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We have eight chairs around the boardroom table. Through implicit agreement, no one takes the head because we’reequals.
Tris and I take the far side. I don’t worry about the appearance of us brothers having each others’ backs because it doesn’t play out that way in this room. Here, anything is fairgame.
Tris leans over, lowering his voice. “She friend-zoned you yearsago.”
Irritation rises. “She didn’t friend-zone me. We agreed to be friends.Mutually."
“So you always knew she was hot, but it never occurred to you to act onit?”
I think about her at the Met. She gets her share of admiring looks from strangers, but they don’t see what I see—that she’s not just another attractive woman in New York. She’s a thousand times more rare and special thanthat.
“What we have is more than physical. It doesn’t—didn’t,” I correct, “translate.”
But for a moment, standing on those steps, I gave myself permission to see her not as my best friend, but as a woman. I let my gaze linger on the curve of her breasts, the way her dress tugged enticingly over her hips, the fullness of her mouth, the dark lashes fringing eyes I love in every variation of amused and calling me on mybullshit.
"Even if I’d wanted to date her back then, it would’ve been fuckedup.”
“Why?”
This is not something I’d planned to talk about with Tris, but arguing isn’t worth the effort. “I slept with hersister.”
Tris’s eyes round. “The one who’s living with hernow?”
“No. Her twin who left during college and never cameback.”
Normally I’d be self-impressed for accomplishing something that takes my brother aback, but under the circumstances, the emotions I’m feeling are decidedlydifferent.
“Fuck. You didn’t love her.” It’s a question, not astatement.
I shake my head. “Sleeping with Vi was a mistake. I was young andstupid.”
And I’ve regretted it eversince.
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe I met Daisysecond.
Vi was the crazy one, the life of the party. You couldn’t stand in a room for five minutes and not notice her. They were both beautiful, with dark hair and eyes and full mouths, but it took me far too long to learn the second twin was more fascinating than thefirst.
Vi wanted your praise, while Daisy wanted youropinion.
Vi wanted you to watch her. Daisy wanted to watchyou.
Before I learned their personalities were different, I could tell them apart by their clothes. Vi wore the shortest skirts I’d ever seen, heels designed to make long legs look even longer, and enough makeup the bouncers rarely asked forID.
Daisy’s look was simpler. All she’d wear on her face was something dark around her eyes and the lip balm she took everywhere. She dressed more conservatively in tank tops, sweaters, and skinny jeans. I don’t think she realized how little they did to hide hercurves.
Vi would hold court on the dance floor, trying to draw every male gaze in the room and largely succeeding. Daisy would hang out by the bar, preferably on a stool where she could survey theroom.
I don’t regret many things. Not figuring out sooner that Daisy was the one who’d ultimately fit me is one ofthem.
“Well,” Tris goes on, “if you’ve finally wised up and decided to lock that down, you’re smarter than I thought. I expect to see this new relationship in action onWednesday.”
I force myself to focus on Tris’s words. “Wednesday?”
“We’re going out for my birthday. We have a booth alreadyreserved.”
Nothing good ever started in a nightclub. “I can’t make it. But I’ll send my regards in alcoholicform.”
“You’re my brother.” The edge in his voice has me wondering why he evencares.
