Page 113 of My Unfinished Heart

“It’s kinda like acting,” he says. “You get up in front of a jury—you make them trust you, you put on a little show.”

It’s my turn to laugh and he joins me.

“What do you think I should be?” he asks.

“My boyfriend. I think it should become your entire identity.”

He snorts. “What does that pay?”

“A lot.”

“Sold. But I’ll still have to go to law school. My brother said I couldn’t hack it, and I have to prove him wrong.”

“What’s his name? Do I need to have a talk with him?”

“His name is Marcus, and you should avoid him whenever possible. He smells terrible. He’s never met a cologne he didn’t like.”

I’m still laughing.

Tristan wraps his arm around me and snuggles close, hugging me tight.

I run my hand over his head, his messy, golden waves. “How is Connor like you?”

“Mm… Well, he also talks a lot. He likes to read. He’s very sarcastic.”

“Are you sarcastic?”

Tristan huffs.

“Does he have a boyfriend?”

“I mean…no. Not really.”

I try not to read too much into his hesitation, but there are still things I need to know. If I’m somehow coming between my brother and the love of his life, I’ll need to approach this situation more carefully. “So…you and Connor…”

He sighs. “I know what you’re thinking. We live together. We’re joined at the hip. How could there not be anything there…right? That’s what you’re getting at?”

I nod.

“Well, I’ve had like—this type—since I was seven. Call it an awakening if you will.”

“Since you were seven, huh?” It’s a familiar number.

“Yeah, like—I recall this backwards ball cap. A sort of brooding boyishness. A Cure t-shirt that looked like it’d seen way better days.”

“Are you describing me?”

He goes on. “Quiet. Mysterious. Not around much at all. Super cute. Older.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“You never asked one, so I’m rambling. And yes, I’m describing you and telling you how old I was when I realized I wanted to be with a man.”

“So, nothing’s ever—like neither one of you has feelings for each other? Beyond friends?”

“I won’t sit here and expect you to understand. But maybe think of Connor and me like twins. Like brothers. It’s never been sexual or romantic. On either side. We’ve talked about it. Like how it would make life easier if only…but we’re really only friends. I have my type, he’s got his—it’s not each other, but I do love him. Very, very much. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Just to make sure it’s all very clear, I ask, “So, nothing’s ever happened? Not even when you’re really drunk, or…?”