Page 76 of Unmatched

A muscle in his cheek twitches. Otherwise his face doesn’t move. “The doctors said she could be like this a while.”

“I know. That’s why I thought I could stay. Maybe check in on her in the mornings, give you a break. I could even start going through some of that stuff in the basement.”

“Anton, I donated most of that shit last year.”

“Oh.”

Seth had moved into our old house with Mom five years ago, back when she first showed signs of memory issues. It was a good plan for a while; it definitely helped to have someone around to keep the place clean and make sure she was eating and showering regularly. But then she started wandering off, and once we even had to call the police. The night she mistook the oven for a fireplace and nearly burned the place down, we knew it was time to do something else.

I keep waiting to feel as confident about what’s happening now.

“Well, still. I can spend some extra time with her.”

“Sure. Anything that helps you avoid going back to Denver,” he drawls.

I glare at him, then look around for our waitress to ask for the check.

“We haven’t talked much about Lydia since you got here,” he continues, like he’s inquiring about the stock market.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Why was it you said she didn’t come with you?”

I sit there, staring at him, but the little shit just stares back, waiting me out.

“It’s over.” I press my lips together. “There, we talked about it.” I signal the waitress.

He dips a french fry in ketchup slowly, like he’s really pondering. “Define over. Like, the existence of the dodo bird? The Rangers’ chances for the World Series?—”

“My fucking marriage, dumbass.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, you guys never did end up in the sack?”

This is what I get for sharing details with my brother. But my mind flits to those precious minutes with my face between her thighs, breathing in her sweet scent while she bucked and moaned for me Saturday night. God. That seems like a hundred years ago.

“I got her off.” I shrug. “She gave me a BJ.”

“Oof. Sounds marriage-ending,” Seth says.

My hand curls into a fist under the table. “Can we go?”

“How was it, though?” He tips his head at me.

I clench my jaw, fighting the memory of her slick lips and tongue sliding along my shaft. The way she came at me like she was hungry for it, and I thought I might explode when my tip hit the back of her throat.

“She only did it because she felt like she had to,” I mutter.

He winces. “Ooh. So, bad? Like, lots of teeth and stuff?”

I release a hot puff of air and look away.

A slow smile creeps over his lips. “Or was it good?”

I scan the restaurant again. “Where is the goddamn server?”

“So, I’m confused,” he says, ignoring me. “You both finally got laid, and by all accounts it was great. She wishes she was here with you. But you’re getting divorced?”

I snap my eyes to his face, nearly knocking over my water glass. “You talked to her?”

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