Page 66 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"I'm never drinking again."

"You say that every time," Sarah points out.

Room service arrives with breakfast—eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, and a pot of strong coffee. We settle around the small dining table, eating in relative silence as we nurse our hangovers.

"So," Jane says after a few minutes, her eyes sharp despite her obvious fatigue.

"Last night. You and Dax."

My heart jumps. "What about it?"

"You two stepped away for a while," Sarah adds.

"What did you talk about?"

I take asip of coffee, buying time.

"Just about Miles. The wedding. He apologized for his brother."

Jane studies me. "That's it?"

"That's it." I force myself to meet her gaze.

"It was awkward, but we cleared the air. That's all."

Sarah seems satisfied with this explanation, already moving on to discussing today's plans. But Jane watches me for a moment longer before nodding and returning to her eggs.

I can't bring myself to tell them the truth. Can't admit that I let Dax fuck me in a public bathroom while they were dancing twenty feet away. Can't explain the way my body responded to him, the way I'm still feeling him now.

So I keep quiet and eat my breakfast.

"Okay," Sarah announces, pulling out her phone.

"Today we're doing more sightseeing. The Met, shopping in SoHo again, maybe a walk through the Village."

Jane perks up. "I want to go to that bookstore you mentioned."

"The Strand?" Sarah nods.

"We can do that."

We spend the next hour getting ready—showering, dressing, doing makeup. By eleven, we're out the door and heading into the city.

Manhattan is alive with energy. We spend the afternoon wandering through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, getting lost in galleries filled with paintings and sculptures. Sarah takes photos of everything. Jane buys postcards in the gift shop.

I try to be present. Try to enjoy this time with my friends. But my mind keeps drifting back to last night.

We're walking through Central Park when my phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and freeze.

Dax: How are you?

My heart stutters. I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Jane and Sarah are ahead of me, pointing at something near the lake. They haven't noticed I've stopped. I slip my phone back into my purse without responding. An hour later, while we're browsing a boutique in SoHo, my phone buzzes again.

Dax: Scarlett.

Just my name. Nothing else. But the weight of it feels heavy, demanding. I don't respond. I turn my phone on silent and focus on the racks of dresses Sarah is showing me.

The rest of our time in New York blurs together in a montage of sights and experiences.