Page 47 of The Wrong Brother

“You’re early,” he says, his voice low, almost teasing.

“They finished ahead of schedule,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Good,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “I’m starving.”

I follow him inside, my heart pounding with every step. There’s an air of casualness to him, but I can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface. It’s in the way he pulls out my chair, the way his eyes linger on mine just a second too long.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

ZACK

Ichose La Pergola, a three-Michelin-starred restaurant perched on a hill overlooking Rome. The dining room is bathed in soft golden light, and the glass walls offer sweeping views of the Eternal City. The domes and spires of ancient Rome shimmer against the azure sky, while manicured terraces below us frame the scene with a painterly elegance. It’s the kind of place that demands your attention, but my focus remains squarely on Jenny.

She’s sitting across from me, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her water glass. The soft curls of her hair frame her face, and the afternoon sun dances across her skin, making her look almost ethereal. She looks different due to the styling from the photoshoot, but it just makes me all the more realize just how gorgeous she is.

There is however something off…her usual brightness is dimmed, and she’s quieter than I expected.

After last night, I’m not surprised, but I do want to know…more than anything…what is now going through her head.

“How was the shoot?” I ask, my voice even, measured.

Jenny glances up at me, offering a small smile. “It went well.”

Simple and curt, and it sets me on edge, I’m worried, all other concerns aside, that I might have hurt her.

The waiter arrives with our first course…delicate plates of handmade ravioli drizzled with truffle oil. I nod my thanks, but the sight of the food barely registers. My mind is elsewhere.

Just like me, she’s distracted. It’s obvious. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too. Last night lingers between us like smoke…thick, impossible to ignore. I lean back slightly, my fingers brushing the edge of my glass.

“How do you feel about last night?” I ask, my voice steady.

Jenny stiffens, her fork hovering mid-air before she sets it down. Her hazel eyes meet mine briefly before darting away. “I… I don’t know,” she says softly, her voice almost drowned out by the distant murmur of other diners.

"I don’t mean to put you on the spot," I say, leaning forward slightly. "But it’s important to me that you’re okay, especially since it was your first time."

“I’m okay,” she says as she tries her best to seem engaged with her food.

I clear my throat, the tension in the air thick as I try to approach the subject delicately. “Have you thought about… birth control?” The words feel heavier than I anticipated, even as I keep my tone neutral.

Her head snaps up, her hazel eyes widening like I’ve just asked something far more intimate. She’s startled, maybe even embarrassed, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve overstepped.

“I…” she starts, but her voice falters. She looks down quickly, her fingers fidgeting with the napkin in her lap. Her cheeks flush, and I can see how much the question has thrown her off.“I’ve never really thought about it before,” she admits, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.

I nod, keeping my expression composed even though her vulnerability hits harder than I expect. It’s not just the situation…it’s her. The way she’s trying to process everything while still grappling with the enormity of last night.

“If it would make you more comfortable,” I say gently, keeping my voice as steady as I can, “I can help you arrange something. I don’t want this to be another thing you have to worry about.”

She shakes her head slightly, her fingers tensing around the edge of her napkin. “There will be no need for that,” she says finally, her voice steady but distant, the implication sharp and deliberate.

Her words settle over me like a weight. There will be no need for that.

I sit back slightly, my gaze fixed on her face as she avoids my eyes, her attention resolutely on her plate. It’s not the words themselves that sting…it’s the implication beneath them. She doesn’t expect…or want…this to happen again. My chest tightens in a way I wasn’t prepared for, and I realize just how much last night had meant to me, against all logic, against all my better judgment.

I take a sip of water, letting the cool liquid ground me. “I see,” I say finally, my voice steady, though the air between us feels heavier now. “I just… didn’t want you to feel alone in dealing with this. That’s all.”

Jenny’s eyes flicker up to mine for a moment, but she quickly looks away again. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, her tone soft but evasive. She’s retreating, pulling back into herself, and it sets my teeth on edge…not because I blame her, but because I don’t know how to reach her right now.

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