Page 55 of Where Happiness Begins

“Yeah.”

Again, I’m hit by how little I know of him. I didn’t even know he wasn’t a Boston native until this moment.

Brandon’s eyes narrow, and I want to disappear as the two men fall silent, the tension nearly unbearable.

Finally, Brandon breaks the stare down, but only to fall on me. “Where are my manners? I’m Brandon. Andrew’s older brother.” I don’t miss the way he emphasizesolderas if that makes him superior. “And you are?”

“Lilianne,” I say, shaking the hand he’s extended my way.

I don’t know what else to say, until Carter’s arm wraps around my waist and he adds, “My wife.”

A wave of heat rushes over me, one I’ve been trying my hardest to avoid since the kiss. We moved on since that day in my bedroom, never once bringing it up again, acting as if it never happened, like promised. So long as we keep our distances, I can pretend. My body doesn’t become attuned to his the moment he steps into a room. I don’t have the urge to turn toward his voice like a flower rotates to face the sun. I can forget about it all.

And yet the second he squeezes me against his hard body, claiming me in front of his brother like I’m something he can be proud of, all those efforts go to waste.

Brandon’s head jerks back as if he’s been hit. “Wife?”

Carter doesn’t answer, only squeezing me tighter. And for some reason, it doesn’t feel possessive or defensive, but more like he needs me as a buoy.

I’ll gladly save him from rough waters anytime.

I put my hand over the tense grip he has on my hip. “It was sudden,” I say, smiling like a lovesick fool who had no choice but to marry the guy she fell hopelessly for. “We couldn’t wait to get married and decided to do something small, just the two of us.” Not a lie per se.

I don’t need to hear Carter’s words to feel his relief that I took over the conversation.

“Huh,” Brandon says, looking us up and down. The over-the-top cheeriness is gone, replaced by a coldness that makes me glad for Carter being so close to me. He hisses through his teeth, then asks Carter, “That the reason you left?”

Carter tenses. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Keep you accountable for fucking it all up?”

“That’s it, we’re going.” Carter leans over to pick up my purse and strings it over his arm.

“Same fucking Andrew, heh? Running like a coward the second shit gets hard.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, and frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about it. I take a step closer, ignoring Carter’s hand tugging on mine. “I don’t care who the hell you think you are. You don’t talk to him like that. Ever.” I might be half his weight and a head smaller, but he could be a giant for all I care.

Air puffs my chest as I get ready to hand his ass over to him, but once again, Carter pulls me away. “Let’s go. It’s not worth it.”

“Got your girl fighting your battles for you now? New low, even for you.”

“He doesn’t need me to do shit for him,” I hiss in that asshole’s face. “The difference is he actually has someone there for him.” I make a show of looking around. “Where’s your person?”

His nostrils flare. Bingo.

“You’re right,” I tell Carter over my shoulder. “Let’s leave.” But not before Iaccidentallystep right onto Brandon’s toes.

We don’t look back at where his brother curses before we walk out of the restaurant hand in hand.

“I don’t know how you kept your calm,” I say as we sit down on a quiet patch of grass in Boston Common. We walked in silence from the burger joint to here as if we both needed some time to process the chaotic moment that had just happened. The park is full on this beautiful June day, groups of young people playing Spikeball to our left while women push strollers down the path to our right. The weather is perfect, with a cool breeze coming from the water making the heat bearable, the beginning of a promising summer. “I’d have blown a fuse if I were you.”

“I saw that.”

I push his foot with mine, then try to fight the scowl that’s threatening to overtake my face as I think back to how that prick acted. “I didn’t like the way he talked to you.”

The left side of Carter’s lips ticks, the way it does when he’s refraining himself from smiling too big. “I saw that too.”

I groan.

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