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He leaned forward, tangling his hands in his hair.
His brother threw the magazine back on the table without opening it. “I always knew this would happen.”
“What? Me dating a girl whose mother hired me for her divorce?”
“No. Your too-high IQ biting you in the ass.”
Andrew looked up. “Really? You haven’t given me shit about that in years.”
“That’s because your big-ass brain quit causing problems for you once you got out of school. Till now.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, but his brother leaned forward, waiting until Andrew met his gaze. “You’re smarter than me on most things,” Peter said quietly. “But you’ve got to trust me when I say I know better than you on stuff like this.”
“Stuff like what?” Andrew grumbled.
His brother grinned. “Love.”
Andrew went still, eyes narrowing on his brother, his mind automatically rejecting the word. Love was a fantasy—a culmination of the brain’s chemistry making you act crazy.
“See?” Peter pointed at him. “That right there. That’s where you’re fucking it all up. You’re thinking about it instead of simply feeling it.”
Andrew opened his mouth to argue, but he remembered Georgiana’s parting shot—that she wanted a man who could use his heart as well as his head.
He cracked his knuckles—a nervous habit he thought he’d grown out of in college.
“Can’t I do both? Think and feel?”
“You tell me.” Peter gave an indifferent shrug as he said it.
Andrew glared. “Really, big brother? This is the extent of your advice?”
> “No. But you’re not going to listen to what you really need to hear.”
“Try me.”
“Fine,” Peter said, picking up the magazine once more. “You’re not clinging to logic because it’s better, you’re clinging because it’s safer. The problem isn’t that your girl’s not thinking straight, it’s that you’re scared.”
“Bullshit. Of what?”
Peter flipped a page. “Losing her. Your big brain is worried that if you let yourself care too much, it’ll hurt more if it doesn’t work out.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve already lost her, haven’t I? With or without my big brain.”
“True. And how do you feel about that?”
Andrew opened his mouth to reply just as Pam came back into the waiting area.
Peter leapt out of his chair with surprising agility for a man of his size and went to his wife, his hands reaching for hers.
“Pam?”
Andrew stood, but averted his eyes from the intimate moment. He wanted to be here no matter which way the news went, but if it was bad news, he was prepared to give them their space.
“I’m not eligible for the treatment,” Pam said in a tiny voice.
Andrew felt his shoulders slump, saw his brother’s do the same.
Peter reached for his wife and drew her close. “Then we’ll find something else, sweetie. Another solution.”
