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“Your brother. How much older?”
“Six years.”
“Name?”
“Peter.”
“Where does he live?”
“Jersey.”
“Is he married? Do you have any nieces or nephews?”
“Yes, to Pam. They haven’t been able to conceive.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Do you see them often?”
“Christmas or Thanksgiving. Birthdays.”
“What’s Peter do?”
Andrew sighs. “He’s a mechanic. Should I get you his social security number?”
I take a sip of my champagne and consider what I’ve just learned. Unusual that one brother is a high-powered attorney in Manhattan and the other is decidedly blue-collar in New Jersey. I wonder if tha
t explains why they only see each other on the occasional holiday when they live within easy driving distance.
“Your turn,” he surprises me by asking. “Siblings?”
I shake my head. “Only child.”
“Shocker. Boyfriend?”
I narrow my eyes. “I told you the other night I wasn’t seeing anyone.”
His eyes glint with something. “Where were you yesterday morning?”
“Sleeping.”
“Alone?”
I lean forward once more. “What is it you really want to know?”
He doesn’t break eye contact. “I want to know whether my rather embarrassing gaffe the other day drove you into the arms of Brady.”
“Brody.”
His gaze sharpens, and I feel a little thrill of excitement at the thought that it might be jealousy.
“You really can’t go around calling girls brainless, Andrew,” I say, keeping my voice gentle.
“I didn’t—” He inhales. “It’s truly not what I meant to say.”
“Have you even seen The Wizard of Oz? It’s sort of what the Scarecrow’s known for.”
Before he can reply, the waitress reappears to take our order. I opt for a burger with caramelized onions and cheese; he gets a steak salad, dressing on the side.
“Do you ever let loose?” I ask. “Order french fries? Unbutton a button? Have a one-night stand?”
