Page 87 of Claimed By The Other Brother

As we pull into traffic, I look out at the city lights. Next week, Scarlett Bradford walks into my office. And then we'll see what happens.

Chapter Seventeen

Scarlett

Over the next few days, my phone becomes a constant source of stress. Miles calls. Texts. Leaves voicemails that I delete without listening to.

I'm at my desk trying to wrap up a client report when another call comes through. Miles. Again.

I silence it and go back to work.

Ten minutes later, a text:

Miles: Please, Scarlett. Just one dinner. That's all I'm asking.

I stare at the message. Jane's voice echoes in my head—take the job, let the cards fall where they may—but I haven't told Miles about New York yet. Haven't figured out how to explain that I'm leaving Chicago for six months.

Maybe dinner would be the right time. A final conversation before everythingchanges.

I type back:

Scarlett: Fine. Dinner. Tomorrow night.

His response is immediate:

Miles: Thank you. I'll pick you up at seven.

I set my phone down and return to the report, trying not to think about what I've just agreed to.

***

Miles arrives at my apartment at seven sharp, holding a bouquet of red roses.

"For you," he says, extending them with a hopeful smile.

I take them, the thorns pricking my fingers through the cellophane.

"Thank you."

"You look beautiful."

I'm wearing a simple black dress, nothing special. But Miles is looking at me like I'm the most important thing in the world, and something in my chest twists uncomfortably.

The restaurant he chose is upscale, the kind of place with white tablecloths and prix fixe menus. We're seated at a corner table, candlelight flickering between us.

Miles orders wine. I order water.

"I'm really glad you agreed to this," he says once the waiter leaves.

"I know I don't deserve it, but I'm grateful you're giving me a chance to explain."

"I'm listening," I tell him.

And I do listen. For the next twenty minutes, Miles talks. About how he panicked. About how the wedding felt too fast, too permanent. About how he's always struggled with commitment, with knowing what he really wants.

"I think we rushed into it," he says, reaching across the table like he wants to take my hand but doesn't quite dare.

"The engagement, the wedding planning. We went from dating then all of the sudden engaged and planning a wedding in less than a year. I should have said something sooner. I should have told you I was having doubts."