Page 33 of The Wrong Brother

“It’s probably best I didn’t know about this earlier or I would have gotten in a lot of trouble for beating asses.” Mina stares off for a minute before shaking her head decisively, dark bob swinging. “No. I get it. Catherine has always had this idea that she has to show a perfect public front, keeping anything real and flawed locked up tight. She gives herself anxiety, not being able to meet up to those unrealistic expectations and she carries burdens alone because she thinks sharing weakness is the same as failing. She’s dead wrong.” She glares and I can see why people find her so intimidating. “It makes me fucking furious that she feels like she has to keep things from me. But that doesn’t change what I was saying. In fact, it supports my point.” Mina hops up on the countertop, pulling her legs up to sit. “Catherine has never been seduced, never been swept off her feet, never really even been adequately pursued. She deserves that! Especially from someone that’s not going to be fucking around behind her back. Andyou,my friend, deserve to be with someone who sees all your glorious depth and layers!”

“So what exactly are you proposing?” I try to keep it shoved down deep, but a little bubble of hope rises anyway.

“Woo her! Your friendship is established. You have history. I know for a fact that she likes you and is attracted to you.” I can feel my eyes widen. I hoped I was reading things right, hoped what she said when we were all together wasn’t just for show, but I didn’t expect to have it confirmed so plainly. I won’t deny how much my ego needed that. “Catherine is a rule follower through and through. She won’t try to take things outside of what you guys agreed on. She’ll be worried about messing up what you have and disrespecting what you established.”

“Aren’t those worries valid though? ShouldIbe pushing things if she won’t?”

Mina makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “Raff! She’s into you. You hold all the cards. Seduce her! Make her feel pretty and desired! Show her you want more! I don’t even have to lay it all out or dictate a schedule because you’re the best at reading people. Use those skills andall your other skills,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively, “and woo the shit out of my big sister!”

I can’t deny that Mina’s plan sounds a million times more enjoyable than my take-whatever-meager-affection-she-offers-then-go-back-to-being-friends plan.

“I’ll need to think about it. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship or somehow make the engagement party harder for her. It needs to go off without a hitch. I’m not going to let those two hurt her again.”

“Very noble, but trust me, Raff, seduce her.”

Griffin saves me from having to respond by walking in with breakfast. I may not have to talk about it anymore, but I don’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. I think I have some plans to make.

19

catherine

It’s Friday evening and Rafferty texted saying he had something to bring by. I know it’s silly—absolutely ridiculous—but I change my clothes in anticipation of his arrival. Twice. I almost put on more makeup too but talk myself out of it. He knocks instead of letting himself in and I open the door to a small bouquet of delicate white tuberose. I know I’m grinning like a fool but I’ve never been given flowers before! His hug makes me feel small and safe, which isn’t a familiar feeling for a woman who is 5’9”. Kissing his cheek doesn’t feel like enough for all the feelings rising and bursting like fragile bubbles inside of me so I turn his face toward me and kiss him in earnest. I know I?ve crossed a line here. This isn?t practice or for show—I simply wanted to kiss him. And I don?t regret it. There’s something heavy and real about standing in my doorway, the scent of tuberose strong in the air, Rafferty’s arms around me and his lips pressed to mine. Is it possible to feel completely lost and at home at the same time?

Reluctantly, I end the kiss and step back to let him come in and see there are bags at his feet.

“What’s all this?”

He shoos me away when I try to grab them. “You take the flowers, I’ve got this.” I can feel him at my back, a welcome presence in my normally solitary space. He deposits the bags on the table, pulling out food containers and a bottle of rosé. I’m standing there, taking it all in, dazed in a sort of crush-induced stupor. Rafferty’s eyes meet mine and one corner of his lips curves upward. He comes around the table, stepping close and booping me on the nose. The unexpectedness of the gesture makes me giggle. “Do you want to take care of the flowers or get the dishes?”

I look down at the pretty bouquet I’m still holding and over at the table with dinner waiting to be shared. Then there’s Rafferty, leaning with his hip against my countertop, watching me with a bemused expression. I want to lean into him, hips and stomachs and chests touching with pinpoints of heat. I want to stand here and let him hold me until dinner is cold. I want to kiss him, fully—not to try it out, not as a hello or a thank you or because someone’s watching, but well and truly kiss him. Instead, I find a tall mason jar and take care of the beautiful tuberoses while he sets the table.

The makeshift vase full of tall, delicate white blooms looks so pretty on the table. Rafferty dishes up penne in creamy pesto sauce from Auntie Pasto’s and the smell makes my stomach growl. Garlic and basil mingle with the light floral scent. I congratulate myself on agreeing to split that wine glass set with Mina even though, at the time, I scoffed that I didn’t need two glasses for white and two for red. I dig around the drawer for a corkscrew and soft music starts playing in the background.

“I don’t recognize this.” I stop to listen. The sound is sparse—piano and his light but raw voice are the only things filling the space. “Wow. I like it though.”

Rafferty’s responding smile makes me feel like the glass of rosé I’m pouring, pink and bubbly. “I brought it with me. It’s Rhys Lewis.”

The singer is singing about making tomorrow better, but I don’t know how it could beat today. Rafferty makes even the smallest thing special. He pays attention to the details and makes everything he touches beautiful. I thought I’d spend my Friday night in pj’s with my sad solo dinner finished embarrassingly early like an octogenarian. Yet here I am with the perfect date ambiance of good music, flowers decorating the table, and great company. The pasta is delicious and we linger over dinner and wine, the meal itself leading to discussions of travel dreams.

“Can you imagine eating local food in a little Italian village after spending the day walking and exploring?”

“I bet, as good as Auntie Pasto’s is, there would be no comparison to authentic Italian cuisine. Is that what would motivate your dream trip,” he teases, “the food?”

“Food is extremely important. It absolutely factors in, right up at the top. I want to try everything!”

“That would make a compelling series:Catherine Brookner Eats Her Way Through Europe.”

I snort in a very unladylike manner. “Ok, sir. You know you’d be right there with me, eating all the things. Where would you go?”

“Split, Croatia,” he answers without hesitation. “I’ve seen photos. The mix of modern and all the old architecture, cobbled streets, a roman palace, and a huge stone fortress, all on the shore of the Adriatic Sea.” His expression is wistful, the glass he had been bringing to his mouth forgotten. “I’d love to paint there.”

“Well, I’ll check into the food situation. If I can’t eat an obscene amount of delicious local delicacies, you’ll have to drop me off somewhere along the way.” He merely shakes his head at me with an affectionate smile. I stop him with a hand on his wrist when he tries to gather up our empty plates. “Nope. You took care of dinner, I’m cleaning up.” He stretches out, watching as I clear the table. “Would you mind pouring some more wine, though? These dishes will only take me a minute, then we can move to the living room.” He obliges me while I fill one side of the sink with a little hot water. My hands are soapy and my hair keeps swinging forward, bugging the shit out of me. “I hate to make you get up, but could you grab the hair tie from my purse?” I can hear him moving around but I’m concentrating on washing our large, shallow bowls with my head awkwardly tilted slightly back and to one side. He comes back into the kitchen but he’s holding a slightly crumpled sheet of folded paper instead of my hair tie.

“Catherine,” the tone of his voice makes me flush like I was scolded by a teacher. “What the fuck is this?” I finish rinsing the last dish and drain the sink, stalling. I don’t even have to look at the paper to know what it is. I forgot I had shoved it in there before we went over to Mina’s. His face is like stone, jaw clenched tight, and I feel inexplicably guilty even though I didn’t do anything wrong.

“You weren’t supposed to see that. No one is. It’s just a letter. I get them sometimes. Well, pretty regularly. Usually, I’d file it away, but we were in a rush last night…” my voice trails off as I take in his rigid posture. “Are you mad at me?”

He rushes forward and wraps his arms around me. “Why on earth would I be mad at you?” He holds me for a minute before pulling back, looking at me closely in that Rafferty way and holding the letter between us. “Seriously though, whatTHE ACTUAL FUCKis this? I don’t understand what I read or anything you just said. Youusuallyfile it away? Where? Why? Help me understand.”

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