Page 29 of Twins For My Bestie's Brother

“I mean, doesn’t he realize it’s not very romantic that he can be here for a month to get you back because he’s unemployed? Will isn’t a very good thinker,” my mother says.

I laugh. “I didn’t think about that. But yeah. It’s embarrassing for him.”

“So, you talked with him?” Mom asks nervously.

“Yeah, he made it kind of impossiblenotto, but . . . ” I trail off. “Jackson was really good about it.”

Mom smiles. “Of course he was.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Mom.”

“I’m just saying.”

I grab another cookie and let the silence fall. “We’re going to keep pretending.”

Mom claps her hands. “That’s great, that means there’s more opportunity to—”

“It’s just to get Will to back off. That’s all.” I take a bite of my cookie.

“But people were buying it,” Dad says, dusting the crumbs off his hands. “You wouldn’t keep doing it if people weren’t buying it.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess they did. Tia was so annoyed. So, we accomplished what we set out to do.”

“And then some, I bet,” Mom mutters.

“Mom. Jackson is Kayla’s brother.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

I shake my head. “Of course it does.”

Mom tips her chin up. “What does it mean, then? Has Kayla ever said you two shouldn’t date?”

“I don’t think it ever crossed her mind. Which would mean it would take her totally off guard if we—“ I stop midsentence. “And it’s just a friend helping a friend! There isn’t even anything romantic going on. Like sure, we’re going to go on fake dates and show up to things together to throw people off the scent. And,yes,we might hold hands or kiss from time to time, but—”

Mom squeals. “You kissed him!”

“Okay.” I push myself from the table. “Goodnight. I’m tired.”

“But youkissed?”

My father thankfully waves my mother off. “Long night, Sue. Give her some space.”

“Fine, fine. We can talk about it in the morning,” my mom says with a pointed look at me.

They might be annoying and a little bit meddlesome, but they’re my parents. And I love them. They’ve always wantedwhat’s best for me. Always trusted my judgment. Even when they shouldn’t have, maybe. I grab one more cookie before I head upstairs. “Thanks for the cookies.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Mom calls out.

I remember Jackson calling me sweetheart. My cheeks get hot. “Good night.”

Upstairs, I get ready for bed. I take off my earrings, remove the bobby pins from my hair, and wipe off the remains of my makeup. I change into a big T-shirt and sleep shorts, leaving my dress in a puddle on the floor. Ready for bed, I sigh heavily and give myself a once-over in the mirror on the back of the door.

Would Jackson say I’m beautiful if he saw this version of me? No makeup. No pretty dress. Just . . . Lily?

I run my fingers through my curls. They stick up in all directions once I’m done.

Staring in the mirror isn’t getting me anywhere. It’s making everything worse. So I climb into bed and start doing the notorious before-bed scroll through Instagram. Checking up on all the artists I know back in Seattle or artists I admire.

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