He was less surprised to find his brother on his doorstep. They occasionally dropped by each other’s homes. That had been the sum total of their relationship outside of work, until a little over a year ago when Duncan met Jane, who insisted on inviting Niall to dinner and suchlike. He’d been Duncan’s best man at the wedding, too, an odd experience.
Am I his best friend? he had wondered. If I were getting married, who would I ask to stand beside me?
The answer had disturbed him. Duncan, of course. But sometime in the past year he’d settled into the realization that he loved his big brother, who probably loved him, too. The fact that they weren’t very good at showing how they felt didn’t mean the emotion wasn’t there.
“Hey,” he said now. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Duncan followed him in then looked around with the exact same, faintly appalled expression he had every time he came there. It said, How the hell can you live in a shoebox?
The main room of the cottage had a kitchenette, table with two chairs, sofa, one bookcase and a stand with a TV and DVD player. Not much floor space left over. It was as if the place had been designed for child-size furniture, although that wasn’t the case. Enid had told Niall that her husband had decided they needed a rental, and had built the cottage with that in mind. He hadn’t wanted to give up too much yard, though; apparently he’d had a big vegetable garden. Niall didn’t mind the close quarters, but obviously Duncan did. His visit would be short. It wouldn’t take long before he’d start looking uneasy, possibly claustrophobic, and would depart as abruptly as he’d arrived.
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