Malcolm makes a noncommittalgo ontype of noise deep in his throat.
“Either way, the result is the same. Maple is holed up in a hotel unwilling to see me. We’ve come to an agreement wherein I am allowed to woo her.” I frown as I say my next words, fighting through the acid in my chest to get them out. “I don’t know how to woo her. Or, more accurately, I have alreadybeenwooing her by any standard I can find. I shower her in gifts. I compliment her constantly, and I praise her even more. I give her every scrap of time I have to spare. I fulfill her every request, including the ones she hasn’t thought to ask yet. We hug. We cuddle. We spend hours and hours lying together, watching movies or talking or reading. I’ve hit every single love language. I’ve glided through every applicable romance trope. I’ve spent the entirety of our platonic relationship loving her with all of the cells in my body, and I don’t know how to domore. Where is themorewhen a man’severythingis in the palms of his lover’s hands? How do I find it, and how do I give it to her?”
Malcolm doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, I wish that he would have not answered at all. “Perhaps you could consider having someone hire her to murder you?”
Of all the hairbrained, useless drivel…
“I take it back,” I declare. “You arenotthe best brother in the world.”
He sniffs. “What an absolutely nonsensical thing to say to me.”
“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking,” I grouse. “Hire her to kill me? She’d do it for free right now, and it wouldn’t solve my problem at all. I’d be dead in the ground and she’d still be unwooed.”
“To be fair, you’re not supposed to let her succeed,” he drones. “You’re supposed to let her get close and then use that closeness to your advantage.”
“Closeness isn’t an issue,” I remind him. “Maple and I are always close.”
“Didn’t you say she’s locked herself away in a tower where you can’t reach?”
“It’s a hotel,” I counter. “And I’ll be able to reach it shortly. She’s agreed to let me woo her.”
He sighs. “Why would you call me for advice if you’re not willing to take my advice?”
“Because I mistakenly believed you’d have ideas that didn’t involve safe words or attempted murder?”
He exhales the puffing idea of a laugh. “Silly of you.”
“I have to go,” I grumble. “Tell your little assassin that I say hello.”
“I will. As soon as she lets me out of the closet. I love you,” he says, like he’s not said anything concerning at all. “As big as the moon and bigger.”
My irritation softens, just a little. “I love you, too,” I repeat. “As big as the moon and bigger.”
We hang up, and I turn my attention to my particularly pesky spreadsheet. “You suck,” I tell it. When it does not miraculously fill itself with ideas to get me out of my predicament and into eternal marital bliss, I sigh.
“I need more brothers,” I mutter. “Ones less inclined to think knives are romantic.”
Hm. Or maybe ones inclined to think knives are romantic in a different sort of way.
My face brightens, and I stand.
“I’ll be back,” I warn the spreadsheet. “Prepare yourself.”
My cursor blinks at me from a cell block, taunting.
I give it my back. I have better things to do than argue with a line on a screen.
After all, I have a whole new brother justperfectfor this occasion.
?
“I wish I could help more,” Birch Valor says from across my kitchen counter. “But, honestly, if a rich, handsome man were in love with me and gifted me the surprise wedding of my dreams, I’d be a little more grateful and a little less drama queen runaway bride than Maple’s being.” His blue eyes roll, a near copy of his sister’s. Unlike his sister however, he offers me no real aid in the face of hardship.
I frown at my new brother and always chef. “Aren’t you supposed to have magical insight? She’s been your sister your entire life.”
He raises a sarcastic eyebrow at me. “Aren’tyousupposed to have magical insight?” he retorts. “She’s been your best friend your entire life.”
“And you’ve been a useless brat my entire life,” I grumble. “I had hoped you’d make up for that now.”
