It sounds perfect. Like everything I want to hear. But I can’t help but wonder how confident he truly is, considering he still won’t speak to me about his sister. All I know are the small bits he’s shared, and while I appreciate them, it’s not the same. If he’s truly as sure as he’s saying, then surely he’s ready to share more? At least something more than what I’ve gotten thus far.
How can you decide you’re really ready to marry someone and start a life with them if you’re still keeping secrets?
Yeah, Brielle, how?
“I need to tell—” I start, only to be cut off by the front door opening.
My tongue goes numb when Evie shuts it behind her and kicks her sneakers off, sending them tumbling forward a few feet. She hasn’t noticed us yet and busies herself with shrugging her cardigan down her arms, revealing the Save The Trees shirt that’s tucked into the top of her patchy jeans.
“Are you home?” she calls out.
Roman clears his throat loudly, catching her attention. Her eyes go wide when she whirls around and places a hand to her chest.
“Wanted a bit of free entertainment, did you?” she asks him before sliding her eyes to me. They grow impossibly wider. “Brielle? Did we have plans? I swear I didn’t forget anything.”
I force a smile. “No, we didn’t have plans.”
“Okaaaay,” she drawls awkwardly. “This feels very weird.”
Roman’s knee begins to bounce. “Could you sit with us?”
“Uh, sure.”
I want to bury my face in a pillow and scream with how tense the air has gotten. It’s obvious that something’s up now. This isn’t some nonchalant info drop. Maybe we’ve gone about this wrong.
Before she can make it to the couch, I’m standing. I slap my thighs and blurt out every thought in my head.
“We’re dating. Me and Roman. Your uncle and I.” I wince, watching as the initial shock hits her. “I’ve been so scared that you’re going to think that I only started hanging out with you because of him, but I need you to know that’s not the case. Not at all. You’re a really cool girl, Evie. And regardless of him, I want you to be my friend. So does Aubrey. You’re also incredibly talented, and the work you’ve done is by far the best I’ve ever seen. That’s why I booked that boudoir shoot and why I’ve told everyone who will listen to do the same. My feelings for Roman haven’t ever had any influence over that or our friendship. Hell, even if he had continued shutting me down and being a total ass, I’d be here watching movies with you and drinking wine while we gossip. So . . . yeah. That’s all I have to say.”
The following seconds are the longest of my life.
I know Roman’s looking at me, and he could be mad at me for spewing all of this before he had the chance to say something. That wouldn’t change the fact that I’ve already done what I needed to. If I can’t tell him aboutCrushedvelvet, then at least I did this.
“Alright.”
What?
“Alright?” Roman asks, bewildered.
Evie looks from him to me and then back to him again, her gaze slightly narrowed. She takes the claw clip out of her hair and snaps it in the air twice.
“If you’re telling me this, then clearly, you’re serious about each other. And considering you’ve never once brought a womanhome or told me a single thing about your love life since I came to live with you, I’m going to guess you’re in love with her, too. So, yeah, alright.” She focuses on me now, a slow smile climbing her face. “And I wouldn’t have thought you were using me, even without the speech. It was a good touch, though.”
My shoulders slump forward. “You’re . . . one of the most surprising people I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes,” I blurt out before laughing.
Nobody mentions her bringing up love.
Roman’s hand finds my back and stays there, even when Evie follows the movement. “I don’t want you to say anything for my benefit. I need the truth from you. You’re my family.”
“I mean it, Uncle. Personally, I don’t think you could have done better than Elle in the first place.”
I shake my head, still trying to digest her reaction. Roman is silent, but I know he’s doing the same.
She finally joins us on the couch and flops down beside me. “Did you cook lasagne?”
