Brothers of Paradise Series

“Down from Mount Olympus to honor us mortals,” I say, putting a hand on my chest.

He hits my shoulder with an open hand. “Man, do you know how much I charge per hour?”

“No, and if you send me an invoice I won’t pay it,” I say. “Come on, let us show you around.”

Rhys and I join Ivy by the entryway. It isn’t until I’ve opened the doors that I realize Jamie hasn’t joined us.

“James,” I call. “Come along?”

She hesitates, the question clear in her eyes. “Sure?”

“Yeah. You know what shots we need for the website, I’ve heard you talk about it several times.” I grin at her. “Stephen will cover your tables, I need your brain out here.”

“Okay, sure!” She smiles back and rushes into the back office to grab a notepad.

It doesn’t take long before Ivy and I decide to leave Rhys and Jamie to their business. It’s clear they don’t need our input. As we walk away I overhear Rhys talking about shooting it more commercial and Jamie answering yes, imagine magazine, and I know I’m out of my depth.

Ivy and I talk about their recent travels instead. They’ve just gotten back from driving across the country, visiting national parks, and she’s got a tan. She’s big into fitness and health, and one topic drifts into the other, turning toward workouts.

“I just signed a new contract with a fitness brand.”

“You did?”

“Yes. We’ll be shooting all kinds of content-workouts, yoga, hiking, meditation, and cooking-in their workout gear and athleisure.”

“That’s fantastic,” I say. “Congrats. But, what the hell is athleisure?”

She laughs and explains what amounts to wearing workout clothes outside of your workouts. Apparently a lazy practice I’ve been the master of for decades has become an entire industry. Who knew?

“How are things in Paradise?” Ivy asks. “Any updates on your bachelor life?”

I lean back on the bench. In the distance, Rhys and Jamie are standing far out on one of the docks, facing the yacht club. Getting shots of the place from afar. The sun is shining, and the waves are soft.

It’d be a perfect day for sailing.

“No major updates,” I say.

“Which means you’re still enjoying it,” Ivy says with a laugh. She’s always been close to a laugh, quick to it where Rhys is reluctant.

Sure, they look stunning together, but it’s these differences that make them work. It had taken me a while to figure it out. That her lightness where he was dark, her sincerity where he thrived on nuance, was the magic between them. And beneath it a bone-deep understanding that they see one another-that my brother can be unmasked in her presence in a way that he so rarely is with anyone.

Including us.

My eyes track Jamie’s slim figure out on a dock. She’s walking next to Rhys, her arms moving animatedly as she explains something. She’s excited.

And I find myself smiling.

“I’m actually seeing someone right now.”

Ivy bumps my shoulder. “Anyone special? Someone we’ll see at the White Party?”

I snort. “Jesus. My parents have been badgering you guys about it too, I’m guessing?”

“Eloise only texts Rhys about it once a day or so,” Ivy says. “To make sure he doesn’t decide to explore a Costa Rican rainforest or something that very day.”

“It’s a definite possibility,” I say. “With him, you never know.”

She grins. “No, you never do. We’ll probably be in town for it, though. I really want to go. You guys have told me enough about it to make me curious.”

“Well, it’s definitely a town staple,” I say.

The White Party is an early August institution in Paradise Shores. The summer kicks off with the Junior Regatta and ends with the White Party along the boardwalk, with tents and flowing alcohol and live music. Tickets are sold to locals and invited-by-locals, only.

“So I’ve heard, and I’ve had one too few lobster rolls this summer,” Ivy says. “It’s not okay. Besides, Rhys misses this place when we’re not here. He doesn’t say it, but he does.”

“Well, it’s in his blood, try as he may to fight it.”

“He’s fighting it less these days,” she says easily. It’s true. Rhys has been in Paradise more since he met her than he had ever had before.

We’re all finding our way back here. Like a braid that untwisted after graduation, sending us on separate paths, is slowly starting to knot itself back together again. I’d been the first, and he’ll be the last, but we’ll all make it back. I’m sure of it.

Jamie and Rhys join us. She rocks back on her heels and shoots me a happy smile. Something squeezes in my chest.

“All good?” I ask.

Rhys nods, flicking through images on his camera. “Yes. Now I’ll bother your chef by photographing the food.” And then, muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe I’m photographing food.”

“I’ll pay you in a lobster roll when you’re done!” I call.

“Accepted,” he says. “Oh, and I’m taking the Frida out later with Ivy. I want to shoot her at sunset.”

Damn. I’d toyed with the idea of taking her out myself, but I nod. “Okay. And is Ivy okay with being shot? Because brother or not, I’ll testify.”

The girls laugh, but Rhys just rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” he says and turns on his heel, walking up toward the kitchen. I follow him. Together with Kristen, there’ll be a bloodbath if I don’t mediate.

But we get the shots, and I get my brother and his girlfriend a lobster roll, and somehow I end up in my back office with a memory card filled of images from the yacht club.

Jamie joins me to look through them. Her shift is technically over and she’s back in her normal clothes, a pair of shorts that ride high on her thighs and an oversized shirt.

She’s quiet as we scroll through the pictures. It’s a thoughtful sort of quiet. I put a hand on her thigh. “What are you thinking?”

“These are good,” she says. “They’ll be great on the website, for marketing.”

“Not about the pictures. You’re thinking about something else, I can tell. It’s not…what you told me the other night?”

The things she’d told me, about his negative comments, about her ex’s voice sometimes overshadowing her own.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, no, not at all. No. I was just thinking about Rhys and Ivy. They’re so cool.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.