Weaving through light traffic, my mind is so clear. I’m finally ready to break free of the cage my father has had me in my whole life. So what if they disown me. Is the relationship worth having if it takes more than it gives?
There’s a car in George’s second parking spot so I turn into a visitor spot. George meets me at the lobby door, shirtless in a pair of light jeans with paint splatters on them.
“Don’t ask yet,” I say, holding my hand up as his mouth opens. He follows me as I storm up the steps of the fourth floor walk-up. The only sound is my echoing footfalls. My brother’s feet are bare and noiseless.
“I’m staying here.” I throw my bag on his sofa and kick off my heels. “And you will not tell our parents.”
“Hello, George, how are you? Nice evening, isn’t it?” he says mockingly.
“Hello, not a nice evening, George, obviously!” I roll my eyes.
“Okay,” he says, elongating the word. “Something to drink?”
“Got any whiskey?” I ask, throwing myself as equally unceremoniously on the sofa as I did my purse. I look over his stylish walls noticing some new art in bold, romantic colors. He’s got some new metal pieces on the walls as well that I recognize as his. “Some dick parked in your second spot. You need to call the super and get him towed.”
“I’ve got beer. But it’s the cider stuff,” he calls out from the kitchen.
“No scotch? Rye? Vodka?”
“I’ve got some chardonnay or there’s a bottle of merlot in the wine rack.”
I curl my lip and toss a look over my shoulder at him as he enters the living area. He shrugs.
“I think I was supposed to be the boy and you were supposed to be the girl.” There’s a chuckle from down the hall and my eyes dart to my brother’s. I jab a finger toward the voice, mouthing the words ‘Who’s that?’
“He is the girl,” a man says, laughing as he enters my brother’s living area. “I’m the man.” The tall, dark, and handsome, equally shirtless man walks to me with his hand shoved out. “I’m Noah. A.K.A the dick that parked in George’s second space.”
I take his hand and shake, but I’m too dumbfounded to speak. He’s beautiful with chiseled features, dark mocha skin, and short cropped curls. His wide smile shows more than just straight white teeth. It shows a charming sense of humor.
“Sorry for calling you a dick,” I say, feeling a little sheepish.
“I’m the fiancé.”
My head twists so fast to look at my brother, my neck cracks. “Whose?” My mouth hangs open when I see the look my brother gives the man beside me.
Ohhhh.
“She doesn’t know.” George walks over to me with a cider beer. “Akari, I’m gay.” He pulls the top of the can with a hiss and hands it to me and then flops right down on the couch where I had been sitting. He reaches up, pushing my jaw up so my mouth closes and I smile.
“You are,” I state with a nod, thinking it feels right. So right I should have pieced it together sooner. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I cross my arms, a pout replacing my smile.
“I thought you knew. The signs were all there, Akari.” He shrugs. “No girls, lots of male friends, the way I ogled Landon with you at the club. Seems like it would be obvious.”
“Do our parents know?”
His answer is a laugh.
“And the engagement? Why didn’t you tell me about that? Or even that you had someone in your life?”
George’s brow shoots up. “How many times have I listened to your rants on marriage being nothing more than a societal convenience? That love is a farce.”
“Oh.” Guilt swirls in me. My poor brother had kept this wonderful secret from me because of my jaded theories on love. “I’m so sorry.” I smile then. “I’m so happy for you both. I’m the sister, by the way,” I say.
“Now that is obvious.” He points to some family photos George has on a small shelf. “I’m happy to finally meet you. George talks about you a lot.”
I notice dark purple and red paint splatters on his skin. I look to the walls and then back at him.
“You’re the painter.”