If Only You (Bergman Brothers, #6)(30)

Ren snorts a laugh, pushing off the counter before he strolls to his fridge, pulls out a seltzer, and offers me one. I shake my head. “My baby sister”—he cracks open the seltzer—“is the kindest. And certainly good. But angelic is pushing it. She’s capable of some formidable pranks, has terrifyingly accurate tickle-dar, and not only can out-sprint every single one of us but has zero problem gloating about it.”

I feel a smile lift my mouth and drop my chin, staring down at the ground so he won’t see that. “I’ve experienced the tickle-dar. It’s brutal.”

Ren laughs again. “Right?”

Forcing my face into cool blandness, I peer up and hold his gaze. “I want you to know…I respect how much she means to you, how protective you are of her. I won’t forget that.”

Ren’s smile deepens. His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I know you won’t, Seb.”

I hate how much that means, to have his trust in this. And I can’t deny how much it means, either. “Thank you.”

“So,” he says, “the pictures of you two at Betty’s Diner, then at breakfast today, and the angry yoga story online are making a lot more sense.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. “There’s something online already?”

Ren nods. “I’ve got Google alerts set for my family. Popped up about half an hour ago.”

“They named Ziggy?”

He shakes his head. “No. They named you.”

“I’m not…” My voice dies off. “I’m not your family.”

“To me you are,” he says, scrolling through his phone, like he hasn’t just dropped an existential grenade at my feet.

I can’t risk the obliterating impact of that statement, so I don’t touch it. Instead, I pull out my phone and scour the first article I find. “‘Yuval Burns,’” I read, “‘founder of angry yoga, was seen leaving Seb Gauthier’s home, not long after followed by Seb himself and an unknown redhead driving his car, most likely due to his injured foot, which would prohibit safe driving. Seb and his companion were then seen at Café du Monde, laughing and enjoying a hearty breakfast. Is she his minder? Friend? Something more? We’ll report back when we have details.’”

Groaning, I drop my phone on the counter. “‘An unknown redhead.’ She’s going to love that.”

Ren frowns. “Ziggy’s never been comfortable stepping into the spotlight. I doubt she’ll mind having flown under the radar.”

A weird pinch in my chest stops me from saying more. It’s odd and unreasonably satisfying, to know something about his sister that he doesn’t. The Bergmans clearly don’t recognize how much Ziggy wants to be seen. Somewhere along the way, the people who loved her best lost sight of the fact that just because you’ve lived one way for a time doesn’t mean you want to live that way always, that your struggle to evolve isn’t an indicator of a lack of desire to evolve. It just means…it’s hard. And it might be a hell of a lot easier if the people around you saw your possibility.

Fierce, piercing pride floods me. I’m that person for Ziggy. At least, I can be. Not just someone whose tough image can roughen hers up. But someone who shows her he recognizes her possibility.

“Maybe that’s changing,” I hedge, pushing off the counter, pocketing my phone. “I’m going to head out.”

“You sure?” he asks. “Want to stay for lunch? Frankie will be back soon.”

Oh Christ, not Frankie. She’ll have gotten a whiff of that yoga story, seen the pictures of Ziggy and me, and while I’m confident I can navigate this dynamic with Ren, Frankie has a terrifying ability to sniff out my bullshit and scare the hell out of me for it.

“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m still full from breakfast.”

He frowns. “Well, all right. Let me know if I can pick you up soon, maybe we can…” He shrugs. “I don’t know, catch up a bit. You’ve been lying low because you’re healing and Frankie’s…trying to figure out how to fix things for you, but I miss seeing you.”

When I first got to know Ren, this staggeringly honest communication, the emotional openness, made me deeply uncomfortable. That’s not how my family works, not how I was raised. But since becoming close to him in the past few years, I’ve come to admire the bravery that requires. That he can look at me and tell me he misses me, that he can admit his needs and wants, so freely, without fear.

“I’ve—” I clear my throat. “Same here. I actually, uh…” I clear my throat again. “I actually was wondering if maybe… That is, I was thinking…”

Ren’s smile is faint and amused. He lifts his eyebrows, waiting.

“I was thinking…maybe I could join your Shakespeare Club.”

The smile on his face shouldn’t be humanly possible, it’s so bright. “Seriously?”

I shrug. “Seriously. Ziggy didn’t admit to there being a club, but she said that hypothetically, if there was a Shakespeare Club, it was a damn good time. And I could use that. Some fun that isn’t…empty.”

Ren smooshes me into a hard backslapping hug. “I’d love it, Seb! You’ll love it, too. All you have to do is—”