Page 19 of The Wrong Brother

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? Everyone except him knew he and I should not have been dating! We had one awkward, terrible kiss. It shouldn’t even count as anything. Are you like for-real dating? How long? What’s it been like? What has happened? Tell me everything.”

“Whoa. That’s a lot. Plus, this might not be a conversation for the patio of the gelato place.”

“That juicy?! Yes! Let’s go back to my condo then.”

She gives me all the dirty details on our way back to my condo. How do two people pack that much toe-curling sex into such a short period of time? It’s like one of my romance novels. Now that I think about it, though, it doesn’t surprise me. Their chemistry lately has been enough to give passersby a contact burn by being in their proximity. Lucky jerks.

“How did I not know you’ve been into him all this time?”

“I was embarrassed. And I felt like there was zero chance of him ever reciprocating so I didn’t want to share.”

“But he really, REALLY does reciprocate!” I bump her with my hip, unlocking my door. “I’m kind of jealous that you’re having insanely hot sex and all I have is a fake date to make my asshole ex and cheating whore of a former friend jealous.” She bumps me right back and we collapse onto my couch.

“I want this for you too, Catherine. You deserve someone that pursues you and treats you like a queen.”

“More like an empress!” a voice calls from the doorway.

I react to his voice like an awkward teenager, jerking upright and blushing furiously. “Rafferty! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I knocked but I guess you two missed it. I just used my key, hope that’s ok.” Mina looks back and forth between us, a funny smile on her lips. “We have an arrangement,” Rafferty explains.

“Oh, I know.” Mina grins while his face is unreadable.

“Griffin doesn’t,” he addresses Mina. I understand that she’s talking about the party while he meant the use of my shower. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“Speaking of my sex slave, I’d love to hear more about this but I’d rather see him. Laters you two.”

11

rafferty

I turn to Catherine at the sound of her door closing. “He could be like a litmus test.” She smiles at me from the couch as I walk around to where she’s sitting. Merely being in her presence makes my arms ache to be around her. “I think we need to institute a new rule. Hug Friends need to hug more often.” She stands up, stepping into my open arms. “Much better,” I sigh, embarrassingly, into her hair. “I’m spoiled now. I got a taste of existence with affection in it and I don’t want to go back.”

“Me either. Sorry I was rude and didn’t get up when you came in. I’m still a little sore and we did a lot of walking today.”

I wave her off. “I hope I didn’t cut sister time short.”

“Not at all—we were together for hours.”

We both sit on the couch, much closer than we have in the past. Does that mean something more than the comfort of old friends? Fuck, I wish I could go more than 2 seconds without worrying and wondering and wishing for clarity and security in this situation.

“What did you do?” I ask her, wishing I could touch her more.

“We went to Ala Moana. I bought some things for the engagement parties. I want to feel as confident as possible going into it.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you want to show me or should I wait for the big event?”

“I guess we should discuss, first, if you’re going to do this.” She turns towards me, tucking one leg under the other so she can face me fully. “If you agree, I think it would be best if we decide, together, what this will look like. I always feel more comfortable when I know what is expected of me. I thought about it this week and I still think it is a good idea. Would you be my boyfriend for the engagement party of the two worst people I’ve ever known?” She smiles but it makes my insides lurch thinking about them hurting her.

“I’d like to be your boyfriend.” I leave it at that and she doesn’t catch it or correct me.

“Sweet! The first part of the celebration is a private sailing party. I’m sure we’ll be in suits the whole time. I bought a cover-up that looks a bit like a dress. Knowing them, there will be a lot of drinking but it’s in the morning, on a boat, in the sun, so that’s a big no thank you for me. Later that evening there’s a nicer dinner party. It’s not black tie, thankfully. I’m wearing a dress though. You’d be fine in nice pants and an aloha shirt. We’ll be seen, there will probably be very fancy food, a shit-ton of snobbery, I’m supposed to be introduced to some business people as the Withering’s CPA and then, after a socially acceptable amount of time, we can leave.”

I’ve been watching her lay out the day precisely, like going over a spreadsheet. We’re not touching even though it’s literally all I want to do. It’s very business-like and impersonal. There’s a gaping hole in her plan, though, and I’m not saying that because I’m greedy. Making Catherine feel safe and comfortable in front of the assholes who hurt her is the only thing that matters.

“To clarify: you see that Saturday as being the only necessary interaction as a couple?”

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