Chapter 8
Bennett
“I can’t believe it.” Gilbert Sloane slaps his leg. “You have a roommate. A woman.”
“Yes, yes.” I take a sip of my whiskey. “It’s all very hilarious that my brother cheated on another girlfriend.”
We’re sitting on Gil’s balcony. He lives downtown, on the eighth floor of a relatively new building. He was supposed to visit me today, but I couldn’t risk him meeting Zoe. She said she was going out to “enjoy the autumn weather,” whatever that means, but I wasn’t sure when she’d get back.
So here I am.
I suppose it is a nice day. In a few hours, it’ll be too cold to sit outside, but now, with the sun on my back? It seems right to sit outside while I can. There might not be more Saturdays like this until next year.
I’m slightly disturbed by this train of thought. Zoe Shen is rubbing off on me.
“Does your brother have good taste in women?” Gil asks.
“Excuse me?”
“Is she cute? Is that why you agreed?” He waggles his eyebrows in an appalling fashion.
“No.”
I hope my abrupt response doesn’t make him suspicious.
Gil leans back in his chair and rakes a hand through his dark blond hair. The bastard practically looks like he’s starring in a shampoo commercial, and he seems to be enjoying himself far too much.
Zoe moved in almost two weeks ago, upsetting the balance of my life.
Last Saturday, I’d planned to go to sleep at eleven, as usual, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn out the lights without knowing she’d gotten home safely.
She hadn’t told me exactly what her plans were, though, so I had no idea when she’d return.
Thank god it was before midnight.
This past week went a little better than the one before it. I’m getting more accustomed to having her in my space, but I still can’t fully adjust to her presence. To her shoes by the door and her llamacorn mug in my cupboard. To the way she smells of sunshine and fresh flowers.
I should not be thinking about that.
I also shouldn’t be thinking about how excited she was when I brought home four different kinds of mooncakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival. I got a variety because I wasn’t sure what she prefers.
It’s a decision I regret. Her delight was almost enough to make me smile, and that’s unacceptable.
Dammit. I’m trying not to show that she affects me, but Gil has known me for a while. Unfortunately. We met because of softball—the co-ed league that my parents thought would help me meet women. That was four years ago, and though I haven’t played since, I’m still friends with Gil.
“No,” he repeats. “No, she’s not cute…or she is cute, but that’s not why you agreed?”
This man is making my head hurt.
“How she looks is completely irrelevant,” I say.
“Sure it is. I’m guessing she has something to do with why you came to visit me today, rather than the other way around.”
“It was out of respect for your busy schedule.” Gil’s a doctor.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” he says.
“Look, I’m just worried about what would happen if the two of you met. You’d probably come up with some novel way to piss me off.”
He replies with a shrug. “I assume you’re not bringing her to dim sum tomorrow?”
“No, my parents don’t know that I’m seeing someone yet.” I won’t tell them for a few weeks, until I know Zoe a little better and have a chance of answering all the questions I expect them to lob at me.
“Do you think Clifton will be there?”
“Yeah. It’s a long weekend, after all.”
When my brother joins us at the table, I merely give him a curt nod.
I can’t let on that I know he cheated. Not yet. It isn’t part of the plan.
Thankfully, no one in my family is prone to unexpected visits. My mother used to do them sometimes—her excuse was that she worried about me—but I managed to shut it down. Which means nobody will show up at my house and discover I have a woman living with me.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mom says to Clifton after she hands our order sheet to the server. I know she’s gotten extras of his favorites.
“I couldn’t miss it.” Clifton spreads his arms. “It’s Thanksgiving weekend.”
My family has never really celebrated Thanksgiving. There was no turkey or other special meal at home when I was a kid, but we’d usually go out.
Clifton and I have always been very different.
When he was a baby and toddler, I found his development fascinating, and I was proud of the responsibilities I could handle.
Though I was never left alone in the house with him, I could watch him while my parents cooked.
I could feed him from a bottle and burp him afterward.
By the time he was in high school, it was another story. Sure, many teenagers can be selfish, but he took it a step further than most, and our relationship has never recovered from what happened when I was twenty-four.
He looks at me and grins, like he hasn’t a care in the world.
Clifton might say I’m the favorite, but our parents do love us both, even if they’ll never say that word out loud.
An uncomfortable silence descends on the table, although the room is hardly quiet. It’s a bustling restaurant, and there’s already a wait.
Finally confident that I won’t punch Clifton if given the chance, I reach for my teacup.
“Have you been on any dates recently?” Mom asks me.
I nearly choke on my tea. Usually, such a question wouldn’t faze me, but I’m off-kilter.
“I have not,” I manage to say.
To my parents’ credit, they didn’t bug me about this for the longest time. But once I turned thirty-four, that changed.
“Do you need help?” my mother asks.
Well, that’s a new one.
“I do not need help,” I say firmly.
Clifton, the little shit, is laughing. Mind you, Gil would probably also laugh if he were here, and he’s actually my friend.
But the good thing about my brother’s presence today? My parents soon turn their focus to him.
“What about you?” Dad asks.
“Oh, you know what it’s like,” Clifton says with an insouciant shrug. He helps himself to the siu mai as soon as the steamer is placed on the table.
I can’t wait until I bring Zoe with me and see his look of shock. He won’t be able to look so casual when that happens.
Mom deposits some food on my plate, then says to Clifton, “Weren’t you dating someone in the summer?”
He shrugs again. “Just didn’t work out.”
Yeah, because you fucked her roommate.
Zoe deserves so much better than him.
I grit my teeth and start eating. My mother will be concerned if I leave food on my plate.
Clifton takes a quick look at his phone—which I last saw in Zoe’s hands—before pocketing it and returning his attention to the siu mai.
“You know,” Dad says to my brother, “you have lots of relationships, but none of them last. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down? Why didn’t this one work out?”
This time, I actually do choke on my tea, but I manage to recover quickly.
Clifton shoots me a look, and I swear there’s the tiniest spark of fear in his eyes. Fear that I know what happened and will tell the rest of our family?
But a moment later, he’s smiling. “Do you want me to marry the wrong woman? These things take time.”
Mom regards him. “Yes, I guess not everyone gets lucky when they’re young.”
Indeed.
When I drive up to the house just after noon, Zoe is walking up the sidewalk. She waves at me with an eagerness that is, frankly, a little disturbing. Why is she so happy to see me?
Though to be honest, she’d probably smile and wave enthusiastically to almost anyone. I’m not special.
Which is fine. Just fine.
I step out of my car and exit the garage.
“Don’t close it!” Zoe says.
I whip my head toward her. “Why not?”
She has an even bigger grin on her face now. When I follow her gaze, I understand why.
Shit.
“You have a convertible,” she says, delighted.
I know it’s stupid, but when I was young, I wanted a sports car, and so when I could afford a second vehicle, I got a Miata. I’m not usually one for foolish purchases, but that was a foolish purchase, even though it was reasonably priced. I almost never drive it.
“I can’t believe it!” She claps her hands.
“Why is this so amusing?”
“Because it’s not like you.”
I don’t disagree.
Clearly, she’s not one for cars, though. To her, it’s just a small black convertible, and there are no comments, positive or negative, about me being a Miata guy.
She steps closer to the car. “I also can’t believe you actually fit in this.”
“Just barely.”
It’s a good thing I’m not a few inches taller. There are mods that some tall people do, but I haven’t bothered with any of those.
“We should take it out,” she says.
“Absolutely not.”
“To be clear, I don’t expect to drive it.”
“It’s a manual.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely not driving it, but you can take us somewhere fun. We should go on a date.”
This conversation has gotten out of control.
“A date,” I repeat faintly.
“Yes! We’re faking a relationship, after all.”
“I thought we were only going to pretend in front of my family. If we go out, odds are we won’t see anyone we know.”
“True,” she says, “but we need practice at faking it. I was supposed to go to a cidery with Clifton two weeks ago. Why don’t we do that?”
“Now?”
“Sure! It’s a beautiful day for a drive up north—it’s about forty-five minutes away. Or we can go next weekend, if you’re busy today. I can’t go by myself because I don’t have a car.”
I don’t reply. This woman is turning my life upside down.
“Please?” She puts her hand on my arm.
When I stiffen, she jumps back.
“Sorry!” she says, looking guilty. “I shouldn’t have touched you. But will you consider it?”
I sigh. I’d planned to do some work this afternoon, but I suppose it can wait.
“We can go,” I say. “Today, if that suits you.”
“Yay!” She scurries to the front door. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready. You should change, too.”
“Why? This is fine for a date.”
“I want to see you wear jeans. Do you even own jeans?”
“I do.” For some reason, I’m slightly offended by her question.
“Then put on some jeans and that Henley you wore last weekend.”
Why is she keeping track of my clothing? And why is she bossing me around?
“Fine,” I grumble, stepping inside.
I’m already starting to regret this, but I’m a man of my word.