“This place is sick,” Chandler says, looking at the city view from my balcony.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. You’ve done great for yourself, sis.”

“Thanks.”

“So, when do I get to read your speech?” he asks me, sitting next to me on my outdoor sofa.

“Um, hopefully, I’ll have it done this weekend. Then I’ll send it to you.”

“Send it to Roan, too.”

“Ah . . . okay.”

“Something wrong with that?” I shake my head, feeling my anxiety spike.

Don’t act stupid, Mia.

“Not at all.”

“Come on, Mia. You aren’t really gonna lie to me about him forever, are you?”

Shit, Roan told him.

“What are you talking about?” I’m all nervous energy as the words tumble out, and I grab my bottle of water from the table, fidgeting with the label.

“About Roan.”

“What about Roan?”

“Well, I know you like him. That much is clear. I can tell by the way you look at him and get all quiet and shit when he’s around.”

I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t like him.”

Maybe Roan didn’t tell him.

“Seriously? It’s me you’re talking to. I know how to read women.”

Does he ever. My brother, the womanizer, can probably read minds. Then mine flashes to Roan’s mouth on my body and . . .

“See, right there, you’re thinking about him, and you have to stop.”

“I’m thinking about my speech. Don’t act like you can read my mind.”

“Deny it all you want, but I know what I see, and I really can’t emphasize enough how bad of a choice it would be if you and Roan hooked up. He’s not the one for you. Hell, he has more baggage than a crowded seven forty-seven.”

Roan definitely didn’t tell him.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” And thankfully his phone chimes. Like a distracted dog, he looks at it. I wonder if I could distract him with perfume or something the next time he starts to grill me about liking Roan.

“Then you won’t mind if I invite him out with us tonight?”

I shake my head, not about to give my brother so much as a hint of him being right. The chirp of him sending a text goes off, which is shortly followed by receiving one.

“All right, let’s go.”

Coolly, I get off the sofa and traipse back inside my house to grab my purse from the kitchen.

“You coming?” I call over my shoulder, but he’s so lost in his phone he hardly responds.

“Roan asked me if you were coming.” The quirk of his lips taunts me with what he knows, but I refuse to admit. As if this is a game to him.

“What did you say?” I ask locking my back door after he walks through it.

“What should I say?”

“Say whatever the fuck you want, Chandler! I don’t like him.”

“God, you’re pissy tonight, maybe I don’t want to hang with you at all.”

“I’m sorry.” I really am. It’s not fair that I’m taking my frustrations for Roan out on him. “I’m just stressed about the conference. I’m the youngest one speaking and—”

“And you’re gonna do great, Mia. You know why? Because you’re my sister and you’re fucking amazing!”

I smile as he slings his arm over my shoulder. “You know I’m only teasing you about Roan. I know you don’t like that old fucker.”

If only he knew.

We make the short trip on foot to one of my favorite restaurants, and I pray now more than ever that Chandler never finds out what Roan and I did. I just added insult to injury by lying to him.

As we enter, the hostess is on the phone, and when she looks up at us, her expression changes to anger. Chandler whispers in my ear, “Shit . . . I fucked her.” Of course, he did.

“Who haven’t you fucked?” I quietly ask.

“A lot of women.” We both smile at the poor girl, who throws us a hateful glare as we make our way into the bar area without her assistance in picking a table.

“Aren’t you scared of diseases and shit?” I ask as we sit at a table just like we did the other night. And I wonder if that’s why he likes to pick his own tables.

“Nah, I keep my boy wrapped up.”

Too. Much. Information. I shake my head, trying to erase the image of my brother and a condom. Hell, it’s so wrong. In order to burn the image out of my brain, I order a double rum and coke with a shot of Patrón.

“Damn, someone’s ready to party!”

He has no idea. Before I can wash my worries away in endless amounts of alcohol, Roan walks through the front door. He looks mouth-watering in his dark jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled half up, showing me his tattoos that I’ve missed. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower, and . . . I can’t stop staring at him. He’s looking around for us, and internally I fight the ball of butterflies that are flooded inside my belly. Then he looks at me.

“Motherfucker,” I grumble and glance in the other direction.

“What did you say?” Chandler asks me.

“Who? Me? I didn’t say anything.” I shake my head, pissed for making such a simple and stupid mistake. And before Chandler can give me any more of a hard time, Roan is at the table.

“Mia,” he says in his rich voice just as the waitress sets our drinks down. I slam the shot and tell her, “I’ll take another.”

The guys stare at me as if something is wrong with me. I bite back a scoff. Between the three of us, I’m the most normal one. So I give them a tight smile and then lift my drink to my lips and take a sip.

“What’s up, man?” Chandler asks him.

“Not much, just hung with the girls today. You?”

“Didn’t do shit. Hey, did Veronica tell you she was quitting?”

“No, why.”

“I went into the office to check on a few things, and she was there packing her desk.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, what was I supposed to say?”

“Uh . . . ask her what she’s doing.”

“Nah, I know it’s because of me. She wanted to stay the night at my house the other night, and I told her fuck no.”

“Chandler, you can’t talk to women like that,” I scold, and Roan nods in agreement. But the comment he made reminds me of the night Roan left me. A jolt of pain shoots through my heart.

“I didn’t ask her for this shit. She came on to me. She was the one who initiated it. It’s not my problem that she didn’t listen when I told her I don’t do relationships.” The waitress sets another shot down, and Chandler watches me slam it. “Slow down, would ya?”

I roll my eyes, and Roan looks between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

“You want to tell him, or should I?” Chandler asks, and Roan’s face drains of color. He’s worried that my brother found out about what happened between us.

“What’s to tell? I’m stressed about my speech.”

Roan lets out a deep breath; clearly, relief rushes over him. I know with not only how Chandler is acting but also with the way things ended for Roan and me, I have to let go of my feelings. I can’t keep living my life like this.