Page 6 of The Wrong Brother

“I thought I couldn’t be any more embarrassed than I was half an hour ago!” She peeks between her fingers, a small smile on her face. “I mean, shit Rafferty! Maybe you should extend a little grace to those women who can’t see past your exterior. I’m having a hard time remembering how kind and wise you are after seeing all of that and I’ve known you most of my life.” She groans and tips sideways, burying her face into the couch cushions.

I bump her with my elbow, trying to keep things light, focusing on how embarrassed she feels instead of how much I want to soak up and examine every word she says. “You don’t have to poke fun, Catherine. Forced ego-stroking won’t make me forget what happened. We can still revisit the hypnotherapy idea. I’ll go halfsies, in deference to your emotional trauma.”

She pops up, shielding her face forgotten. “What? I’m not fake and I’m not a liar, Rafferty Simms. Maybe I don’t have a ton of experience, but I haveneverseen a man that looks like you! It’s honestly not fair. I was simply trying to be a good hostess and now I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to be attracted to anyone else! Who on earth could compete with that?” Her blue eyes widen, eyebrows stretching up as high as they possibly can, then she pulls the throw pillow over her face, curling up into a ball, letting out an uncharacteristic growl of frustration. Don’t think I didn’t notice she saidattracted to anyone else. That will be revisited far more times than is healthy, I’m sure of it.

“Fuck, Queen Catherine! Two incredible compliments in one day? I’m going to have to keep you around so I always feel great about myself. Although that could make me insufferable…I say we give it a shot, anyway. If I get too bad you can start hurling insults every time you see me to balance things out. Pull a page out of Griffin’s book and tell me my hair in a bun makes me look like a pretentious twat.”

She peeks out from the pillow, sitting up fully and facing me. “Thank you for not making fun of me.”

“Never. Plus, I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings after I ruined you for all other men.”

“You suck!” She throws the pillow at me but now she’s smiling again, at least until she pauses, tilting her head to one side and eyeing me frankly. “What is the deal with dating, truly? Are they all that bad?”

I groan. “They allend upbeing bad, but not always in the same way. Every time, though, the root of the problem is that they don’t see me for who I am, and once they do, they realize I’m not what they wanted.”

“How? Give me examples because I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this.”

“Well, there was the one who broke up with me right before we met at the beach. She said she assumed I was going to be fun and she didn’t want to deal with all my feelings all the time.” I shrug. “Or there was the one who invited me to her place for a drink and, based on how I look, expected me to be some alpha asshole who would get rough with her. I got upset that she misjudged me so much and she got pissed that I was ‘nothing but a fucking beta,’” I do air quotes, “and kicked me out. They’re all some variation on that. Making assumptions, getting past the surface, then dumping me. The end.” She’s chewing on her lip, not saying anything. “What about you? Is there someone in your life?”pleasenopleasenopleaseno

She scoffs and leans back against the cushions. “No fucking way. I’m done with dating for a while.” She doesn’t seem inclined to continue but I don’t want to let it go.

“Why? Did something happen? Or are you on one of those personal journey things?”

She twists her mouth to one side, breathing out in a huff. “The same thing always happens.” She’s looking down at her fingers, twisting and untwisting them before looking at me with a forced smile. “Did you know that I have never been in a relationship and not been cheated on?”

“What the fuck? Seriously?” That makes my blood boil.

She nods. “Every. Single. Time. From high school through adulthood. But do you know what’s worse?” She leans forward conspiratorially.

“Worse than being cheated on?”

“They’re all still together. Apparently being with me is a surefire way to findthe one. It’s just not me.” She lets out a half-assed laugh, then sighs. “It started to feel like that’s all I was ever going to be—some kind of dating seat warmer, keeping a guy company until he finds who he really wants. And that’s completely ignoring the hurt of being cheated on. I don’t like feeling like maybe I don’t deserve more. I want something real, but I’m not sure that even exists, so I can’t do it anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Catherine. That sucks.” I don’t know what else to say and I hate that there’s nothing I can do to make her feel better. There is still something that hasn’t been addressed, though. “So, if you’re done with dating, what exactly is going on with my brother?”

She grimaces, twisting her fingers together the way she does when she’s nervous. “I don’t really know. He hasn’t been clear and I don’t want to read into it. Right now it feels like we’re just reconnecting as old friends, ya?”

“But if he is wanting it to be more?” My jaw is aching from the tension I’m holding there with the thought of the two of them together. She sighs and tips her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“I feel like I don’t have a choice. There are so many expectations and I don’t want to disappoint anyone—” her voice trails off. “I prefer not to think about it unless I’m given a reason to do so.”

“I understand.” I can’t give her comfort or answers but at the very least, I can change the subject. “What were you reading?” Her eyes dart to her book and she bites at her lip, her expression guarded. “Shit, I thought I was steering us towards safer territory. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Again.”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I don’t like being laughed at. I mean, who does? But I get tired of it when it comes to this. In fact, I usually read on my e-reader so no one can see what I’m reading.” She frowns.

“I hope you know by now that I’d never genuinely make fun of you. Not in that way. It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I’d kind of like to, if you would. You like to read too, ya?” She’s looking at me so earnestly, blue eyes wide. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“I do. I like books that make me laugh, regardless of the genre. And I don’t mind harder subject matter if something uplifting can be found in it. I don’t want to read anything that will make me depressed. There’s too much sadness in real life without seeking it out for entertainment. Sometimes I enjoy a good thriller but I have to be in the mood otherwise the tension can bother me, making me anxious. When it comes down to it, I like stories, the end.”

“You sound like me. I love cozy mysteries, but that’s no secret. I like the crazy supporting characters and the interesting locales with a regular person figuring things out. I also enjoy the intrigue and mystery without it getting super dark. I don’t want to read about women getting brutally raped or children being murdered. That’s not fun.”

“I hear that,” I agree. “That’s not what you were feeling protective over, though, was it?”

“No.” She pauses for so long, I think she’s changed her mind about telling me. “I also like to read romance.”

“Ok, what kind?” She looks at me in surprise but doesn’t answer. I elaborate. “Like, do you prefer contemporary? Or historical? Do you like rom-coms? I’d be shocked if you were into the more angsty stories or dark romance considering how you feel about darker mysteries.”

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