Page 7 of The Wrong Brother

“You know about different sub-genres of romance?”

“Sure. I read some.”

“You do?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“Is that shocking?”

“YES!” Catherine practically screeches at me, sitting more upright. “Anyone who has ever found out that I like it has made fun of me or thrown barbs about how they prefer ‘real books.’ I’ve never met any guy that reads romance.”

“First: people suck. Reading is reading. And I do enjoy some romance. Not all, but some.”

“What do you like? What don’t you like?” She scoots closer to me, her excitement palpable.

“You never answeredmyquestion.” It truly doesn’t matter. But it’s nice to see her this animated and I want to keep talking.

“Ok, sure. I like rom-coms, I don’t mind thrillers but you were right, I don’t like them too angsty. I can never get too into historical romances because I get bogged down, in my head, thinking about how she may be having hot sex with a duke but, in the end, she’s still basically property and isn’t allowed any agency on her own. Now you.”

“Our lists are pretty much the same. I don’t, in general, enjoy the billionaire trope. There have been exceptions, but it feels lazy. How hard can it be to find your happily ever after when you’re apparently the hottest guy in wherever you happen to live and you can fix any problem because you have more money than you could ever spend?It’s so hard to find someone that likes me for me and not all the sizeable things I bring to the table. Our love will literally have no obstacles because my money makes all problems disappear. Oh, boohoo, my plane is in the shop so we have to have a boring domestic date instead of jetting to Paris for a weekend getaway…” Catherine giggles again. I love that sound. I want to make her laugh all the time.

“Anything you avoid?”

“If it feels juvenile, it goes in the Do Not Finish pile. I don’t tend to enjoy ‘Enemies to Lovers’ when there’s no clear reason for the friction and they suddenly, magically find themselves attracted and able to ignore the differences that were apparently such a big deal one chapter ago. That annoys me. I guess that’s not the trope though as much as it is shitty writing of the trope. Hard pass on things that feel more like abusive relationships.”

“Oh, me too. I know they’re some people’s jam but it’s not my taste at all. How long have you been reading romance?”

“A few years maybe? An ex forgot one when she left me and I needed a distraction. Now, to be frank, sometimes I’m looking for a good, steamy story. I haven’t been with anyone in a long…long time.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this but it’s too late to stop now. “I don’t have any interest in seeing two strangers going at it. Porn always feels so forced and contrived. Who wants to watch what often amounts to middle school theater-level acting but with fucking? I’d rather use my imagination—butreadingabout two people falling in love? I’m all about that. What about you?”

The soft pink blush is back, her golden freckles standing out in contrast across her cheekbones, making me itch for something more ethereal than my usual medium, like watercolors. Catherine in watercolor would be magic. “Same, I guess. I mean, I started reading them in high school. It was nice to have something light that was guaranteed to end well—a pleasant escape. I haven’t seriously dated since college. A few sporadic dates here and there, but no relationships so…book boyfriends it is. I’d rather use my imagination as well.”

I can’t help myself, I want to tease her again and gauge her reactions. After all that talk about Griffin, I’m desperate to know the things she’s thinking and can’t keep off of her expressive face.

“Hmmm, when it comes to using your imagination, what are the odds that I might end up as a stand-in for a book boyfriend, now that you’ve seen me naked?”

I get a glimpse of that small shy smile accompanied by a widening of her eyes, her lips just parting to respond, then Mina lets herself back into the condo.

6

catherine

I did not need Rafferty making cracks about me fantasizing over his naked body and giving me that naughty grin right as Mina walked back into my condo. Now I feel awkward and embarrassed. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice. Gah. Of course, she’s going to notice. Unless I have a firm grip on my aloof professional persona, everything I feel is always advertised across my face. Rafferty is looking rather smug until he sees Mina’s face and he’s up on his feet, picking her up off of the ground in a big hug.

He brings her over to the couch, depositing her next to me before going into my kitchen to get us coffee. Her grey-green eyes show exhaustion and emotions that, if I know my sister, are about to be shoved away to be dealt with later. I pull her head down into my lap, stroking her straight, dark hair with one hand and clasping her hand in my other. I like that I’m the only person Mina would allow to treat her this way. It’s nice to be needed.

I run my fingers through her hair while she tells us about the difficult call she was on. Mina is a social worker with Child Welfare Services and she sees a lot of terrible things, things I could never handle. She finishes her story about the little girl with broken bones, and clenches her jaw, refusing to cry. She never breaks down in front of others while I’m emotional enough for both of us.

I wish I was as strong as she is. The thought of a precious little girl being treated that way hurts me. A tear rolls down my cheek, dripping down onto Mina. I run my fingers across the moisture, drying her off, and Rafferty reaches his long arm across and gently wipes the tear track from my cheek. My skin tingles with the contact. I’ve avoided touching him since I walked in on him earlier. That’s an extra layer my overactive imagination does not need right now.

Mina sits up, squeezes the hand that’s holding hers, takes a long drink of coffee, and goes into the bathroom. I sit, my arms hugging around my middle, trying not to imagine the kinds of situations Mina deals with every day. More tears are streaking down my cheeks and I’m embarrassed that I’m reacting this way about something I’m so far removed from. I unwrap my hold to swipe at my tears and am swept up into Rafferty’s strong arms. I automatically hug him back, even though I shouldn’t, burying my face into his neck, trying to ignore how dumb I’m being. He smells like my soap, but somehow masculine too. I like it.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter into his warm skin. “I’m being ridiculous.”

He runs his fingers through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. God, this is helping me feel better but also not helping with my constant awareness of him.

“Don’t apologize for being tender-hearted, Catherine. It’s one of the best things about you.” Now Rafferty is lightly stroking my back and I find myself snuggling against him, sighing. I’m not going to beat myself up over it. I can admit I’m touched starved. That’s all. Acknowledging that doesn’t mean I have to push Rafferty for more. “This is nice,” he whispers. “We should be hugging friends. Mina isn’t particularly cuddly and she’s the only person I hang out with besides Griffin. I’m feeling starved for affection.”

“You do give good hugs, Rafferty. I’ve missed friendly affection too.”

“Good, that’s settled then. Hug Friends.”

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