Page 60 of The Wrong Brother

My stomach clenches and my palms feel clammy. Catherine knows I’m homeless, but I didn’t tell her the whole story. It was one night in jail, I paid the hefty fine and never slept in my car again. I didn’t want her to know how much I don’t deserve her. I didn’t want anyone to know. And now it’s been yelled out in front of a house full of well-to-do people I’ve never met. Catherine lets go of my hand, breaking our connection like I deserve. Connor steps forward, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me like a physical weight pressing in from all sides. My heart is racing, my lungs are constricting, and it feels like my temperature is skyrocketing.Fuck, not now, not like this.I turn and stride out of the room.

38

catherine

Pressley hasn’t just crossed a line. She drunkenly barreled past it and everyone is watching like it’s a slow motion replay of a car accident. Poor Connor is humiliated and there’s no way Bob and Helen missed this. I feel for them, I truly do, but they’re not my concern. I hear quick footsteps and catch sight of Rafferty moving down the hallway behind us. That is the last fucking straw. She should not have messed with him. Pressley’s face is flushed a bright pink, her eyes are glassy, and she’s staring me down with an unattractive sneer pulling at her lips. I step closer to her, careful not to raise my voice. She has already made enough of a scene.

“Don’t you dare say one more word about Rafferty. Do you hear me, Pressley? I can take your fucked-up spiteful letters every day of the week, but you don’t get to bring your toxicity anywhere near him. I can’t even begin to understand how you think where you’re at is somehow my fault or what happened to make you end up so hateful and mean. You have the looks, the money, the family, the guy, what more do you want? You’ve already won at your own awful game.”

“I did win! I always win,CAT! I stole Connor from you and now you don’t have your fake little boy toy either! It doesn’t matter that my parents like you more and cut me off for the year after our little…disagreement. I. WIN.”

And just like that, I see Pressley in stark, honest clarity, right down to her core. All she is, when it comes down to it, is a sad, self-conscious woman who has spent so many years playing the comparison game she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her. I pity her.

“All of that is wrong. Every single bit of it. You don’t seem to see yourself clearly even though you read people better than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s a skill I only wish I had. You’re strong and beautiful with a commanding presence. You had to work your senior year? So what? That’s life. You have a family that loves and supports you and a fiancé that adores you, even if I can’t figure out why. If you’d get out of your own way you’d see everything you already have. You don’t have to bring anyone down to get there. I’m sorry that you’re hurting and angry and desperate to make others feel as badly as you do. If you don’t want to lose it all, you should find someone to help you work through this shit and maybe lay off the alcohol before you lose the man who is still standing right next to you, supporting you even though you’re acting like an embarrassing bitch.” I take a deep, steadying breath. It seems like everyone at the party is now listening to us. I have more important things, and more important people, to give my attention to. Pressley and her bullshit aren’t worth another second of my time.

“Nothing you could ever say would ruin things between me and Rafferty. Nothing you said about him even matters! He’s not homeless, we live together. And he’s certainly not the first, nor will he be the last local who has struggled and done whatever he could to keep living here on this beautiful island we get to call home. I don’t care about that. He’s my best friend. The absolute best man. Rafferty is genuine and loyal and has more depth and sensitivity than anyone I’ve ever known. He’s the kindest and most thoughtful person and I love him. I wish the best for you, Pressley, I truly do, but if you try to reduce the love of my life to something trivial about his looks or refer to him as myboy toyagain, I will end you. I know all your dirty little secrets and hurting Rafferty is the absolute line for me. Grow the fuck up and get some help!”

I spin around, imagining my triumphant exit, only to slam into a hard wall of muscle. Rafferty was standing directly behind me. He weaves his fingers through mine and leads us quietly through the crowd. I nod at Bob and Helen, mildly embarrassed by my outburst, even though I stand behind what I said. I keep expecting Rafferty to stop us, to talk to me about what went down back there, but he takes us out of the house, down the driveway, to the valet, then we get in his car and he starts driving. He keeps his hand in mine but he never says a word. The longer the silence goes on the more nervous I get.

What isn’t he saying?

Why does it need to wait until we get back home?

Are we going home?

Does he even consider it home?

He does park next to my car and takes my hand again as we go upstairs. My stomach is churning and I’m afraid I’m going to need to stuff towels in my armpits if this goes on for much longer. The stress sweat is real. We step inside and Rafferty reaches behind me to close the door, caging me inside his arms. He looks at me deeply with that singular Rafferty stare, and one side of his mouth lifts ever so slightly.

“What’s wrong, Kitty Cat? I thought you liked waiting?” The air whooshes out of my lungs and his smile grows. If I could breathe I’d yell at him. Or kiss him. Probably both. I suck in a shaky breath.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” I clutch at my stomach, willing the adrenaline spike to subside. “You are the worst!”

“Uh huh. Sure I am. You love me.”

“Of course I do!”

“I love you,” he declares.

“I know.”

The cocky expression slips from his face. “Youknow? What? How? I never said anything!”

“Rafferty Simms, do you honestly think saying the words is more important than the actions? Maybe you never said it but you’ve been showing me you love me every day. Probably for much longer than I noticed, I’m embarrassed to admit. I didn’t make a big deal out of it because I thought maybe you needed more time to feel comfortable or that the act of saying it wasn’t as important to you.”

“Can we go back to the part where you said you love me? That was probably the best moment of my life and we skipped past it too quickly.”

“I wish I had known you were there. How meaningful could it be when I was yelling it at Pressley?”

“You could always try it again. See if it’s any different with the right audience.” His words are joking but I know his expressions and the emotions behind them. My big, sweet softie needs reassurance.

“We could text around and see if anyone from the party got it on video.”Tough luck, meanie.

His mouth drops open and he grabs me, slinging me over his shoulder, his fingers pinching at the super ticklish spot underneath the curve of my ass. I’m shrieking and very lucky he’s so strong, otherwise, my manic flailing would have resulted in me breaking my neck. He dumps me on the bed, still laughing, and stretches out, covering my body with his.

“I love you, Rafferty.” I still, holding him tightly. He rolls us so I’m on top of him, looking at me with such affection I feel like I could take flight. I reach out and trace my fingers over that tattoo on the inside of his bicep, the one he was so coy about. “Did you know I looked this up?” His eyes widen and I smile, hoping it soothes some of his nerves. “This tarot card design: it’s The Empress.” He swallows noisily. “You have The Empress,” I take his arm and fold it between us, “where it can rest over your heart.” I can see the speed of his pulse in his throat and the concern in his eyes, as if I could be upset at how deeply sentimental he is. I rest my hands on his cheeks, pouring every bit of tenderness I feel into a kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner. But I see you now, my love. I know this is more than I asked you for. This was only supposed to be a few weeks of you pretending to be my boyfriend. Could we amend the plan?”

“What are your terms, Catherine? You should keep in mind that I’ve loved you for the majority of my life. Fake boyfriend was honestly never my end goal, but I was willing to do it if it was what you needed. I’d do anything to give you what you need.”

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