Last Summer(13)

“I have no idea,” Ella answers, turning back to her friend. “If something did happen, I blocked it out.”

The lobby buzzer sounds.

“Who’s here?” Ella asks Damien, who hands Davie a tissue on his way to the door. She takes it graciously and dabs her eyes.

“Andrew. He called while you were in the shower.”

“How is that annoying little brother of yours?” Davie asks.

“Still annoying, I’m sure.”

When Andrew comes in, dressed in baggy jeans and a faded red hoodie, he shakes Damien’s hand. He then sees Ella and his face falls. In two long strides, he is at her side and grabs her up in a tight embrace. Ella makes a noise of distress when she feels a burn in her abdomen. He quickly lets go.

“Yikes, sis.” He grimaces when Ella gently massages the area around her scar.

“I’m fine.”

“Really? ’Cause Damien told me about your head. Damn.”

“With any luck, I’ll recover. My doctor said my chances are good.”

Nodding as though he’s trying to understand, Andrew bites his lip. Andrew, the one who’s always so lighthearted, looks like he is going to cry. She hasn’t seen him cry since their parents died. They both cried a lot that year.

Ella clasps his hands. “Trust me, everything will be fine.”

“If you say so, sis.”

“I know so.” She’ll make sure of it.

They sit for a dinner of lasagna, garlic bread, and roasted vegetables, and despite the dark cloud of the week’s events, talk is lively. Damien has always shone at dinner parties and he keeps the conversation light, asking Andrew about his latest project, Come Over Rover, an app that connects dogs in the neighborhood for canine playdates.

“I have two interested investors,” Andrew announces.

“Fantastic! I knew there would be.” Ella gives her brother a fist bump. His latest app wasn’t his first venture. Andrew’s been designing and selling off apps since he was nineteen. He’ll do the same when he gets bored with Rover. Poor doggy.

Damien cuts into his lasagna. “I guess that means my human resources department shouldn’t expect a call from you.”

“You know Andrew abhors the eight-to-six grind,” Davie says. She nods when Damien offers to pour her more Cabernet. “Andrew’s just saving you from the hassle of firing him.”

“It’s true, honey. He’s never going to come work with you,” Ella agrees. “He spends mornings at the gym, afternoons at the coffee shops, and evenings at the bar,” she ticks off, then corrects herself. “My mistake. He spends his evenings at the Blue Light.”

“I watch the Niners there. Doesn’t everyone?”

Three heads shake.

“Sorry, Damien, my brother only works nights and in his pajamas.”

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

Davie leans forward, resting her chin on her palm, intrigued. “Really?” She likes to egg him on. Harmless flirting because, frankly, she finds him a bit of a tool.

“Shorts! I wear gym shorts. And a shirt, except when it’s hot.” He throws his bread down. It bounces off his plate. “What is this? Andrew roast night?”

He sounds annoyed but he’s grinning. Ella knows it doesn’t take much to get her brother riled.

“I was thinking about your app the other day. TinderPooch, right?” Damien asks in all seriousness.

“Come Over Rover,” Andrew grumbles.

“You should program a feature where a dog barks to find a match. Once for yes, twice for no. Or you could train them to swipe.”

Ella and Davie burst with laughter.

“Ow,” Ella whines, grabbing her waist. Everything hurts, but she can’t stop. Damien’s too damn funny when he gets on a roll.

“You’re in rare form tonight, Russell.” Andrew stuffs a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “Normally, I’d be quick with a retort full of awesomeness, but given the shitty week you’ve had, I’ll refrain.”

Damien’s face darkens.

“Andrew,” Ella reprimands.

He looks at her. “What?”

Damien’s jaw ticks. He puts down his fork and pushes away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”

They watch him head down the hallway until they hear the door to his office close.

“What’s his deal?” Andrew asks.

Davie shoots him a dirty look. “He just lost a baby. Give him a break. He’s having a hard time.”

“Crap.” Andrew cups his hands over his mouth and nose. “My bad,” he says into his hands. His gaze darts to Ella. “I wasn’t thinking. And come on, he was picking on me first.”

“Oh, my god, seriously? How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“That was a rhetorical question, you dimwit.” Ella gives him a playful punch in the shoulder. She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “It’s not you. He’s upset I can’t remember Simon.”

“Sure he is. But obviously you’d remember if you could. And it’s going to come back, it just takes time,” Davie says. She comes over and bends down to wrap Ella in a hug.

Davie’s sweet perfume and warm skin comfort Ella and she feels her tears coming on. “I should go see how he’s doing.”