Page 62 of Only and Forever
“This one...” He scoops up the white kitten. “Brie.”
“Absolutely not. We are not naming my cats for cheeses. I don’t care how color coordinated their names are.”
“Iberico.” He points to the black-and-white kitten, next the gray one. “Tyrolean.” He scratches the calico’s chin. “Mimolette.”
“Enough! You have a disturbingly unhealthy obsession with something that literally destroys your stomach.”
Oliver smiles sweetly, batting his eyelashes. “Fine. Then name them yourself, already.”
“I was getting around to it,” I grumble.
“It’s just very unlike you. I mean, Ashbury’s keys weren’t even in your hands yet, and you already had that car named. Yourplantshad names before we’d driven off the lot at the nursery. This delay is”—he clucks his tongue—“dare I say, uncharacteristic?”
I glare at my brother. Generally, I love how close we are. Right now, I am deeply resenting how well he knows me.
“Wonder why he hasn’t named you,” Oliver croons to the kittens as they congregate toward him, meowing, pawing over each other for his attention, “when he’s had you for almost two days, hmm? Wonder if it has anything to do with his ‘strictly platonic roommate’ being absent since your arrival?”
“That’s it,” I tell him. “Get out.”
“I’m good staying right here,” he says breezily, lying back on the rug, letting the cats crawl up his chest. “Thanks, though.”
I groan, jumping up from the floor. “Fine. I will excuse myself to the bookstore, then.”
“I’m happy to cat-sit while you work,” my brother calls as I open the door to the store. “I’m sure you’re busy with prep for the soft opening. When’s thegrandopening, again?”
I scrub at the back of my neck. My chest feels tight when I think about opening the store. I know I keep moving the goalposts back, but I keep telling myself I’ll know when it’s time. Until then, a soft opening feels like the safe next step. “Not sure.”
Oliver’s quiet for a beat. “I see. Will there be a semi-grand opening next, before the grand opening? A demi-grand opening as well?”
I stop on the threshold of my home and the store, a prickling sensation running down my spine. Turning, I stare at my brother.
His expression is no longer teasing.
Mine is no longer amused.
“You got something to say, Oliver, I suggest you say it.”
Ollie sits up slowly, gaze searching mine. Finally, he gently extricates himself from the kittens and stands, hands in his pockets. “Okay, I’ll say it.”
“Great. Lower the boom.”
He’s unusually quiet as he walks past me into the store, glancing around, before he turns and faces me. His hands leave his pockets, arms wide. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
My stomach knots. “What are you talking about?”
“This place, Viggo...” Oliver looks around. “I’m no expert on running a bookstore, but it’s ready. It’sbeenready since the night the family was here. Your inventory is bursting off the shelves. You have your pastry recipes down to a science, a coffee machine that practically makes the drinks itself. Your plants have flowered since we were here!” His voice is louder now, his cheeks pink. He’s fired up. “What are you waiting for? Why don’t you just open those damn doors and let yourself succeed already?”
“Because I don’tknowif I’ll succeed!” I yell.
His eyes widen.
“Because,” I tell him, my voice shaking, “I’ve never done this, Oliver. Never poured this much of myself into one thing, and I’m fucking scared I’ll fail. I am a ‘diversify your existential portfolio’ kind of guy, and I just went all in on this place. If it fails,Ifail...” My voice breaks. I cover my face with my hand, exhaling heavily. I’m dangerously close to crying.
Oliver’s arms wrap around me, tight and reassuring. His chinrests on my shoulder. “This isnotgoing to fail,” he says, confident, calm. “And even if, somehow, it didn’t work out the way you hoped,youwould not be a failure. You would grieve and then pick yourself up, brush yourself off, move forward.” He’s quiet for a second, hugging me harder. “It’s not going to fail, though.”
“How do you know?” I croak.
Oliver smiles. I feel it in his cheek against my ear, the upswing in his voice. “Because everything you do, Viggo, you do excellently. Because as long as I can remember, I have known that my brother could do any damn thing he set his heart on, and do it spectacularly. Because I’m looking around here, at this dream you’ve built, beautiful and intentional, on the brink of wild success, and I know the only thing stopping it from already being that is your lack of faith in yourself. Open its doors wide and believe in yourself.”