Page 48 of The Wrong Brother

“Yeah. You know, that thing you do, like outside Mina’s, where you use your magic lips and touch and breathing to calm me down. Kiss Therapy. Licensing pending. All money goes to me, sorry you didn’t think to trademark your thing.” She manages a little smile and I melt. She’s so goddamn cute.

“Right. Kiss Therapy. Sign me up. I can definitely be your Kiss Therapist.” Once we’re in the moment, I know exactly what she means. I feel it. The mingling of our breath, the soft pressure of our lips, the way stroking her face with my fingertips makes me feel calmer and more connected to her.

“I’ll split the money with you, I guess. 60/40 since you didn’t jump on the opportunity. You deserve to see something for all your skills,” she whispers.

I chuckle. “You ready to tell me what happened?”

“Over dinner? It smells really good.” We go back over to the table. The food is warm enough as is so we eat. “I last texted you from my office. We were playing. I was happy. I felt good. Anticipating coming home. And then Connor came in unexpectedly.” I have to make myself relax my jaw, the reaction to clench it at his name is automatic.

“He wasn’t even on my schedule! I was expecting another client, but he felt like he was important enough to take up my time. I tried to walk him out, explaining that he needed to make appointments like everyone else, but Mattingly happened to be outside and he smoothed things over with the waiting client, rescheduled them without even asking me, and ushered Connor back into my office.”

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“Exactly! He’s no more important than anyone else I work with. He started in, being chatty but not talking about why he came. He commented on my face when he walked in, asking who I was talking to, trying to dig into my personal life. He kept trying to redirect the conversation, wanting to know about my friends, you, and how things were going. It was frustrating and exhausting trying to keep the conversation on track. After a lot of unnecessary back and forth it came out that he brought me some paperwork for the accounts. Paperwork that he could have uploaded to the secure dropbox. In fact, he was told to do that! We have the system in place for a reason. He bumped my other clients and wasted my time bringing me something in person that he was supposed to send digitally.”

“That does sound frustrating.” I’m wondering if that is all that happened, but don’t want to ask. That’s a landmine situation if I ever saw one. I don’t want to tell her how she should be feeling or imply that she’s overreacting, aka The Ultimate Dick Move. From where I’m sitting, Conner is definitely up to something. You don’t get to manage an upscale restaurant in Waikiki and fumble around, unaware of how a digital dropbox works. What is it that has him ignoring the established system and continually trying to monopolize Catherine’s time? It feels off, especially with his engagement celebrations coming up.

“Luckily he got a phone call and had to leave before I lost any more of my day dealing with him. Then I got called into Mattingly’s office. Before I could say anything about Connor’s conduct I was being reminded that the Witherings bring a lot of money to the firm and their account needs to be handled with kid gloves, including moving around other clients if they, or Mr. Jennings by extension, need anything.” Her fists are clenched and her posture is rigid. “I need this account. I need this to go well. I can’t say anything about how unprofessionally he’s treating me and I’ve been told, in no uncertain terms, that I need to cater to his wishes. The whole thing made me angry. And then I come home and you’re standing there with dinner on the table!”

“I’m so sorry, Cat. I’m sorry you have to deal with that asshole. I’m sorry you feel caught between being the professional you want to be and giving in to your boss’ wishes. I guess I’m sorry about dinner too, although I’m not exactly sure why.”

“Dinner is so good—it was such a sweet gesture! That’s what got me. Connor made me feel frustrated. Mattingly made me feel like I can’t do my job the way I want to. Then I come home and there’s a home-cooked meal on the table and music playing and you’re standing there with no shirt on. You’re so sexy and thoughtful and caring and it pushed me over the edge. I bottled all of my feelings up at work and everything came out all at once. This is so nice and I don’t deserve you.” She looks so downcast, it hurts me.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re too good to me. You’re way out of my league. And you’re here spoiling me with food and affection and incredible sex! But there are things I haven’t talked to you about and the lack of transparency makes this feel a little false.”

I freeze. That took an unexpected turn and I no longer know what we’re talking about. The sudden veering of the conversation makes my stomach knot up.

“False? How? What does that mean, exactly?”

She puts her head down for a moment, breathing deeply before lifting it and meeting my eyes. “Tell me the truth, Raff. Do you actually have an apartment?”

Shit.I can’t lie to her. Not Catherine. “No,” I whisper.

“Do you have a place to live at all?” I shake my head, my mouth suddenly too dry to speak. “I don’t know the details. I didn’t talk to anyone else. Your secret is safe with me if that’s what you want. But I knew.”

“Is that why you asked me not to go?” Last night feels very different to me now and it fucking hurts. I shouldn’t have ignored all the reminders of what kind of friends we are. I wanted too much. I stand up shakily, unintentionally knocking my chair backward. All of this was pity? What I perceived as connection was only sympathy and Catherine’s natural inclination to help others. I stumble down the hallway dropping in front of my suitcase. I’ve got to get out of here. I can hear Catherine behind me.

“What are you doing? Why did you run off?”

“I misread things. I’m sorry. You don’t have a duty to host me, I’ll get out of here.”

She grabs my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Rafferty! Stop and look at me!” she yells. Sweet, calm Catherine yells at me. The shock freezes me more than anything. “There was no pity. Nothing was done out of a sense of duty. Knowing is not why I asked you to stay. It’s why I told you to wash your fucking laundry and tucked the suitcase in my room.” Her bottom lip trembles but her eyes are full of fire. “I asked you to stay because I wanted you to. I still want you to.” She drags me towards the bed, pushes me against the edge until I’m sitting, and climbs into my lap, straddling me so we can talk face to face. It’s strange but nice that this has become our way of sitting together.

“It felt false because I wasn’t upfront about what I knew. I sort of maneuvered you into staying with me instead of talking to you about it openly. I know it doesn’t fit our agreement and I don’t want to pressure you but, I want you to stay. As long as you want. As long as you still like being here with me. Like, apartment friends.” She giggles softly and I feel off-balanced again. She wants me to stay, but there’s that reminder of the boundary of friendship again. “I don’t know where you’ve been sleeping or how you’ve made it work, but will you consider sleeping with me? Staying with me?”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve twisted myself around in so many circles I don’t know where we’re at anymore. It’s a big offer and I’m not sure if she understands how big it is. Does she mean for now? Until the party is over? The open ended-ness worries me.

“Love?”Oh, fuck me. She’s never said that out loud. How can I stay rational or tell her no when she’s in my lap and calling me that?

“I didn’t decide one day to be homeless. It happened in stages.”

She’s running her fingers through my hair, scratching lightly on my scalp with each pass. If this conversation wasn’t such a kick in the nuts I’d want to purr like a cat.

“For a while, I rented a house with a few guys, on the windward side. I had a bedroom and we shared everything else. Eventually, several of the guys wanted to leave—moving off island, moving in with a girlfriend—there were various reasons but they needed out. I couldn’t afford to stay in the house without the roommates so I moved out too. Only I couldn’t find a new place. A few suggested roommates fell through, I lost out on a couple of studios since rentals go so fast, and I ended up crashing on a gym acquaintance’s couch while I searched. With what I make from personal training, it was impossible to find a place that I could afford on my own. I’ve never been the guy with a ton of friends either, so I struggled to find roommates. Meanwhile, what I was making stretched a whole lot farther when I wasn’t paying rent and utilities. What started out as a temporary solution ended up being how I live. I sold my furniture, my bike, and my extra belongings. I have a few people who give me a place to sleep one night in exchange for a training session. When I don’t have a place scheduled I crash at Griffin’s or pay a surprise visit to my parents or sit up all night in the laundromat.”

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