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“I know.” The concern in his tone makes me smile, because even when he’s irritated with me, he can’t help but worry for me too. “I know that. But I couldn’t help it. I mean, he was right there, and suddenly I had the chance to live out all my daydreams as a teenager, even if they weren’t real. Maybe I thought I would get some closure out of it, I don’t know. Plus, it’s Ian. He needed my help too. There was no way I was going to say no.”
“So when did things change?”
“I don’t know if I can pinpoint the exact moment, not for him, anyway—” I cock my head, realizing something. “Have you said anything to Ian?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Fucker told me he wasn’t telling me anything until I talked to you first.” I can’t help but grin, and Jack rolls his eyes. “Fuck off. I can’t deal with the cutesy shit right now.”
“Are you really mad?”
“I’m not…mad. Not about the two of you, at least. I mean, it’s weird as hell, and it feels like my brother has been running around with my sister doing”—he shudders—“shit I don’t ever want to know about, but I am a little hurt that neither of you thought you could tell me.”
“Don’t blame Ian,” I say immediately. “He left it up to me to tell you.”
“Of course he did,” Jack grumbles. “Noble bastard.”
“He would never intentionally do anything to hurt you,” I assure him. “He loves you, Jack.”
“Not as much as he loves you, apparently,” Jack mutters petulantly.
The implication of that sentence makes my chest swell, but I brush it off for the moment.
“Wow, did I steal your boyfriend?”
“Actually, I changed my mind. I’m totally mad. I forbid you from dating.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You really think you can forbid me from doing anything?”
“No,” he sighs. “But it felt good to say.”
“I’m really sorry that we didn’t tell you sooner,” I say, meaning it.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I guess. Maybe.” He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing at me. “Is this…Is this like a real thing? Or some kind of fling?”
“It’s real,” I answer with full confidence. “I…I love him, Jack.”
His brows shoot up. “Does he know that?”
“I haven’t explicitly told him…but I plan to. Soon.”
“This is so weird,” he mutters.
“But he’s better than Etienne, right?”
“The rat from Ratatouille would be better than Etienne,” he huffs. “Like, straight up, hiding under your chef hat better.”
I bark out a laugh. “Of all the French references that you could have used, that’s what you come up with?”
“I have a condition,” he says primly. “Don’t make fun of my broken brain.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not broken. It’s wonderful.”
“Don’t try to butter me up.”
I lean in close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, too, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I love you, too, Dee.” He wraps his good arm around me, squeezing my shoulders, making a disgruntled sound that puffs against my hair. “I’m going to need at least six months before I’m subjected to the two of you kissing in front of me.”
“Two weeks,” I counter.
