Page 102 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"Good morning," she says, her tone carefully neutral.

"Morning."

We stand in awkward silence while themachine works. Neither of us have mentioned what occurred last week.

"How was your weekend?" I ask, trying for normal conversation.

"Quiet. Caught up on sleep." She glances at me.

"Yours?"

"Worked mostly."

"Of course you did."

There's a hint of amusement in her voice. I catch it and run with it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're incapable of not working." She takes her cup from the machine.

"It's like you don't know how to turn it off."

"Says the woman who was here until eleven last week."

"That was work."

"So was mine."

She almost smiles. "Fair point."

I make my espresso, and we stand there, the conversation feeling easier than it has in days.

"You know," I say, "you laugh differently with other people."

She blinks. "What?"

"With Mike, with Brad, with the team. You laugh. Really laugh. But not with me."

She studies her coffee.

"Maybe you're not as funny as they are."

"Or maybe you're more comfortable with them."

"Maybe I am," she admits quietly.

"Why?"

She looks up at me.

"Because they're not you."

Before I can respond, she leaves. I stand there with my espresso, her words echoing in my head.

Later that afternoon..

The conference room is packed for the team meeting. Karen pulls up the latest media analysis on the screen, and the results are undeniable.