“Girlfriend,” Brady repeated.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he yelled, punching Brady in the shoulder. “Stop being such an asshole.”

“Language, Clay!”

“He started it!” Clay yelled back.

“Enough. Both of you. Can’t we just have one day of peace without you two bickering?” she asked. She turned to Chris’s mother, apologetically saying, “I’m sorry, Gina. Boys, you know.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I get it.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Now, go in and help your father. And I don’t want to hear any more complaints from you, Clay Alexander!”

Clay cringed. He knew she meant business when she used his full name. “Fine.”

He sulked past Brady and into the overly air-conditioned house. He found his father with Chris’s father, Matthew, in the study. By the time Clay got up the nerve to walk through the door, his shoulders were straight, his chin was raised, and he held all the confidence his father, Jeff, expected of a Maxwell son, all the confidence that had been instilled in him from a very young age.

“Dad,” Clay said, “Mom said you needed us.”

Brady and Chris showed up a minute later. They were laughing boisterously at something Brady had probably said.

Show- off.

But the laughter cut off abruptly when they walked into the study.

Their father wasn’t uncaring or unkind. He was a great dad actually. He’d just had a strict upbringing, and even when he tried to relax his standards toward his sons, he never seemed to manage it. The only one who got away with anything was little Savannah, and she got away with everything. His little angel could do no wrong.

“Come in and have a seat, boys. It’ll just be a minute while I finish up this memo,” Jeff said.

“Chris, why don’t we go get the steaks out of the refrigerator?” Matthew said. He walked around the desk and moved over to Chris.

“Sure thing. You’re going to let me grill yours this time, right?” he asked, elbowing his dad in the ribs.

“I don’t want mine black and burned!”

“Aw, don’t be so hard on me. That was my first time, and Pepper loved it,” he said, referencing the Labrador they had at home.

“Well, Pepper isn’t here, and I don’t want her to have any more of my choice sirloins!”

Chris cracked up.

Clay could hear them joking back and forth all the way down the hallway. He wondered what that must be like as he turned back to his own father. He was handwriting the memo that he would mail off to his secretary in D.C. to type out and deliver for him.

It shouldn’t matter that Clay couldn’t joke around with his dad. He was important. A sitting senator in Washington. He drafted bills and created legislation, turning the tide of the country. It made his absences in their lives acceptable. And as Clay’s mother continually reminded him, they were incredibly fortunate, and he should act like it.

Brady and Clay took the open seats in front of their father’s desk. His leg bounced impatiently. If we were going to have to sit there for another half hour, waiting for him to be done with his paperwork, why had he bothered to call us to help him grill?

“Sorry,” Jeff said. He pushed the paperwork away from him. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. One day, you’ll understand.”

“I already understand,” Brady said.

His father smiled a politician’s smile. “I believe you do.”

“I get it, too,” Clay said immediately. He didn’t. Not really. Sure, he understood the work his dad was doing, but he thought it was crappy that it came before his family.

Clay didn’t want a family. Then, there would be no one in his life to disappoint.

“One day, Clay. One day at a time,” his father said.

Clay’s face fell.

“Now, tell me about your day while we go get the grill started.”

Brady launched into a story about the day’s events. He had a knack for telling stories in a way that made the listener feel like they were actually there. Even Clay could get engrossed in his brother’s stories, but he saw the fabrications and exaggerations for what they were.

As such, Clay was mostly ignored the rest of the afternoon as they spent time around the grill and then throughout the rest of the afternoon while they ate the delicious food they’d made and lounged around the deck until the sun disappeared over the horizon.

“Jeff, that’s your last one,” Marilyn prodded her husband, trying to urge Savannah upstairs to go to sleep.

Gina was doing the same to Lucas while she held a passed out baby Alice in her arms.

His father laughed and held the beer out to his wife. “I’ve only had a couple, Marilyn.”

“Don’t get sloppy,” she warned with a glint in her eye.

“Never. I’ll come tuck in Savannah in a minute,” he promised.

When she left, he conspiratorially leaned forward toward his sons. “Find a woman like that, boys. She’ll make you happy forever.”

Brady listened, enraptured by their father’s attention. Clay just thought talking about his mom like that was disgusting.

“Let me tell you something, son,” he said, placing his hand on Brady’s shoulder.

Clay couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy.

“Once you’ve found that woman, everything will fall into place. I just know it. Then, one day, you are going to be president of the United States.”

Brady smiled triumphantly. “President?” he asked with longing in his voice.

“You’re on the right path.”

Brady as president? Clay almost snorted in disbelief. Yeah, right. Brady would make a terrible president. All he cared about was himself and how many people he could charm to be his admirers. Clay didn’t wish his brother’s form of coercion on anyone.

“And what am I going to be?” Jealous, he couldn’t help but ask.

He hated that his father had just given his egotistical brother even more motivation to act like he was above everyone else, but still he hoped that his father would say the same for him. That Clay could be president. That Clay could achieve any dream he set before himself.

His father turned to him with a thoughtful smile. “Hmm…Clay, you’re going to be the attorney general.”

Clay raised his eyebrows. “What’s an attorney general?”