Page 67 of The Wrong Brother

I stiffen at the mention of Zack, my fingers freezing mid-fidget. “No, he didn’t,” I say carefully, keeping my tone light.

Brett chuckles, glancing at me briefly. “Good. Sometimes he can be... intense. Efficient, yeah, but also stuck-up as hell.”

I force a small laugh, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. “He was fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Brett teases, his tone playful. “I hope he wasn’t too intimidating. I mean, the guy’s got this whole brooding CEO vibe, but he’s not all bad. Mostly.”

I don’t respond immediately, my mind swirling with images of Zack…his rare, unguarded smiles, the warmth of his touch, the way he made me feel both seen and exposed at once. The thought sends a pang through my chest, and I quickly push it away.

“He was fine,” I repeat softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Brett doesn’t push further, and the rest of the drive is marked by small talk that feels forced, like we’re both trying too hard to fill the silence. When we finally pull up in front of the restaurant, I exhale, relieved for the change of scenery.

The restaurant is breathtaking…warm lights, soft music, and an air of sophistication that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into another world. Brett places his hand lightly on my back as we’re led to our table, and I let myself relax, just a little. This is what I’ve always wanted, I remind myself. Brett, charming and attentive, treating me like I matter.

The dinner starts smoothly. He orders a bottle of wine without even glancing at the menu, and I let him take the lead, trying to savor the moment. We talk about my time in Paris, my modeling career, and his usual antics that always seem to leave him unscathed. His laugh is infectious, his stories full of humor and bravado, and for a while, I let myself get lost in the fantasy of it all.

But then he asks about Zack again.

“So, what’s it like traveling with him? I imagine it’s... intense.”

The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate. “It was fine,” I say, my tone sharper than I intend.

Brett raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine again? That’s all you’ve got? Come on, Jenny, don’t hold out on me.”

I force a laugh, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to tell. Zack is... Zack.”

“Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “All business, no fun. Must’ve been exhausting.”

You have no idea, I think, but I keep the words to myself. Instead, I smile tightly, changing the subject to the food. Brett lets it go, but the conversation feels heavier after that, like we’re both aware of the unspoken tension lingering between us.

As the night goes on, I do my best to focus on him, to remind myself of all the reasons I’ve wanted this for so long. Brett is charming, sweet, and everything I used to dream about. But as he takes my hand across the table and smiles at me, I can’t helpbut feel like something’s missing. Like a part of me is somewhere else…somewhere I shouldn’t be.

Eventually, we head back home, and just like that, the night I had dreamed of for so long and for so many years comes to an end, and I cannot believe how underwhelmed I am.

I don’t even wait for him to get the door for me. I get out myself, trying my best to force a smile, trying my best to convince myself that this was all I’ve ever wanted.

He comes after me, smiling and excited, and suddenly that playful ease of his is not something I want to be around and fancy. It’s not special, I realize as I stop and turn around to wait for him. Zack rarely smiles in this way, and so when he does, the moments he does with me hit like the entire world filled with light.

Now I know the very stark difference between genuine and niceties, and it almost makes me sick to my stomach that I didn’t see this from the very beginning.

The front porch feels colder than it should, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the car Brett just stepped out of. He stands before me, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, the faintest smile on his lips as he glances toward the sprawling estate behind me.

“I should head back to my apartment in Manhattan,” he says after a moment, his tone light but edged with something I can’t quite place. “Long day tomorrow.”

I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Relief rushes through me, sharp and immediate, though it brings its own weight of guilt. I’d been dreading the possibility of things escalating tonight, and now that it won’t happen, I feel unmoored by how glad I am. But yet and once again I grapple with myself for being so conflicted about this? Worried that I’m making a mistake. This is Brett. The Brett I’ve wanted forever. I should want more.

“Did you have a nice time tonight?” he asks, and I work up a smile, nodding.

“I did,” I reply. “Thank you for going the extra mile. I truly appreciated it.”

He beams, floored by the compliment, and then he comes in a little closer to me.

I want to step back out of instinct, but it takes all the restraint in the world not to.

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and then he leans in.

The kiss is soft, measured, like he’s testing the waters. His lips are warm and skilled, moving against mine with practiced ease. It’s everything a kiss with Brett Jackson should be…sweet, unhurried, and perfectly executed. I kiss him back because it feels like the right thing to do. Because isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for?

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