Page 21 of The Wrong Brother

“I was going to make something. I hate cooking for one. Will you eat with me?”

“Sure. Thanks!” I’d never say no to anything that means spending more time with her. She heads into the kitchen and I turn toward the bathroom, making sure I lock the door this time.

I come out, clean and relaxed, to delicious smells and a set table. Catherine made broiled salmon with sautéed green beans. It’s delicious and much better than what I have been eating recently. I often worry about overstaying my welcome and once I’ve washed the dinner dishes I feel pressure to go. Catherine insists I can stay longer but the last thing I want is for her to get sick of me this early on.

She’s standing in her doorway, leaning against the frame, as I grab my backpack. She’s casual and natural and achingly beautiful. It makes me think of the advice the group I train on Saturday mornings gave me, during one of their regular meddling sessions. It gives me the small bolster of confidence I need. The thought of finally being able to kiss her has been a constant chorus in the back of my mind all evening. It’s not the point of this arrangement. It can likely wait. But I can’t. Not anymore. She’s so close and I can touch her with the absolute certainty that she won’t pull away. It may only be because of our plan, but it’s something. It’s more than I’ve ever been able to hope for. I want this so much, I refuse to let the truth of it—that she doesn’t want me, only a convincing fake boyfriend for a few weeks—steal anything from this moment.

“I had a thought,” I tell her. She lifts her chin up, head tilting, looking at me expectantly. I reach out, tracing my fingers along her cheek and her eyes flutter closed at my touch. Her skin is like silk, cool and exquisite. I slide my fingers up her jaw, cupping her face with my hands, and bring my lips down to hers. Her lips are impossibly soft and the touch is electric. Years of yearning, dreaming, hoping and my imagination still had nothing on the real thing.

Kissing Catherine is the morning sunrise, full of new beauty and hope. It’s catching the perfect wave. It’s setting brush to canvas and capturing exactly what you intended. It’severything. I have to tamp down on a dozen years of pent-up passion, keeping the kiss slow and gentle. I pull away, reluctantly, looking into her dazed eyes.

“I think we’ll be just fine,” I smile.

I give her one last, small kiss, relishing the way that bottom lip fits between mine, and walk away, dancing inside.

12

catherine

I am in trouble. Big, big trouble. I thought through all the angles; I laid everything out carefully; I even placed not having to hide my attraction in the pro column. Rafferty’s point about us needing to be convincing as a real couple made perfect sense. Easy, right? I did not plan for the simplest, smallest kiss to set my whole body on fire. My brain is fuzzy and my lips are tingling and I’m somewhere between a freakout and a giggle attack. So, basically, very uncool.

Me:SOS

Me:Can you talk or are you naked with Griffin?

Mina:All alone—he ran out to grab dinner

They’ve fallen into this relationship quickly but it’s so clearly the real thing. It makes me very happy to see my sister appreciated for exactly who she is. She deserves that. I quickly initiate a video chat with her. Mina always rolls her eyes about it, preferring to text, but I like to see her face when we’re talking. Added bonus: I can’t get distracted, doing something else at the same time. If we’re on camera I have to stay present. She answers, looking a little disheveled but decent.

“Thank you for not being naked.”

“Anytime! I pulled on this shirt just for you!”

“I appreciate it. I’m sure your boobs are glorious but entirely unnecessary for this conversation.”

“Title of my biography:Glorious but Entirely Unnecessary,” she grins. “What’s up?”

I take a deep breath, still undecided about which direction of crazy I’m headed, but ruin all careful consideration by awkwardly blurting it out. “Rafferty kissed me.”

“WHAT?!” Mina screams, bouncing up.

“Meens, NO! I think I might have gotten a muff flash. Sit still!”

“Yikes. Sorry.” She sits up straight, holding her phone higher. “How did this happen?”

“Well, you jumped,” I joke.

“Fuck off. Don’t tease me now, THE KISS!”

“We were working out the details of the arrangement and he pointed out that rolling up to the party, pretending to be a couple for the first time, wouldn’t fool Pressley. We decided we need to practice for the next few weeks to make sure it’s convincing. I guess it was step one but I wasn’t expecting it, it caught me off-guard.”

“Oh, so you think he kissed you because you agreed it was necessary for the arrangement?”

“Right. We had been talking about it earlier. We both agreed. It was all decided.”

“Suuuure.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “And the kiss?”

“Well…” I know I’m blushing and my emotions are still all over the place. Am I giddy? Am I scared? Is there a word that covers both of those emotions? It feels like stepping into the unknown, moving forward without already having all of the steps planned out and the destination set, and that terrifies me.

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