Page 19 of The Arrangement
The tone, coupled with the assuredness of his statement, hits me sideways. I set my fork on the edge of my plate.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I reach for my glass.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it?” Tate asks. “You’ll never marry and know what having a wife is like. Period.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
Renn leans forward, resting his elbows on my table, and grins.Heathen.
“I’m sorry,” Tate says, amused. “Is there something I don’t know? Did you suddenly decide to be social enough to meet a woman, ballsy enough to do something as crazy as fall in love, and then have the guts to agree to be with her for all of eternity?”
Renn’s grin widens.
My cheeks heat as their gazes fix on me. I’d blame it on the wine, but I’m pretty sure it has more to do with the questions than the two drinks of alcohol.
My brothers and I have never discussed my relationship status, mostly because I avoid discussing anything too personal with them. Even if they didn’t require every moment to be about them, I still wouldn’t talk in-depth about how I feel about women or my private life. Giving them too much information is akin to handing them the knife to torture you.
And they would because they’re assholes like that.
But something about their quick assumption that I don’t have the guts to be married irks me.
I take a long drink and absorb their amusement. Then I do something I never do. I let them get to me.
I sit back, narrowing my gaze. “What makes you think I’ll never get married?”
“Seriously?” Tate asks, on the verge of laughter.
“Yeah, seriously. I’m dying to know why you think I’ll never have a wife.”
“Do you want the list or a quick synopsis?” Tate asks.
I lift a brow.
“For the record,” Renn says, his eyes darting between us. “I’m the Switzerland here. If you two start fighting, I’m taking no sides. Only videos so the family can enjoy watching Tate get pummeled.”
Tate gasps. “I’m hurt.”
“You will be if you fuck with Jason.”
“You have such middle-child energy,” Tate says, glaring at Renn.
I sigh. “Can we get back to the topic at hand? I have shit to do tonight.”
Tate rips his attention from our brother and turns it on me. “If you’re serious and have never realized that you’re not marriage material, let me break it down.”
“Here we go,” Renn mumbles, scooting away from Tate.
“You’re hardheaded as fuck,” Tate says. “You’re used to being in control … of situations, airplanes, and corporations. We don’t help your hero complex because we defer to you, too.” He groans. “Of course, we can’t help it because you generally know how to do everything, and Foxx is the only person Imightcall before you in an emergency.”
I shake my head. “You’re full of shit.”
“Fine. You’re also too busy for a woman, and I’ve never seen you with someone for more than two months—three at best. You’re decent at interpersonal skills but suck at intrapersonal ones.”
“Not true,” I say.
“How do you figure?” Tate asks.
I sweep my hand across the room. “Take this situation as an example of my intrapersonal skills. You two came here because you value interacting with me. I must be decent at it if you want it so bad.”
