Well, that’s confusing, although I’m the first to admit I don’t understand sibling relationships. I may work with Trent now, but we’ve never acted like brothers. We could barely tolerate each other growing up, and even now that I work for him, I don’t really consider Trent to be anything but my boss I happen to share some DNA with. So I’m not sure how you have an entire conversation with someone and not know how they are doing.
Kelsey waves away my slight frown. “She’s fine. I see now that the correct answer was ‘she’s fine.’ Though, for the record, I never asked ‘how are you doing?’”
The light is catching Kelsey’s lip gloss, and I can’t stop staring. Kelsey is naturally beautiful and rarely wears makeup, so I’m sure that’s the reason I can’t stop staring at her lips.
“Glad she’s…fine,” I say, pulling my gaze away from Kelsey’s mouth. Not that looking at her eyes is any better. They’re what I’ve heard my mom call gunmetal blue, but it’s hard to say because there are so many colors when you start looking into them. A dark ring of sapphire lines the iris with streaks of a grayish green flowing into the moss-green color that circles her pupil. They’re an ocean on a stormy day, and I feel like my boat just disappeared from under me, dropping me directly into their depths.
Kelsey tilts her head to the side, squishing her eyebrows together, but with a quick shake of her head, she continues. “Yeah, me too.Anyway, she told me she was in the dealership getting her car looked at, and Trent came in. He was asking how much he could get if he sold back Julie’s car.”
“Why’s that strange?” I ask. Since Trent started dating his trophy wife—his words, not mine—I’ve had the displeasure of hearing about the hot tub, car, and new kitchen he’s bought her. It makes sense that he’d be upgrading her to a new model vehicle already. I’m sure he has the funds just lying around to buy whatever she wants, not that I’m bitter about it or anything.
The left corner of Kelsey’s nose pulls up slightly as she looks at me with disbelief, and fuck if it isn’t one of the cutest things I’ve seen in a long time. My cheeks heat, and despite my best efforts, a smile crosses my face. Kelsey returns it with one of her own, and it takes all of my willpower not to reach across the table and trace her grin with my thumb.
We do not caress our rivals.We do not caress our rivals. We do not—
“Do you not pay any attention to the town gossip?” Kelsey asks.
“No. I only see my mom and Bill, and they know I couldn’t care less about what’s going on in town.”
“Hmm,” she says, and there’s something about her tone that suggests she disagrees with my decision not to know what’s going on. Or maybe she’s disappointed in it. I can’t really tell.
“Are you going to tell me why anything about Trent is interesting?”
“You know,” Kelsey says, “I would normally agree with you, and I still can’t stand to be in the same room as the guy, but he’s a lot smarter than I give him credit for. Or at least his emails make him sound interesting. Does he have an assistant who handles his emails?”
Of course Kelsey would be smart enough to figure out that Trent’s IQ jumps about fifteen, maybe twenty, points in his written communication. Needing to avoid that conversation, I offer a noncommittal grunt before trying to pivot.
“Could be. But why is it interesting?” I ask.
“He just bought her the car. It was a whole thing because it’s the second vehicle he’s purchased for her since they’ve been married. The first one was a pale pink Mini Cooper, and then he bought this new electric one because she’s worried about saving the Earth. To be clear, she kept the Mini, she just only drives it to the city—the men at coffee have had a field day with that one.”
“So maybe she decided she doesn’t actually care about the Earth,” I say with a shrug. I’ve spent very little time around my brother’s wife, and after what I witnessed at her wedding, I think I’d prefer to keep it that way.
“Yeah, maybe. Iz just said that Trent seemed weird about it. She used the termshifty.”
“Well, Trentisshifty. He comes by it naturally. Have you met my sperm donor?”
“I suppose. Izzy just has a strangely good sense for other people’s emotions, so I thought I’d mention it.”
There’s not much I can do about it from the Netherlands, and the last thing I want to do on our date—at our dinner—is talk about Trent. I don’t really care why Julie doesn’t want her car anymore. Maybe she’s giving up driving or only taking gold-plated bikes from now on. Maybe they’re getting a divorce—shit, I hope Trent has a prenup and the company isn’t going to go down with their marriage. Iadd that to my mental list of things Ishouldask Trent about. Whatever it is, though, it’s definitely not as interesting as the woman sitting across from me—nothing is.
Our conversation flows along with the red wine, which I’ve learned is Kelsey’s favorite. She prefers drier ones but will drink just about any that’s poured for her. My mom doesn’t drink, and since moving home, I’ve limited myself to one a night, too depressed by the idea of drinking alone.
Kelsey has become more animated, her arms moving in larger arcs since we started in on our dessert. I’m not sure if it’s the wine, the atmosphere, or the company, but my cheeks are physically hurting from smiling so much. It’s the most fun I’ve had in…maybe forever, but definitely since I moved back home. I’m transfixed by the woman across from me, and it might be the wine talking, but there seems to be something between us. Something more than just the friendship we’ve casually fallen into.
As the waiter clears our dessert plates, I find myself reluctant for the evening to end. The restaurant has emptied around us, the other diners trickling out into the night, leaving behind a soft hush punctuated only by the clink of glasses and the muted conversations of the staff.
Kelsey’s eyes sparkle in the flickering candlelight as she regales me with stories from her days in the Marines. Her hand gestures paint pictures in the air, and I’m captivated by the graceful dance of her fingers. The way she tucks a stray lock of her wild hair behind her ear, the curve of her smile, the natural cadence of her voice—every detail etches itself intomy memory.
As she reaches the punchline of her tale, she leans forward, her hand falling on top of mine on the table, and every single nerve ending in my body fires at once. It’s a heady rush of sensation, and it makes me want to lean across the table and press my mouth to hers.
She offers me a hopeful smile, one I’ve never seen on her face before, and as I stand, I grab her hand, fully intent on pulling her into me and taking what I’ve wanted since high school. The want that almost got me suspended all those years ago.
The ringing of her phone draws her attention from me, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the name of her number two, Lila Walker, flashing across her screen. Glancing at me once, she considers the phone again before reluctantly pulling her hand away from mine to answer.
Moving quickly, she walks toward the door, telling Lila to give her a minute until she can get outside. I trail after her, cursing myself for not kissing her when I had the chance.
“Hold on, Carter’s right here,” she says as I exit the door.
