Page 57 of Marrying His Brother

I really need to get going if I’m to have enough time to get ready for the date with my husband. It feels nice saying that. My husband.

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I stand in front of my mirror applying the last touches of mascara. It’s been a while since I felt this way—nervous, excited, and eager all at once.

Tonight feels different. Andrew and I have been spending time together, sure, but this is a real date. I want to look perfect.

I take a step back and assess my reflection. My dress is a deep shade of blue, hugging my body in all the right places. It’s elegant but understated, something I hope he’ll like.

I’ve spent way more time on my makeup than usual—soft smoky eyes, a touch of blush, and a nude lip. My hair is styled in loose waves, cascading over my shoulders.

I smooth down the front of my dress, my heart beating a little faster as a knock comes on my bedroom door.

“You look beautiful,” Andrew says the moment I open the door, his eyes taking me in with an appreciative gleam.

A rush of pleasure swamps me, warming my cheeks. “Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice a little breathless. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He’s wearing a dark suit, tailored perfectly to his lean, muscular frame. The white shirt underneath is crisp, and there’s a hint of cologne that fills the space between us.

For a moment, I forget to breathe. He looks incredible. The suit jacket molds to his broad shoulders, and the dark fabric makes his blue eyes stand out even more.

He smiles, that slow, easy smile that always makes my heart skip. “Ready?”

I nod, grabbing my clutch. “Let’s go.”

We talk about our day as we drive to the restaurant.

“No more work talk,” Andrew says when he parks the car.

“I agree,” I say intrigued at what his plans are for the evening.

The restaurant is beautiful, all soft lighting, plush chairs, and elegant décor. The host leads us to a table by the window, and Andrew pulls out my chair for me, a gesture that’s both gentlemanly and a little old-fashioned. I love it.

Once we’ve ordered a bottle of wine, the conversation flows easily. Over time, it grows more personal.

“So, how were you in school?” Andrew asks, swirling his wine glass, his eyes fixed on mine. “Were you the popular girl, or the bookworm?”

I laugh, thinking back. “A little of both, actually. I was friendly, but I didn’t like being the center of attention. What about you?”

“I was studious,” Andrew says with a cute grin. “Daniel was the one who got all the attention. But I liked it that way. It gave me space.”

There’s a moment of silence, an uncomfortable pause before I ask. “Did you and Daniel get along?” They are so different. It’s hard to believe that they come from the same set of parents.

“For the most part. He’s the typical younger brother—annoying at times but sweet when it matters.” I tilt my head. “What about you, growing up as an only child? Did you ever wish you had a sibling?” Andrew asks me.

I take a moment to think about how honest I want to be. The wine and the atmosphere has loosened my inhibitions and I decide to be honest.

“I wanted a sibling so badly when I was younger. I remember asking my mom, and she finally told me the truth. She was unable to have more kids after me.” I shrug. “I moved on after that, as kids do.”

“I guess it’s never enough,” Andrew says with a laugh. “I wanted a sister and I guess my mother longed for a daughter judging by the way she’s taken to you.”

“Speaking of which, she called me before I left the office and we agreed to have lunch next week.”

Andrew’s face lights up, then a frown follows in quick succession. “I hope it’s not a bother. She can come on too strong sometimes.”

Guilt bubbles up inside my chest when I remember how hesitant I had been. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Relief etches itself on his features. “Just let me know when she’s too much. I’ll tell her to back off.”

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