Page 39 of By All Accounts
FINN
Andrew lived in 1950s style bungalow in Mission Beach, and when I knocked on his door, all I could think about was how hard the mid-century architecture would make Smith.
“Finn,” Andrew greeted me after opening the door. “I have to say I’m surprised to see you.”
“You gave me your address and told me to come down,” I countered dryly.
“You know what I meant.”
It was true, I did know what he meant.
“Hunter suggested it,” I said.
“Why on earth?” He stepped out of the way to let me in, and I followed him through a short hallway and into a small living room. I had taken Hunter’s advice and gone home after leaving his apartment. I’d showered and changed into clean clothes and, for good measure, I’d brushed my teeth twice.
“Because I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown probably and I won’t talk to him or Smith about it.”
Andrew let out a low laugh and gestured toward a brown upholstered chair that Smith would have also loved. It matchedthe house, and I had the fleeting thought that Sophie would have known the name of it. Probably even the designer.
“What about Marshall?”
“He’s never been voted best brother to pour your heart out to when we hold the annual awards.”
I sat down and smoothed my hands over the wooden arms of the chair before dropping them into my lap. This was a horrible idea, and I shouldn’t have come. I hated Hunter for recommending it, and I hated myself for going along with it.
“And me?”
“Most likely to appear out of thin air and turn everybody’s lives upside down,” I told him. “Did you not get the certificate in the mail?”
Andrew chuckled and rapped his knuckles on the counter as he walked into the kitchen.
“What do you drink, Finn?” he asked.
“Normally whiskey. But I had enough last night to hold me over a bit.”
“Beer?”
“Sure.”
My newest brother took two beers from the fridge and used a wall mounted bottle opener to pop the tops, then he joined me in a matching chair. We tapped the necks of the bottles together before taking a drink, and I turned my stare toward his ceiling.
“I’m sorry about this,” I said.
“Why?”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Finn, you’re my brother,” he said simply.
I turned toward him, and he shrugged a shoulder toward his ear like he’d just told me the sky was blue or the grass was green.
“Well.” My voice cracked. “When you put it like that.”
Andrew chuckled again and stretched out, crossing his legs at the ankles. “So, what’s up?”
More than spilling my guts, I wanted to know about the man to my left, this mysterious half-brother who had come into our lives a year ago. Andrew had searched out Hunter to make contact, and he’d come up to meet us for dinner, and we’d seen him again at the party celebrating Hunter making partner, but other than that, he stayed scarce. There was, of course, the group chat I avoided like the plague, but with two hours between us, it might as well have been two thousand miles.
“Do you want the short story or the long story?” I asked.
