Page 11 of Marrying His Brother

“Were you this sure that I was going to say yes?” Emily says in a sharp tone.

I meet her gaze evenly. “I prefer to be prepared.”

“Prepared?” She raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “Or presumptuous?”

I lean back slightly, keeping my hands resting on my knees, my body language calm but firm. “Emily, this is a business arrangement. It’s what we both need. I’m not here to play games and I’m sure, neither are you.”

She reaches for the contract. ““Is there anything in here that’s going to surprise me?”

“No, of course not,” I say.

Emily’s eyes flicker down the pages, the irritation still simmering but contained. There’s something about the way she handles herself—composed, smart, always thinking. I can tell this is all acalculation for her, too, just like it is for me. But still, Daniel was a fool.

I sit back, studying her while she skims the contract. Emily is a rare kind of woman. Brains and beauty, both.

I find myself comparing her to Chloe, my ex-girlfriend. On paper, Chloe had seemed perfect—polished, stylish, the kind of woman everyone expected me to settle down with.

But it didn’t take long for the boredom to creep in. All she cared about was shopping and lunch dates, filling her days with meaningless gossip about people I didn’t know and couldn’t care less about. I wasn’t about to spend my life listening to stories about who wore what and which sale was going on.

Emily, though, she’s different. She’s got fire and purpose, something that drives her. She’s not just along for the ride—she’s steering the ship. I can respect that. She flips through the last few pages of the contract, her expression serious, then finally reaches for the pen on her desk. My breath suspends in my chest. But before I can dwell on it, she signs both copies with a swift stroke and slides one across the desk toward me.

“There, all done,” she says, her tone dry but with a hint of disbelief. She leans back in her chair, shaking her head slightly. “I can't believe I just agreed to this.”

I take the contract, glancing down at her signature for a moment before meeting her eyes. “You’re a very persuasive man, Andrew,” she adds with a small, ironic smile.

I smile back, folding the contract carefully and tucking it into my briefcase. “I’m not persuasive, we just happen to want the same thing.”

Emily waits until I look at her again, “Are we really going to keep the same wedding date?”

I shrug, keeping my tone light but matter-of-fact. “I don’t see why not. Everything’s already in place, and it’s not like we have much time to waste.”

She nods, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe? Then something dawns on me. This is herwedding, after all, and I can’t expect her to feel entirely comfortable when everything was originally set up with my brother in mind.

“But,” I add, the idea coming to me as I speak, “You should get another wedding dress if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“You think so?” she says.

I nod, completely lost when it comes to wedding dresses. I’m going with logic here and my knowledge of human nature. “Look, this is a new arrangement. I don’t want you walking down the aisle in something that was meant for a different situation. This wedding should be on your terms now, not Daniel’s.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Emily says, a studious tilt to her head, her eyes locked on mine as if I had surprised her. “Maybe I will.”

I’m about to leave when one more thing occurs to me. “I should invite you home. Come, see where I live, then you can decide if you’ll be comfortable moving in after the wedding.”

She nods, with a skeptical hint to her features, “Sounds fair.”

“And you can meet Bruno and Bear. They have the final say,” I say with a straight face.

A stricken, shocked, look comes over Emily’s face. I fight to stop from bursting out laughing. “Who are they?”

Finally, I can’t hold the laughter in any longer, “They’re my dogs.”

Emily takes a paper, crunches it up into a ball and tosses at me. It misses by a mile, landing somewhere near the corner of the desk.

We both pause for a second, and then, at the same time, burst into laughter. The tension between us evaporates, and for the first time, this whole arrangement feels almost natural. One small joke, one small laugh, and a bit of the tension they’d been holding began to ease.

“You have terrible aim,” I tease.

“Don’t make me get another paper ball,” she warns, her eyes twinkling with humor.

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