Page 86 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“Stanley Tucci.” The answerwas too quick.

“Stanley Tucci,” Irepeated, wondering if he’d walk it back. “Stanley Tucci came toyour sex island and brought you a DVD of one of his classicmovies.”

“Uh…”

“World-renowned actor, foodie, and devastatingly hot bald manStanley Tucci came to your sex island and brought you a DVD of oneof his classic movies and the movie he chose to bring youwasThe Devil WearsPrada.” A part of me wondered if thescenario I described wasn’t as outlandish as I’d made it sound.Matt had tons of money. He probably did have famousfriends.

But caught in his lie, ittook him a moment to answer. “Well…TheLovely BonesorSpotlightwould have beenthematically inappropriate.”

“Ew!” I exclaimed. “Matt,are you living here?”

He looked away. “Notliving.I would call itstaying. I’m staying here.”

“I thought you went back toNew York!”

“I did,” he said, holdingup his hands again. “That wasn’t a lie. I went back to New York,but things weren’t the same. Or they were. And that might have beenthe problem.”

I sat beside him and put myhand on his knee. His cargo-shorts-wearing knee. Ugh. I’d becritical of his wardrobe later. Right now, there was something elsegoing on. “What do you mean by that?”

He stretched his injuredleg out, the one I had my hand on. “I got a lot of sympathy. Andnone of it was about the right things. I was attacked by a bear,but everyone was concerned with the walking.”

“If it helps, I wasimpressed that you survived the bear attack.” I hadn’t beenthrilled, exactly, that he’d chosen to announce our sexualdalliance to the entire wedding… That was a conversation foranother time. “So, you’ve been down here fucking your caresaway?”

“No. Not really,” headmitted, hanging his head as if he were ashamed of his lack ofpromiscuity. “I’ve been down here eating room service and playingvideo games.”

“That’s… sad, dude.” Therewas no sense in coddling him, but his pain was like a pulsing forcebetween us, and I didn’t want to increase it through my honestyeither. “And you’re sure you still wanted me to come down here?Because if you’re going through something—”

“No, I wanted you here,” hewas quick to reassure me. “This is going to sound so pathetic but…You’re the only person who hasn’t shown me weird sympathy throughthis.”

“Hey, I’ve beensympathetic,” I said softly.

“No, you’re bad atsympathy,” he said with a soft chuckle. “That’s why I said ‘weirdsympathy.’ Other people seemed to agree with me and encourage myself-pity when I made this out to be a tragedy. You made fun of mewhen I acted like the world would end because I have a limp andsometimes need to use a cane.”

“It was funnier when youhad to use that walker with the tennis balls on the ends.” Isnorted at the memory of the photo he’d sent me when he’d stillbeen high on painkillers all the time.

“That’s exactly what I’mtalking about,” he said. “I knew you’d be able to hang with me andhave fun and not encourage me to wallow in self-pity like my entirelife was over.”

I looked down at the gnarlypurple scars on his leg. Not just the jagged slashes from the bear,but the long, straight one where they’d cut him open to try to fixthe damage caused by the blood clot. I reached down and traced itlightly with one fingertip. “I was scared when this happened. I wasscared about the whole thing. Bear included.”

“That makes two of us,” hesaid grimly.

I slid from the bench anddropped to my knees in front of him, taking his foot in my lap. “Idon’t give a shit about how you walk. And I don’t care about yourself-pity. Life changes.” I leaned forward and planted a kiss onthe whorls of warped flesh on his calf. “Suck it up.”

He covered his face andlaughed, pulling his leg back. “All right. Let’s go todinner.”

“And after dinner…lubeorgy?” I proposed hopefully.

He cupped my cheek, and Ileaned into his touch. He ran his thumb over my lower lip.“Whatever my princess wants.”

I wanted him. I just had to figure outhow to stop wanting him before the wanting messed up our goodthing.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

(Matthew)

Somehow, in a few minutes,Charlotte had managed to do for me what the therapist I’d run awayfrom hadn’t been able to do: make me see that the situation with myleg was not the end of my life.

After a perfectly lovely dinner at thesushi restaurant where she ate her body weight in sashimi,Charlotte was eager to get back to the castle.

---