And another.
Them at Christmas, looking ten years younger. Them at a birthday party wearing matching grins. Them holding up a big fish by the lake, at age abouttwelve or thirteen.
“What the fuck?” I whispered, staring at the messages, some of my certainty leaking away.
Another message popped in, this one from Caitlyn.
Please be my wedding planner, Silas. Bryson is telling the truth! My groom has a twin, and his twin really likes you. And why wouldn’t he? You’re amazing. And Bryson is a great guy, an honest guy, I swear! You’d be such a cute couple.
I scrolled through the messages that had come in while I ignored my phone, including a voicemail from Carol Ann.
I hit play.
“Silas, a man who insists he’s not the groom came by. He showed me his driver’s license. I believe he’s telling the truth, hon. It sounds like a terrible mix-up. Call if you need anything.”
A dozen texts from Bryson. Several earlier ones from Caitlyn. Each growing more frantic as I refused to answer.
“Silas?” Maverick said. “You okay?”
I shook my head, staring at the evidence, as my stomach churned. “This can’t be right. He can’t be telling the truth.”
“This is a good thing,” Jamie said. “Right?”
That did it. My stomach lurched, and I ran for the bathroom. “I’m gonna be sick!”
I hurled myself to my knees in front of the toilet.
“Welcome to life in a rom-com,” Maverick said dryly while I heaved. “Looks like gorgeous twins are running around after all, and you, my friend, made yourself sick over one of them.”
I hurled for a few minutes, and when I came up for air, I glared at Maverick. “You’re not comforting.”
He chuckled. “I know. I’m just enjoying this.”
“Seeing me miserable?”
“Seeing youcareabout something.”
Jamie pushed into the bathroom with us, as if it wasn’t already crowded enough, and handed me a glass of water.
While I sipped, he stroked my hair back from my sweaty forehead. “You’re going to be okay, Silas. Everything will.”
I closed my eyes, the comfort almost too much to handle.
The news that Bryson wasn’t a liar should be a relief. I should be happy. Iwas, for Caitlyn’s sake. But the mixup was a good thing, because it woke me the fuck up.
One night, and I’d been falling apart over this guy. I’d been with Michael months before I felt even a fraction of that. If Bryson had the power to upset me so much this quickly, I needed to stay the fuck away from him.
Because I hated how weak I’d been for Michael. Hated how he’d shattered me. How hard it had been to pick up the pieces and move on.
And I’d be damned if I ever let that happen again.
CHAPTER 8
Bryson
“Here,sweetie, have more bacon. A big guy like you needs more protein. You’re so handsome, aren’t you? Maybe Caitlyn picked the wrong brother.”
She laughed, her voice a little raspy from years of smoking, and piled four slices of bacon on a plate already swimming in syrup from the stack of pancakes she’d doled out.
