Page 6 of The Best I Never Had

And then he was gone, with nothing but his expectations left behind. And a grieving widow who fluctuated between debilitating despair and extreme bursts of productivity so she could maintain her husband’s legacy for his sons, forcing all of her five-year-old’s care onto her thirteen-year-old.

Harrison takes a bite of his eggs, his hum of appreciation bringing me back to the present. “These are great, Owen.”

“I’m sure. Now spill.”

He smiles down at his plate. “You know Addy said yes?”

I nod, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

My loud, self-assured little brother blushes. “I can’t believe she’s marrying me. I don’t know how I tricked a woman like her into loving me.”

“I agree. She’s far too smart and beautiful for the likes of you,” I tease.

In truth, I don’t get it. I’ve only met Harrison’s girlfriend—fiancée, I guess—a handful of times. She works at Hayes with us, but there’s no overlap in our roles. Addy’s sweet, if a little bland. Like a doll with eyes that blink and a voice box to speak, but whose expression never changes. But Harrison loves her, and that’s all that matters.

“We called Nana to tell her about the engagement, and she mentioned there was an unexpected cancellation at the vineyard.”

“That’s great.” Every Ellis—our mom’s side of the family—in the past three generations has been married at Black Bear Winery, and Harrison’s always wanted to follow in their footsteps.

Our family here in Florida is small, just us and our mom. But for two months every summer, before real life and jobs took over, we got to run wild with our extended family in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Four aunts and uncles, too many cousins to count, and our grandmother. The untamable, unconquerable Cecily Ellis. It’s home, in every way that matters.

But my family, my company, needs me here.

“When’s the big day?” I ask.

“The twelfth of August,” he says with a guilty smile.

I flip through the calendar on my phone, landing on the date. “You’re getting married on a Sunday?”

“No.” He clears his throat. “You’re in the wrong year.”

I look up at him so quickly my head spins. “Please tell me you’re waiting a couple years to get married and not getting married next month.”

He smiles wide, almost manically. “I’m getting married next month!”

I run my hands down my face. “Mom’s going to have a conniption.”

“She’s just happy one of us is getting married,” he says with a laugh.

“I’m thirty-two, not fifty! She acts like she has to save me from becoming a decrepit bachelor.”

Harrison laughs at my misery. “So, who are you going to bring to the wedding?”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come over before I had my coffee, Mom.”

Harrison lets out a whine. “Was that an attempt at a joke? Haven’t we established you should leave the jokes to the funny people?”

He chuckles, and if he notices the forced nature of my laugh, he says nothing.

I know who I am. I’m not the fun brother. Definitely not the funny brother. But every reminder feels like a jab between the ribs.

“Then stop grilling me about my love life,” I say.

He chews his eggs, tapping the fork against his lips. “Is this where you tell me you’re still hung up on Thea?”

No one in my family—not even my brother who I love more than anyone in the world—knows the real story there, how I was so desperate to get my mom off my back I let a friend set me up with a fake girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding. How she won my family over within the first day, and how I’ve used my “heartbreak” over the split to avoid setups for the past few years. You’d think they’d question me still being obsessed with this woman, but she wormed her way into their hearts so thoroughly over the course of three days that they’re still mourning her loss, too.

I narrow my eyes at him. “It was a tough breakup, okay?”