“He asked me to move in with him.”
Ben is in the shower, so I choose now to make my confession to my sister. Rachel’s head twists in my direction so quickly I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her jaw drops. “He what?”
My eyes focus on my feet as my chest tightens. I can’t meet her eyes.
“So he really doesn’t have any idea,” she says.
“That I’m a lying, awful cheater?”
She touches my arm. “You know I would never think that about you. You’re just...confused.”
“That’s sweet, Rach, but my description is pretty accurate.” I step away from her touch. I don’t want her to feel like she has to comfort me, not after what I did. “I don’t deserve him.”
“Everyone deserves love and happiness.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure I do.” I collapse on the couch as heat prickles behind my eyes. I close them before I let the heat build and tip over into tears. “I just wish I could stop thinking about his brother.”
“Who’s this other guy that’s got you so twisted up? That lured you away from a guy like Brian?” She flops down next to me. “What’s so great about him that you can’t stay away?”
I turn my head to face her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Try me.”
I pull out my phone and click one of the images I saved when I was teaching Mark how to use Snapchat. I hand my phone over to her.
Her eyes widen and she shrieks. Loudly. She sits up. “Oh my God.”
I don’t say anything. I wait for her to play out her entire reaction.
“Holy fucking shitbricks, Reese. Mark fucking Ashton is Brian’s fucking brother?”
I press my lips together and raise both my brows.
“Jesus. No wonder you strayed.”
I narrow my eyes. “The fact that he’s a celebrity doesn’t give me a cheating pass.”
“He’s my number one hall pass. Ask Ben.”
“You think that hall pass bullshit doesn’t come with consequences? Believe me, it does. I wasn’t even in a relationship when it first happened and I’m still dealing with the consequences.”
“So hold the phone just one second. You had a one-night stand with Mark fucking Ashton? And then you slept with him again after you started dating his brother?” Her eyes are full of admiration and I feel nauseous, but then she glares at me. “And you didn’t bother to tell your sister?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. I love my little sister, but this is so typical of her. “This is so not about you. Like not even a little.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Don’t whatever me. What the hell am I going to do?”
“Dude. You had sex with Mark Ashton. Is there even a contest?”
“Yes, there’s a contest!” I’m yelling and I don’t know why. I can’t control the sound of my voice just like I can’t control my emotions. Just like I can’t control anything. In fact, everything is somehow spinning out of control, spinning away from me. “I love Brian!”
“Okay, I get that. You love him. But how do you feel about Mark Ashton?”
“Can you stop using his full name?”
She widens her eyes pointedly, as if to say, well?
“I don’t know how I feel about him. Okay? I feel like I might love him, too, which is completely and utterly ridiculous because I don’t know him, I know the image his publicist paints of him.”
I’m about to go on a rant about what I know and what I don’t know, but Rachel interrupts me.
“You know him on the level that matters most. What does that tell you?”
“Are you asking me to compare the sex?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I’d bet money that you connect with one of them on a completely different sexual level than the other.”
Ben walks into the room as I compare the two in my mind, effectively ending our conversation for now.
But my chat with my little sister has certainly given me a lot to think about.
***
Rachel and Ben spend the next day at the Strip, but I’m the party pooper who stays behind to “catch up on laundry.”
The truth is that I can’t bring myself to actually go back to the Strip. The last time I was there, I made a poor choice, and now I’m living with the consequences of my actions. I’m walking around with a constant bead of guilt in my stomach that’s threatening to erupt into a volcano of truth. I’m so torn on what’s right here. I see it from both sides. I could be—should be?—honest with Brian and tell him that I slept with his brother, or I could continue to bury my secret as one night of dark regret.
Though I can’t realistically categorize it as regret. It meant something, even if it was a night that I never should’ve given into. The secret road feels just a little bit safer. And that’s what I’m doing with my life now: living safely.
Giving into passion? That was a risk. But how does one reject a rock star who shows up in the middle of the night with the sole intent of a sexual encounter? How does one stop the magnetic passion like we share?
I’m not sure, but it’s time for me to work on those muscles, so to speak, so I can flex them when the time comes—if the time comes.
It’s somewhere between folding socks that I push away the confusion that’s been gnawing at me. I won’t think of Mark anymore. I won’t think of that night.
My choice is Brian, and I won’t give into the rock star no matter how passionately persuasive he is next time.
I stay up until midnight, and then I give into sleep. I hear Rachel and Ben stumble in a little after two, both drunkenly giggling as they bump into walls down my hallway. I love that my little sister has found the love of her life, and I hope the decision I’ve made has led me to the love of my own life, too.
Rachel and Ben take off not too long after they get up the next morning. Ben has some work thing he needs to get back for. I didn’t spend a ton of time with my sister in the two nights she stayed with me, but it was enough to force me to pick a direction. It was enough to talk it out with someone who knows me well but doesn’t know the Fox brothers. It was enough for me to see that a life with Mark would never be normal—not that he offered a life, exactly, but just thinking about how I’d fit into his life is very different from how I fit into Brian’s.
It was enough for me to realize that I want what my sister has. I want a man who can complete my sentences. I want to be able to go out to dinner without the paparazzi caring what my date is doing. I want to be able to visit my sister’s house and for my significant other to know where the guest room is located. They’re all tiny, insignificant details, but they’re the sort of details I could have with Brian Fox.
The glitz and glamour isn’t for me. I’m much more of a stay at home on a Friday night in yoga pants and a t-shirt type of gal than a young and hip party girl.
I’m catching up on some reading by the pool when a text from Brian comes through.
Brian: Let’s look at houses this afternoon.
Six simple words send a shot of fear through my stomach. Have we gotten there already? I feel like I barely know him, and he wants me to move in with him—and not just move in with him, but help pick out the house where we will live together.
The thought is overwhelming.
I slept with your brother.
It’s always there, right on the tip of my tongue, the edge of my thoughts, the surface of every part of my day.
Jill knows my secret. Rachel knows my secret.
Mark was there.
Including me, that’s four people who know—not to mention the possibility that Mark might’ve told someone, too. But four people seems like too many to keep a secret of this magnitude. I’m terrified it’s going to come out, and as much as I think time will lessen that fear, it hasn’t. Not at all.
Instead of letting Brian’s invitation to look at houses overwhelm me, I look at the positive side. He wants to move forward to a future that includes me.
That’s what I want, too.
I finally write back.
Me: I’ll go look, but I haven’t made a decision yet.
Brian: You will. Kelsey said our flight to Germany is full.
Me: Can I get on standby?
Brian: Standby has ten names already.
Me: Why is it full?
I realize it’s a stupid question. How should he know? But I’m banking on this trip bringing me closer to him and further from temptation, and I finally geared myself up for it only to be told I’m going to have to sit on a twelve-hour flight by myself.
Brian: Summer vacation in Germany. Lots of traveling to the States.
Me: Is there another flight?
Brian: Not direct. The next direct with room goes out Monday.
Monday? That was supposed to be halfway through my trip. If I go for a week now, I won’t get back until the following Monday, which means I’ll only have a couple days before I have to report back to work. If I cut my trip shorter, he won’t have a day off so we can explore together. Ultimately, my determination to make this work with Brian wins.
Me: Okay. Get me on that one.
A week out of the country will give me plenty of time to put the night with Mark behind me as I face the future with Brian.
When I open my front door later that afternoon, Brian stands on my porch with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. He holds the flowers out to me.
“What are these for?” I ask, pulling them toward my face and drawing in a deep breath. The powerful scent of roses fills my nose.
“Just because I love you. And also an I’m sorry for leaving in the middle of the night last night. No interruptions tonight. I made sure my schedule was clear and I told Becker and Jason that I’m not taking any calls.”
I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “That was sweet of you.”
I’m excited to spend the late afternoon and evening with him. We need this time—time to focus on just the two of us.
“Ready?” I ask once I have the flowers situated and the wine chilling. He takes my hand in his and we head together to his car.
He holds the door open for me and waits for me to slide into his car. He puts on my favorite radio station, and I tense a little when a Vail song comes on.
“So are you a big Vail fan?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood in the car.
He lifts a shoulder. “Sort of have to be, don’t I?”
“You don’t have to do anything except pay taxes and die.”
He gives me a sidelong glance, his forehead wrinkled.
I chuckle. “Something my grandfather used to say.”
“Grandfathers are wise, aren’t they?”
“If you think that saying about taxes and death is wise, then yes.”
He laughs.
“Do you like this song?” I’m not sure why I’m pressing the issue, but I’m curious to know if he’s a fan of his brother’s music.
“Yes. There are some I like more than others, and I find myself critiquing every show.”
“How many times have you seen them?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Hundreds. I used to load gear.”
“You were a roadie?”
He nods. “I was a junior in college when they went on their first tour. I spent two summers as a roadie.”
“Was that fun?”
“It was hard work and long days and paid for shit, but I got to see a lot of the country and I’d still say they were some of the best times of my life.” He glances over at me. “Well, aside from you.”
“Of course,” I say, grinning.
“Before their first tour, they always played this little hole in the wall by our house, and my buddies and I would go watch all the time. That’s when girls started paying attention to me so they could get to him.”
I don’t respond—I can’t. I’m afraid no matter what I say, I’ll sound guilty. Maybe because I am.
When the song is over, he reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Thanks for choosing me,” he says.
He says it like he knows I had a choice, but if he really knew the choice I made, I’m not sure he’d be sitting next to me so casually holding my hand. I’m not sure he’d want me along while he looked at houses, and I’m not sure he’d want to share that house with me.
I stare straight ahead as I wonder when this will start to get easier.
“So that’s how far back the competition between you goes?” I finally ask, curious to know more.
He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, he doesn’t tear his eyes from the road to glance over at me, so I can’t get a good read on him. I study his profile. “No. It goes back further than that. All the way back to our childhood.”
“You fought over girls when you were kids?”
He chuckles. “No. Other things. Parents’ attention, toys, that sort of thing. I was the youngest, and he was always jealous of that. He claims I got everything handed to me and he had to work harder to get what he wanted because he’s the oldest.”
“Do you think that’s still true?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head. “It was never true. We both work hard. I put in my time to get what I want, too. Not everything has just been handed to me.”
I let that stew between us, a little curious about what he means but not sure how else to press the conversation. Aside from Kendra, I’m curious how many other girls they’ve shared between them, how many times one has stolen a woman from the other.
We pull into a driveway, so the conversation is lost. It’s a nice house only a few minutes from mine, and it has a car parked out front.
“Looks like the realtor is already here,” Brian says.
We get out of the car and head inside, and a blonde bombshell named Erica who wears too much make-up along with heels that elongate her legs greets us. Her hair is tied back into a neat chignon and she wears a pencil skirt with a matching blazer.
She tells us it’s a gorgeous house with mountain views and a pool and I try to ignore the way she’s ogling my boyfriend.
She gives us a spec sheet that shows the house is four thousand square feet with five bedrooms and three bathrooms.
It doesn’t feel like home, though.
It’s huge, for one thing—more space than the two of us would need, by far—and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Brian wants to live with me.
I just don’t think I’m ready for that big of a step, but I’m not sure how to tell him that without disappointing him.
“It’s kind of big,” I say once we’re out of Erica’s earshot.
“That’s what she said,” he says, and he shoots me a wicked grin as he grabs himself crudely.
I roll my eyes. “I’m talking about the house.”
“Oh! Of course. Yeah, it’s big, but I want big.” He wraps his arm around me and nuzzles my neck. “I want space where we can grow together.”
Grow together? As in start a family?
My heart races.
That’s definitely not something I’m ready for. It’s not even something I’ve thought about with him quite yet.
“I know it’s soon, but I’m just thinking in terms of a future with you,” he says as we walk into the master bedroom. “This could be our forever home.”
I clear my throat and my mouth opens and closes like a guppy on a hook as I try to think of something to say to that.
He looks at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
“You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay.”
We finish walking through the first house and move to a second one located in the same neighborhood. I’m doing a little better—deep breaths and chugging a bottle of water has helped, but I’m still not completely sold on this idea.
I’m almost there, almost ready to tell him yes after that second house with a whirlpool tub in the master bathroom that I could luxuriate in forever, but then we arrive at the third location.
We pull into the same valet lane we’ve pulled into before and we get out and step through the entrance of the Mandarin Oriental.
Of course. Why wouldn’t Brian want to live in the same building as his brother?
I can’t even imagine living here with the very real possibility of running into Mark Ashton at any given day or time. The idea is terrifying and thrilling at once.
I can’t live here. Not only can’t I afford my share of the mortgage or rent or however the fuck it works to buy a condo in a high rise, but if I’m committing to Brian, I can’t live with Mark’s temptation right under my nose—or above my head, as the case may be. We get off on the twenty-ninth floor and tour a much smaller condo than the penthouse located eighteen stories above us. I’m half-tempted to ask Brian how he can afford a place like this. Is his company doing that well? Or does his brother fund his bankroll?
It shouldn’t matter, but it does. I can’t cohabitate with one man while another man I slept with funds our arrangement.
I’ve crossed too many lines already, but that seems to be my limit.
“Are you sure you want to live in your brother’s building?” I ask once we’ve looked at all three bedrooms.
Brian lifts a shoulder. “He doesn’t own the building.”
I nod, conceding, but don’t otherwise reply.
He heads over to the window to drink in the view. This particular condo doesn’t face the Strip. “I like the location. It’s close to work, not far for you to get to work, in the center of the action. Nice view.”
“I’ve never had a desire to live in the center of the action. Plus traffic’s a bear. I’d rather live on the outskirts than have to drive into it every day.” It’s a feeble excuse, and I suddenly feel like my opinion doesn’t matter. It’s sort of like we’re house shopping for Brian, and I’m moving in with him—not like we’re shopping for houses that we can share, even though that was what he indicated.
“I’ll have to drive into it every day,” he says.
“Your choice was to select an office space right off the Strip. My choice would be not to live directly on the Strip.”
“Fair enough.” He heads back toward the kitchen, calling Erica as he goes.
I hear them chatting with each other, but I’m not really listening. I’m looking out the window at the same view Brian’s bedroom in Mark’s penthouse overlooks. I’m thinking about Mark and what it was like that first night we were together. Also what it was like that second night together—the one that never should’ve happened.
I find that I’m not thinking about my boyfriend and the home we’re looking to share despite my vow to myself that I’d stop thinking about Mark. He keeps sneaking unbidden into my thoughts.
When we get back to my place after looking at a few more houses and going out to dinner, Brian grabs the wine glasses out of the cabinet where we keep them, a reminder about how far we’ve come. He knows where I store my wine glasses. That’s a check in the right column. He’s comfortable in my home. I’m comfortable having him here.
I watch Brian’s strong hands as he pours our wine. I ignore the flash of his brother’s talented hands that runs through my mind. He hands me a glass, and we both hold them up.
“What should we toast to?” I ask.
“To us. To our future.”
I nod and clink my glass against his, sure I’ve made the right choice.
We both take a sip.
“I have some bad news,” he says.
I raise a brow as if telling him to go ahead with it.
“I need to swing another quick trip to Houston.”
I press my lips together in disappointment. “When do you leave?”
He ducks his head before answering. “In the morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I take a sip of wine.
“We were having such a nice evening. I didn’t want to ruin it with work shit.”
My eyes soften. I was frustrated the other night when he had to run out, and I took it out on him. It sucks, but it’s not a deal breaker. He’s just starting his own business, and I’m trying to be more understanding. He deserves that after what I did. “It’s okay. You can’t change your work schedule.”
“Come with me.”
“Won’t you be working the whole time?” I take a sip of my wine, not sure why I’m looking for some reason not to go.
He nods. “Yeah, but you’ll be waiting for me when I get back to my hotel room. You’ll give me something to look forward to.”
“How long will you be gone?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder. “Less than forty-eight hours. It’s mostly prep work for my trip to Germany.”
“You go. I’ll be waiting here when you get back. You can still look forward to that.”
“Oh, I’ll be looking forward to it,” he says, smiling wickedly.
After a couple glasses of wine, we head to my bedroom. I need it to be something other than slow and sensual tonight—need it rough, need it to distract me. I won’t allow another man into my mind when I’m with Brian. It’s not fair to him.
The wine obliterated my inhibitions, so I strip naked and kneel not so patiently on the bed for Brian to get out of his suit. He drapes his clothes neatly onto my dresser while mine lie in a pool on the floor. He’s usually not this meticulous, and all it does is drive me to higher depths of need. He’s finally naked, and I feel like I should’ve had some part in getting him there. He gets onto my bed on one knee, and he comes toward me. We meet in the middle, both of us on our knees naked, and he wraps his arms around me.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” he says softly, tenderly, into my hair.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
His fingertips run up the front of my thigh in search of my center, and as he pushes into the wet flesh, I can’t help the images that dart through my mind of the last man who did this to me.
I push them away. I force myself to make all the right sounds. I allow my hands to move as they should, to find his erection, to grasp and tug. I go through the motions—a kiss here, a nip there, a touch here, a sigh there. When he pushes me onto my back and hovers over me, I force myself to meet his eyes. I’m thankful for the darkness that shadows my tumultuous thoughts.
When he pushes into me, I moan from real desire. He thrusts in and out of me, skin to skin, and I focus on the feel of him. I focus on his amber scent. I focus on his mouth as it finds mine.
He finishes quickly—it’s been a few days since we’ve done this, longer than we usually wait for each other. We just had a conversation the other night about how he always lets me come first, but not tonight. He gets me there with his fingers, and I can’t help noticing that our bodies seem out of sync for the first time in our relationship.