Page 38 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Her eyes cut to me first. The words are on her lips. ‘You know exactly why this is a bad idea.’ But before I can convey that that's all in the past, she slides her eyes to Marcus. He doesn't hold her gaze for even a second before he clears his throat, and then her eyes creep over to Rhys, who isn't even looking at her.

Did something happened with one of the other guys too? I shake my head. No. I'd know. Wouldn't I?

I mean, they don’t know about what happened between us…so maybe they’ve been hiding something from me all this time as well.

Alexia looks between the three of us again, and I can see her building a case.

"It's not—" she starts. Stops. Tries again. "Look. It's not going to work. I keep insane hours. Between the job and the thesis, I'm up till three or more most nights, and that's not fair on you gu⁠—"

Now it’s my turn to give her a look. This one says: Please. I own a fucking bar. I work bartending hours. She catches it. Has the grace to look briefly caught out.

She tries a different tack. "Okay, then, it might affect your...household rhythm."

"That's not a thing, Lexi,” Marcus says.

Her hands go to her hips. “Hey, part of my future job will be to start inventing terms."

"Fine. You're allowed to invent terms in your field. Not to get yourself out of a losing argument because you're panicking," Marcus says impatiently.

She glares at him but doesn’t have a comeback ready.

Finally, Rhys lines up the last piece of pita and looks up. "Look, it’s this simple: the reason you should stay is because," he says, "we want you to."

That's all he says. But it's enough to make her stop and think.

"What about rent?" she finally asks, as if that's the last thing she can think of.

“No rent,” I say. "Leon's still paying his part of the mortgage. Why would we charge you rent?"

"That doesn't feel right."

Marcus shrugs. “But it's fine with us. If you want, sort something out with Leon, pay him to help with his mortgage. But you know your brother as well as we do — he'll be insulted if you offer."

She pulls a face, knowing he's right. “Fine. I’ll think of something. Contribute somehow."

"Up to you," Marcus says, picking up one of the arancini from the appetisers platter and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. "Not necessary though."

She turns to Rhys one more time. He finally meets her eyes.

“And you? Are you — really okay with this?" she asks, her voice so low, it's almost inaudible.

"He's fine," Marcus answers for him through a mouthful of fried crumbs.

Rhys doesn't even look at him. "She was asking me."

"And I was answering for you."

Rhys exhales through his nose. He looks back at her. "It's fine with me," he says. "If it is with you."

She looks away first. Picks up her beer, takes a long drink — and, sighs, then nods.

Marcus whoops. "We need more food," he announces, already standing. "To celebrate. This is a celebration now."

I point to the table. "There's a full plate of appetisers right⁠—"

He's gone. The back door swings shut behind him.

"Regret it yet?" I ask her.