A Perfect Momen(9)

“She was important because you didn’t know her well. She wasn’t someone close to you, so you believed her intentions. Sharing your truth with someone new to you is a very similar experience. It could be incredibly enlightening.”

I huff, “And how will I find someone?”

Doc grins. “You’re a charming bloke…I’m sure you’ll find someone.”





CHAPTER 2

THE BROTHERS HARRIS



Vi

“Oi, Vi! Get your arse down here, wench! We are in desperate need of libations!”

I stop dead in my tracks on the sidewalk near my flat and crane my neck toward the faint sound of shouting coming from down the alley.

“Don’t you ignore us, Vi! We know you’re up there!” a deep, booming voice bellows. I’d know those voices anywhere.

“I think I can climb this wall. Quick, Booker, give us a lift.”

My eyes fly wide as I hear a faint groan and a scuffle. I quickly rush around the corner and peer down the narrow alley that leads into the private entrance of my flat. “Oi! Tell me I’m hallucinating!” I shout, pushing my stray blonde strands away from my face to get a better look.

My four brothers freeze like the cat that got the cream. Tanner—who’s all of twenty-three, but acts like he’s twelve—is sitting upon the shoulders of his twin, Camden, while our baby brother, Booker, is bracing his hands low in preparation for Cam’s foot.

“What the bloody hell are you all doing?” I ask. My gaze swerves accusingly to our older brother, Gareth, who’s leaning against the brick wall of my building looking thoroughly entertained.

Gareth shrugs his broad shoulders. “Just trying to determine who’s going to break a bone this time.”

“Get down, the lot of you. Dad will string you up if someone gets injured! What were you planning to achieve there?” I glance up to the fire escape ladder that’s a good fifteen feet above our heads.

Tanner drops lithely off Camden’s shoulders and says, “I figured you were up in your garden with your ear buds in and couldn’t hear us. I thought we could grab hold of the fire escape if Booker could give us a boost.” He scratches the back of his shaggy blond hair as his blue eyes squint up toward the roof. He stares off into the distance speculatively and admits, “It didn’t seem so high a moment ago.”

“I live on the eleventh floor! You were going to climb the entire way up?”

“‘Course I was. I’m made of stronger stuff than most, Vi!” Tanner says, puffing his chest out.

“And Booker?” I snap, ignoring Tanner’s cocky demeanour. “You think putting the smallest one on the bottom of this death trap was a good idea?”

“We asked Gareth but the bastard wouldn’t—” Camden starts but is cut off.

“Oi, I’m not that small anymore! I’ve been doing two-a-days.” Booker frowns and rubs his tricep defensively while maintaining his proud posture.

Truthfully, not one of them is small. They are all over six foot and athletically built. Gareth, Camden, and Tanner are more heavily muscled than Booker, but none of them have an ounce of fat on them.

I grin and rustle Booker’s brown hair affectionately. “You need a cut again.”

“Come home and give me one.” He grins sheepishly and my heart lurches at the tenderness in his eyes. I’ve only lived in my new flat for a year now, and Booker makes it no secret that he misses me living at home. I miss him too. The adorable, cheeky bugger.

“So what are you guys doing here, shouting up my neighbourhood?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips in a motherly, scolding type of way that is all too natural for me when I’m around them.

“You think you can get away with celebrating your birthday without us?” Camden replies, strolling over to me with a devilish smile. He’s such a man-whore that I can hardly look at him without rolling my eyes. He has twinkling blue eyes set in the darkest of lashes that have a way of sucking you right into his games. And of course he wears his blond hair like all the other slutty footballers, having just enough length on top to sweep off to the side. And the prat knows the women can’t resist him. I quit moaning at him about his conquests a long time ago. He’ll never change.

He throws his huge arm around my narrow shoulders and musses my hair. “C’mon, Vi. Off we go.”

I had planned on spending the afternoon on my balcony, soaking up some sun with Bruce, but it’s useless to say no to my brothers. The five of us walk through the top end of Brick Lane Market toward Welly’s Pub—the spot my brothers quickly dubbed their hangout in my neighbourhood.