Everett was still radiating an ugly heat from witnessing the exchange between Evan and Klair.
He absorbed it all in the moment because he had no other choice. But now, still standing in their kitchen a full minute later, he realized how much their little argument had actually shaken him. Her eyes were … intense. Thinking about it now, Everett wondered if that expression had been bred more from hurt or from anger.
He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he should do. Waiting around for Evan was surely a mistake. The kids had probably been in bed for a while. And he really didn’t want Klair coming back into the kitchen while he was still there. Not while her eyes looked like that.
He should get out of here and back to the guest house.
But Klair walked in before he could leave, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
She picked up her empty goblet. But instead of walking to the sink, she went to the wine rack.
“Red or white?” She looked at Everett expectantly.
He didn’t want either, if it meant getting entangled with a tipsy Klair. He should go to bed and give Evan some space to talk things through with her. But maybe he could help his brother out. Calm her down by having a drink with her.
Besides, impending financial doom was not the most restful situation to be in. He would sleep better if he had a glass or two in him.
“Whatever you’re having.”
She grabbed a bottle and a second glass, and poured far too much wine for both of them. Hopefully Evan would be done talking with Jazz before they’d drunk a quarter of it.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he said, accepting the overfull glass she handed him.
“Shh,” she said.
Everett didn’t know what that meant. Was he not supposed to say anything about yesterday, or anything at all? He took a sip to kill some time, knowing he needed to get out of the kitchen. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
“I should never have inserted myself into the—”
“I said shh.” She pointed to his glass with what was left of hers. “Drink.”
“I’m not really—”
“You can leave when you’re finished.”
So he drank, not too fast, but more than a casual sip, and definitely more than he wanted. His glass was still half-full, or perhaps in this situation half-empty was more like it.
“What has it been like, working at the restaurant?” she asked, refilling her already-empty glass.
“Are you sure—”
“Am I sure what, Rhett?” She glared at him, daring him with her eyes.
“That you want to know what it’s been like working at the restaurant,” he replied like a coward.
“Why wouldn’t I want to know that?”
“Because isn’t that part of the problem here?” What in the hell was he saying? “That Evan is always talking about work?”
“Evan is always talking about work,” she agreed, her words more slurred than before. “Do you always talk about work, Rhett? Is that why you’re divorced?”
“That was part of it, yes.” So. Uncomfortable. “But watching Evan work, it’s inspiring how much your husband puts in. He’s giving me great ideas that I can’t wait to try once I’m back home.”
“And when will that be, Rhett? How much longer will you be living right outside our house?” Despite her slurred words, Klair’s voice was so perfectly neutral that Everett had no idea if she was asking him to stay, or telling him to leave.
“I’ll be going home as soon as Tequila Mockingbird opens.”
“Listen to you: Tequila Mockingbird.” She laughed. “Just like you’re one of the family.”
Words he longed to hear, but without the sarcasm.
Everett glanced down at his half-full glass, then drank the rest of his wine in several large gulps.
“Whoa there, tiger,” said Klair.
“I was thirsty,” he lied.
“No you weren’t,” she slurred. “You want to get away from me.” A sideways smile. “Isn’t that right, Rhett?”
“I do think it’s time to go.”
“You’re uncomfortable because you care.”
That is not at all why I’m uncomfortable.
“You’re uncomfortable because you know that Evan doesn’t care about us. At least not like he used to.” Her words were coming more frantically. “You know because you’re new to the situation. You can see how he is now instead of how he used to be.” She stopped, just long enough to show Everett the depths of her sorrow. “He hasn’t cared for a long time, Rhett. Not about us. Not like he cares about his stupid restaurant.” Then she corrected herself. “Restaurants.”
“That’s not true, Klair.”
“What do you know?” Now it looked like she wanted to spit on him.
“As we were coming home, Evan said that he was always talking about balancing the two restaurants, but that he really needed to think about balancing his family.”
“My husband is great at thinking. And doing, assuming the doing involves his career.”
“It won’t be much longer until the restaurant is open, and—”
“So: restaurant first.”
“He really is trying hard.” And honestly, it felt like Klair was refusing to see Evan’s side of things. “I know he wants to fix what’s breaking, or broken, and that’s one of the reasons I’m still here. Because I know that once the restaurant is open, Evan will be family first. I want to help make that happen.”
“Listen to you.” Klair set her glass on the counter. “Not only are you working your ass off in your brother’s restaurant, you’re also working overtime to save his marriage.”
“I’m just doing what he would do for me.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Klair said with a fragile shake of her head.
And then her lips were on his.
He pushed her away. “This can’t happen.”
“You know you’ve thought about it.” She tried again.
And again he pushed her away. “Evan would be furious with me.”
“So that’s the only reason.” Klair made eyes at him. “What if I asked his permission … what would you say then, Rhett?”
“Nothing. I wouldn’t say anything.”
Everett turned to leave, but she darted in front of him.
“I bet you would say something.”
Then she jumped into his arms and pressed her lips to his again.
Everett pushed her away … just as Evan entered the kitchen with a roar.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?”
“I was trying to remember what it was like when you used to want me,” Klair said.
“I wasn’t doing anything …” Everett raised his hands. “Not to drag out the old cliché this isn’t what it looks like, but from my side, man, it really really isn’t.”
“Please do just shut up, Rhett,” Klair suggested.
Evan glared at her.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I should go.”
“Really?” Evan reeled toward his brother. “You don’t want to finish what you started?”
“He didn’t start anything,” Klair said.
“The only thing you could have possibly seen me doing is pushing her away.”
“Jesus Christ, Rhett.”
Was Klair insulted that he’d rejected her, or disgusted that he seemed to care more about Evan’s feelings than hers?
“Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.” When everyone was sober. Because the wine was hitting him all at once, and as intoxication mingled with his adrenaline rush, the wave of dizziness just about knocked Everett off his feet.
“He won’t talk to me if you leave, Rhett. Not about this. He’ll bitch at me for drinking and he’ll be pissed at me for weeks about my trying to kiss you. But he won’t ever talk about the real problem.”
Evan seemed paralyzed. Everett could relate. That was always how he felt when Clara started in on him.
Klair continued. “Every time you’ve had a chance to put your family ahead of the restaurant, things went the other way around instead. You live in this dreamland where Harmony and Jazz are all grown up. Where they don’t need us anymore and you can be gone all day and night, every day of the week if that’s what it takes. You act like I don’t need you. Like I don’t miss you. Like I don’t have feelings or wants … or goals that have nothing to do with yours!”
It was like déjà vu, the same fight he’d had with Clara the day before she announced her desire to get a divorce.
Evan waited for Klair to take another breath before he responded. “I hear everything you’re saying, and you’re right, I’ve been putting my career in front of you guys. And I can see how that’s affecting Jazz and Harmony. How it’s affecting us. We’re not the team we used to be, and I know that’s all my fault.”
“But,” she sneered. “Go ahead and say it, because there’s always a but.”
“Everything will change once the new restaurant is open. We’re in the final stretch.”
That was the same thing he’d told Clara. Everything will change once I get the foot traffic up. We’re in the final stretch. That had been his mistake, thinking it was all about the restaurant, when it had really been all about Clara’s feelings. If he’d made her happiness a condition of the restaurant’s success, instead of making the restaurant’s success a condition of her happiness, they might still be together.
And now he had to stand by and watch his brother make the same mistake.
“We’ve been in the final stretch for months, Evan. And you’ve been racing down every twist and turn of that final stretch going thirty miles over the speed limit, while I’m sitting shotgun without a seatbelt!”
“I under—”
“I DON’T THINK YOU DO!”
“You’re both right, and you’re both wrong,” Everett tried.
But that was the wrong thing to do.
They turned toward him in unison, angrier at him than they were with each other.
“I’m just—”
“You’re just nothing,” Evan cut him off. “Actually, never mind. You are just something. You’re just leaving. Get the hell out of here.”
“I—”
“Now.” Evan’s eyes were harder than Everett had ever seen them. “I don’t need a twin, especially one like you. No need for an adios in the morning.”
His eyes bored into Everett’s. The meaning in his gaze couldn’t be clearer.
You’ve done enough damage here.