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“A very good guy. And you really like him, or you wouldn’t be on the phone with me.”
“He’s never been married.”
“Neither have you.”
“He’s never been engaged,” I counter. “Or…I don’t think he has. Why not? He’s good looking and successful.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes. He said he’s a workaholic.”
“He’s in his thirties, probably a self-made millionaire or at least on his way there, and one of the top defense attorneys in the country. You and I both know what that takes.” Her line beeps. “Hold on.” The line clicks over and a few seconds pass. “I need to go,” she says when she comes back. “I have a female client divorcing her abusive husband. It’s a nightmare for her more than me. I want to talk about the trial. I’ll call you back later tonight.”
She hangs up, and I enter my apartment building to find my second oldest brother, Gabe, at the desk. The security guard says something to him and he turns to find me standing there. And, as usual, he’s looking his blond, preppy man-self, in his weekend jeans paired with his favorite Harvard shirt that has a collar, of course.
“Why are you wearing the dress you wore in court yesterday?” he asks.
“How do you even know I wore this yesterday?”
“You were on camera.”
“I repeat. How do you even know what I was wearing yesterday?”
“You’re my sister.”
“You’ve made my point,” I say.
“That I’m not stupid? Thank you. Your hair is all over the place and so is your makeup. Who is he?”
“Why are you here?”
He reaches for the cups on the security desk. “I came to have coffee with my little sister.”
I accept the cup and give him a curious look. “What are you up to?”
He laughs. “Stop already. I just came to check on you. And—”
“Cat!”
I rotate before he fills in that blank to find a petite and pretty brunette, who is about five feet tall and wearing five-inch heels and a black pantsuit, hurrying my way. And officially, this morning just keeps getting better. Not really. “Who is that?” my brother asks.
“My agent,” I say a few beats before Liz stops in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, and then hold up a hand. “Never mind. I know what you’re doing here. No. End of conversation.”
Her brow furrows. “Why are you wearing—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warn her. “I don’t need to hear that question again.”
“Right,” she says. “Let’s talk upstairs, so you can fix yourself. You’re a mess.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Of course I am. Let’s go.”
I start walking, and my brother and my agent are quick to keep pace while I sip my coffee, which is actually perfect. “Thank you,” I say, glancing at my brother as I punch the elevator button.
“You’re welcome, little sis.”
“This is your brother?” Liz asks, giving him a once-over with a little too much interest. Granted, he’s good looking, but she’s my agent and he’s my brother.
