Chance stood and wandered over to the mantle, shaking his head.
Will finally spoke. “You used to just bring them home. You were discreet and only the ones who wanted notoriety ended up in the rags. I’ve read this most recent one’s file and she’s not the type to seek the spotlight. You slipped up and this looks bad, Michael. We look bad.”
He couldn’t believe it. They thought he’d fucked some random woman and then set her up for media abuse. Holy shit. He buried his face in his hands, wishing to hell he hadn’t had a drop to drink. Even on top of his game, this would be absurd.
“Uh, oh,” Chance said. “Come here, Will.”
Will stood and joined his brother.
“It’s like a shrine or something,” Chance whispered.
“I’m not deaf, you assholes.” And it wasn’t a shrine… well, maybe it was. She deserved a shrine. His gaze flitted to the papers on the coffee table, and he had to shut his eyes again. She certainly deserved a lot better than that.
“So, how about letting us in, because maybe we read this wrong,” Will said, holding the photo of the two of them in Central Park. “Perhaps the citadel needs to open the gates for once.”
“Good one,” Chance said, fist bumping his brother.
“I love her,” Michael blurted, probably way too loud. The alcohol buzzing in his blood seemed to give him strength to open up to his brothers. That, or it just fucked up his filter. “I’m absolutely madly in love with her.”
“I’ll be damned,” Chance said.
Will grinned. “Claire told me this would happen. She said you’d fall hard and totally lose your shit. People with control issues often do.”
“I don’t have issues with my control. I have excellent control.” Unfortunately, the credibility of that point flew out the window along with his balance. As he teetered, then flopped back down in the chair, he realized his four drinks had been better than doubles. “And I haven’t lost my shit. I’ve lost the girl.”
After his brothers exchanged amused looks, Will said, “I don’t know if you’ve gained a sense of humor or not, but you’re pretty fucking funny.”
He didn’t feel funny. Nothing was funny. His chest had felt hollow since that horrible day of the wedding, and nothing, not even work, could relieve the ache. “I have to get her back.” He couldn’t just sit around and wait for something to happen anymore. He needed to make it happen. Clancy jumped in his lap and he hugged the dog close. “How do I get her back, Clancy?” He knew how silly this looked: a grown man wearing only underwear, hugging a dog wearing a bow in its hair—and he didn’t care.
Chance came over and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Do what you do best. Think it through and create a plan. Do that chess game thing in your head you’re so good at and anticipate every move before you make your play.”
After straightening out the pictures on the mantle, Will returned to the sofa. “Tell us what you need, and we’ll help. I think you’re way out of your element here, and if you do what Chance says, and return to your logical way of reasoning things through, you’ll come up with a solution.”
Still hugging the dog to his chest, he tried to come up with a starting point, but couldn’t focus.
“I’m glad we’re not doing some freaky sex addiction intervention here,” Chance said. “I really wasn’t up to that.”
“Me neither,” Will agreed, rolling up the papers and tucking them under his arm. “We’ll leave you in peace, Michael.” He gave his brother an affectionate punch in the shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. Let us know if you need anything.”
He loosened his grip on Clancy and met his brothers’ eyes. “I know I act like an asshole big brother most of the time, but I really do love you guys.”
“He’s definitely drunk,” Chance said, and they all laughed.
Will paused before opening the door. “Hey, Mikey. Be sure you put some clothes on if you decide to wander out. The tabloids would have a heyday with you traipsing around in your underwear.”
To Michael’s chagrin, Chance picked up one of the sweaters from the table. “Dude! Better being caught in your underwear than in this! What the fuck?” He held it by the shoulders and Will busted out laughing from the open door.
“There is no explanation, drunk or sober, I can give for that. It defies explanation.”
“He has found a sense of humor,” Will said.
“Nah. It’s just the booze talking,” Chance said before the door shut. “He’ll get his serious back when sober.”
Michael stared at the closed door for a long time. They’d advised him to use his logic and formulate a plan. Go with his strong points. Well, that’s what had had gotten him in a shit ton of trouble in the first place.