In my weakest moments, I wondered if that’s all our relationship had ever been. But it made Dani too shallow for me to think so. Regardless of the choices she’d made, and the way things had ended, I couldn’t ignore the parts of our relationship that had been really good. Even since she’d moved to Charleston, though she’d mostly avoided me at first, I’d occasionally catch her in the kitchen, and we’d fall into talking about one thing or another in the same easy way we always had before. Finishing each other’s sentences, laughing together. Even now, there was still a compatibility to the way we interacted that went far beyond just going places together. It had only been stronger before we’d broken up.
Still, there was something different about Charleston Dani. She was more laid back, less intense. Less ambitious. Not that ambition was a bad thing, but Dani had been so focused on her career, it had colored everything. I’d spent enough time competing with the LeFrancs for my mother’s attention. It had killed me to fight the same battle with Dani. But it felt like Charleston Dani had finally ripped off the rose-colored glasses she’d worn when looking at anything fashion—anything LeFranc—and was seeing life in a different, more natural light. Whenever I felt the pull—because I did feel it—I had to wonder if this version of her would last. If given the chance, would she jump back into the world she’d left behind? The answer to that question mattered because it was a world I didn’t want to be a part of.
I scrolled to another photo, this one of Dani in her Chelsea apartment, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. Her blonde hair was loose and wavy, and the neck of her oversized sweatshirt had slipped down onto her arm, revealing a smooth stretch of neck and shoulder that made heat rise in my body. I remembered that morning, the time we’d spent lounging, talking. We’d stayed in all day, ordered take-out, watched ridiculous television for hours. The next photo was the same day, same setting. Only in this photo, Dani was sitting up, a playful smile on her face. She held up a small whiteboard, a marker tossed to the side. The words on the whiteboard read: Just for the record, I said “I love you” first, followed by the date.
“I’m just saying,” she’d said, “one day we’ll be happy we preserved this moment. Our grandchildren will look back through our photos and feel inspired that their grandmother had been bold enough to say it first.”
“I think they’ll be too shocked by how sexy their grandmother once was to even care who said I love you first,” I had countered.
“Are you saying I won’t still be sexy when I’m a grandma?” Dani had asked.
I’d grabbed her then, ignoring her squeals as I tossed her back onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head. I’d leaned in close, my nose inches from hers. “You might have said it first, but I hope that doesn’t diminish how much I mean it when I say it back.”
A knock sounded behind me on my open bedroom door. “Hey, Alex?”
I jumped at the sound of Dani’s voice, closing out my photos and tossing my phone onto the bed. I sat up. “Hi. What’s up?”
She eyed me curiously. Had she seen what I was looking at? “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “You okay?”
“Sure. Of course. I’m . . .” I swallowed. “Everything’s fine.” I followed her to the kitchen where the rest of the guys were already seated at the table. Isaac had something pulled up on his phone, and everyone leaned over, watching the tiny screen. Dani moved to the cabinet and pulled out six plates then started dishing up the first one.
Something didn’t sit right. It was bad enough she’d been put in this position; serving a house full of men in order to earn her keep felt archaic in a way that made me cringe. But that was between her and her brother. Still, she’d only agreed to cook. She didn’t need to serve everyone. Wait on us like we were at some restaurant.
“Hey, Dani?”
She turned around, a full plate in hand. There was a smudge of something on her cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. Spaghetti sauce, maybe? I crossed the kitchen to where she stood and motioned to the plate she held. “Here. This one is yours. You don’t have to serve the rest of us.”
“It’s not a big deal,” she said.
“But it is,” I said. “Don’t condition them to think this is how it should be. You doing all the work while they sit around. You cooked. That’s all you agreed to do. They can fix their own plates. And do the dishes.”
She huffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“They’ll learn,” I told her. “I’ll make sure of it.” I scooted behind her and nudged her toward the table. “Come on. Go sit.” I followed behind her, worried that someone at the table might say something when she sat with her own food before anyone else had a plate.
To my surprise and relief, no one did. The conversation paused momentarily, everyone seemed to internalize what was happening, and then Isaac stood and went to fix himself a plate, the others following closely behind. Maybe there was actual hope for them after all.
I watched Dani a moment longer, and something familiar surged in my chest. Something . . . protective? It wasn’t quite the right word. Dani was strong and independent and didn’t need protecting. At least not in her brother’s house. But the look on her face said she was grateful to be sitting, not serving, and it made me happy that I’d had a small part in that. And that’s what felt familiar. The desire to make her happy. Which made sense since I’d dedicated almost a year of my life to that singular pursuit.
Dani mostly stayed to herself during dinner, which was probably smart. Whenever the other guys were around, Isaac tended to amplify his teasing. Dani could hardly say anything at all without him turning it into a joke.
“Hey Dani, you going for a run in the morning?” Isaac asked his sister.
She studied him a long moment, probably trying to see if he was setting a trap. “I’m planning on it. Why?” she finally answered.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Isaac shot me a look I didn’t understand. “I was just curious. No reason, really.”
“Do you want to come with me?” Dani asked, hesitation in her voice.
“What? No,” Isaac said. “You know I don’t run unless someone’s chasing me.”
“I, uh,” Steven said. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking I might go with you. If, you know, you don’t care or anything.”
This time, Dani’s eyes flicked to me before she looked back at Steven. How had I become everyone’s emotional barometer? “Oh. Okay,” Dani said. “I guess that’s fine.”
Was Steven interested in Dani? Not that I was surprised. She was beautiful and smart and all the things any man would find captivating. But the idea still didn’t sit right in my brain. Wasn’t there some sort of bro-code that kept any of Isaac’s roommates from dating his sister?
Realization washed over me and my stomach tightened. Acknowledging just how much I wanted Dani to be happy, and how much I didn’t want Steven to run with her in the morning, felt like a giant step toward the cliff I’d been hovering around for weeks. The image of her on her bed, whiteboard in hand, I love you scrawled across the front, flashed through my mind. It shouldn’t matter, and yet it really, really did. I had fallen for her once. Hard and fast and completely. I didn’t want to watch her fall for someone else. More importantly, how was I going to be around her on a daily basis, eat her food, listen to the sound of her laugh or catch the scent of vanilla on her hair and not fall again myself?