to Pike in Vegas. I’ve worked hard to find happiness, with your help, and with you by my side for all of it. I felt like getting drunk and married in Vegas was a huge step back at the time.”
“At the time?” His brow raises.
With my index finger, I swirl the fluffiness of the blanket. “I’ve gotten to know Pike and I actually . . .” I look at Arlo. “I like him.”
“Like him enough to stay married?”
I glance away and let out a deep breath. “He brings me joy, Arlo. He sees me for who I am and he doesn’t ask me to be anyone else.”
“But marriage is a commitment.”
“You don’t have to lecture me about marriage, Arlo. Remember, I was married, I know what it takes to make it work, and to not make it work.”
He presses his hand to mine, drawing my eyes back to his. The scowl he usually wears is gone, but he’s showing great concern, a look I’ve grown to know quite well. “I’m worried that you’re jumping into a relationship too early.” I start to talk but he holds up his hand. “Let me finish.” I nod. “The trip to Vegas was about celebrating your freedom, having fun, being single. You came home with a marriage certificate and a husband attached at the hip. I don’t want you to get lost in something, when the reality is, you weren’t looking for it.”
“I understand your concern, I really do. I would probably be saying the same thing to you if the roles were reversed—”
“I would never get drunk in Vegas.”
A sarcastic laugh pops past my lips. “Oh, pardon me, I forgot you never take the stick out of your ass.” I smirk at him so he knows I’m teasing—well, sort of. “As I was saying, I would be saying the same thing if roles—in some magical fantasy land—were reversed. But the crazy thing is, Arlo, sometimes the most important things in life fall in your lap when you’re least expecting it. Look at Greer, for instance. You were bound and determined to be a single man, but that all changed when she walked into Forest Heights, ready to raise hell in the English department.”
He sits back and presses his hand against his jaw, the muscles ticking as the wheels in his head turn, considering what I’m saying.
“He’s a good man, Arlo. You need to give him a chance.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Giving him a chance?”
The back door opens, drawing our attention. I spot Pike in the doorway, arms crossed, watching over us. Making sure I know he’s there . . . for me. He’s a good man. When I look back at Arlo, I say, “Yes, I’m giving him a chance. I’m giving the marriage a chance. I know it’s unorthodox, getting to know your husband after you’re married, but I’m willing to give it a try. The alternative is being married and divorced twice. And that screams failure to me, Arlo. In all the years I was with Keenan, dating and marriage, I never felt seen or appreciated. He manipulated every weakness and sabotaged my self-worth. So, although how Pike and I started our relationship is unorthodox, I’d much rather stay with a man who spends moments every day trying to build my self-confidence and helping me explore what other strengths I might have, than feel as though I’ve simply failed again. He’s appreciative, sweet, and treats me well. I’m not sure, in this day and age, if I could find anything better.”