The Edge of Always

her dad gave her for emergencies. But she insisted—very stubbornly—that she pay it off herself. And she did with her half of our earnings from performing at Levy’s.

If anything at all bothers me about her, it’s this one issue. Taking care of her is what I’m gonna fucking do whether she likes it or not. And she’s gonna have to get over it.

“Let’s just enjoy a few days in Chicago, and when we get back, we’re going house shopping. Together.”

I stand up and push my chair in as if to say This isn’t up for debate.

She looks surprised, but not in a good way, and the weird smile has dropped from her face.

“No, if we’re going to buy a house then I’m going to save—”

I slash the air in front of me with both hands.

“Stop being so damn stubborn,” I say. “If you’re so worried about ‘your half’ of the money, you can always pay me back with sex and a striptease every now and then.”

Her mouth falls open and her eyes grow wide.

“What the hell?!” she laughs beneath her failed attempt at being offended. “I’m not a hooker!” She stands up and gently slaps the palm of her hand on the table, but I think it’s more to keep her balance than to protest.

I grin and start to walk away. “Hey, you brought that one on yourself.” I make it to the den entrance, and I glance back briefly over my shoulder to see that she hasn’t budged, probably still in shock. “And you’re whatever I want you to be!” I shout as I get farther away. “Nothing wrong with being my hooker!”

I catch a glimpse of her running toward me. I take off through the den, leaping over the back of the sofa like a goddamn ninja, and then out the back door of the house while she chases after me. Her shrill voice and laughter carries on the air as she tries to catch up.

* * *

Our plane lands at O’Hare late Friday afternoon. Thank God there’s not a mountain of snow on the ground. I take back one thing I said to Camryn, about moving to any place she wants to. I would definitely argue my case if she ever decided she wanted to live anywhere where snow and bitter cold is the norm in the winter. I hate it. With a passion. And I’m as freakishly giddy as Camryn seemed to be on Tuesday when I see a snowless landscape and feel the fifty-three-degree temperature on my face. A little warm for this time of year in Chicago, but I’m not complaining. Global warming? Hey, it’s not entirely a bad thing.

Aidan meets us in the terminal.

“Long time, bro,” I say, gripping his hand and hugging him. He pats my back a few times and looks to Camryn.

“Good to see you,” he says.

She hugs him tight. “You too,” she says, pulling away. “Thanks for inviting us up.”

“Well, you have to give that credit to my persistent wife,” he says and then raises a brow. “Not that I didn’t want you to come, of course.” He winks at her.

Camryn blushes, and I take her hand into mine.

Michelle has a late lunch made for us by the time we get to their house. The woman can cook. And she’s like Aidan and me when it comes to food, so it doesn’t surprise me that she made fat cheeseburgers with cheese dip on the side. And beer. I’m in food heaven right about now.

The four of us eat in the living room watching a movie on Aidan’s sixty-inch television and we talk during the boring parts about this and that. When we first got here, a small part of me was worried about Aidan or Michelle bringing up anything remotely close to the off-limits topic of Camryn’s miscarriage. But the bigger part of me knew they wouldn’t go there. I can’t even tell by looking at them that it’s on their minds at all. Aidan, probably not so much. He stays away from deep topics like that. And Michelle’s playing her cards right, making Camryn feel completely comfortable and not giving her any reason to have to think about what she wants to forget.

And I’ve never seen Camryn around Natalie the way she is right now with Michelle, so this is nice. Looks like this unexpected trip is turning out to be more beneficial than I imagined.

During one of our conversations, Aidan throws his head back and laughs. I’ll never fucking live that moment down with either one of my brothers.

“Yeah, Andrew was drunk out of his mind,” Aidan explains to Camryn to the constant rolling of my eyes, “when the modeling scout came up to him in my bar that night.”

Oh, here it comes, Aidan’s overly dramatic replay of that event. Camryn’s smiling from ear to ear and no doubt getting a kick out of watching me squirm next to her.

“The guy sat down beside Andrew on the barstool and said something about him having ‘the look.’ ” Aidan stops long enough to shake his head. “And before the guy could finish, Andrew turned to him and said with a crazy Charles Manson expression, ‘Dude, did you eat my fuckin’ peanuts?’ The look on that guy’s face was priceless. He was scared, even backed up like he thought Andrew was about to hit him.”

Camryn and Michelle laugh.

“Then the guy pulled a business card from his wallet and said, ‘Ever thought of modeling?’ and handed the card out to him. Andrew just looked at it, but didn’t take it.”

“I did take it,” I say.

Aidan smirks over at me. “Yeah, but not until after you so eloquently explained how you could never be a model because it’s for ‘guys without nutsacks’ and—”

“Yeah, all right, Aidan,” I interrupt and take a quick sip of my beer.

“Why have I never seen you that drunk before?” Camryn asks. She can’t wipe the grin off her face, loving every minute of this, and it makes me smile and give up the act. I reach out and skim her golden braid with the tops of my fingers.

“Well,” I begin, “you’ve never seen me that drunk because I’ve grown up since then.”

Michelle chokes out a laugh.

“Hey,” I say, pointing at her, “you’re one to talk, ’Chelle. I do recall the last time I was here, you dancing like a drunk stripper at the bar after a few too many drinks.”

Her mouth falls open. “I did not strip, Andrew!”

Aidan laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “I don’t know, if I hadn’t been there that night we might be divorced.”

Michelle whaps him across the face with the couch pillow she had been leaning against.

“I never would’ve stripped off my clothes,” she laughs. Aidan, unfazed by the attack, can’t stop smiling.

Neither can Camryn. I get lost in Camryn’s smile for a minute, glad to see she’s having such a good time.

Michelle adds, “You two are awful when you get together.”

“Hey, because you’re married to the dickhead,” I say, “it makes you fair game.”

“Yeah,” Aidan says. “Just be glad Asher’s not here, too, because he’s not as innocent as you think he is.”

Damn right he’s not. That little shit can be devious when he wants to be.

Michelle unfolds her legs from the cushion and stands up to clear away the plates and stuff from the coffee table. Camryn gets up, too.

“Well, I think I’ve been a Parrish long enough to know. Trust me.” She stacks the plates while Camryn helps her clear away the napkins and a few empty beer bottles.

“Why so quiet, Camryn?” Aidan says from the couch. “You may not be married to my brother yet, but you might as well be, and that makes you fair game, too.” He raises his beer toward her as if to toast and then takes another drink, grinning mischievously.

Smart brother I have. If he wasn’t so ugly, I’d kiss him on the mouth for that. Last thing I want is for Camryn to feel left out.

She smirks at him, balancing the stuff in her arms. “I guess it’s a good thing you have nuthin’ on me yet.”

“Yet,” he says, nodding once as if to underline the inevitable in that word. “Guess you have a lot of uncomfortable hazing to look forward to then, huh?”

Camryn wrinkles her cute nose at him and follows Michelle into the kitchen.