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The first night I’d met Jackson, he had been changing into one of Jacob’s tuxes. His new home gym had paid off in new muscle but had cost him money by rendering his wardrobe useless, too narrow for his new form. Luckily, he had, at his mother’s request, kept all of Jacob’s old tuxes.
“He doesn’t need them where he is,” Jackson had explained to me with a laugh.
“And where is he?”
“Australia, Morocco. He’s somewhere new every year but wherever he is, it’s definitely not New York, and he’s definitely not wearing a tux.”
Jackson was decidedly quiet about Jacob, so my knowledge of him was paltry. But over the years, I’d picked up more bits and pieces of information. He was in architecture and real estate, or something like that. I knew early on that Jacob had taken their father’s death particularly hard. He disliked the fact that his mother remarried so quickly and clashed instantly with their troubled stepsister, Audra. Jackson had also implied on a few occasions that Jacob had left at a disastrous time – a time when he had needed him most. But whenever I inquired about what he had needed him for, darkness clouded Jackson’s face and he reverted to the same reply every time: “He was my best friend for twenty years. I just wanted him around.”
It was too simple of an answer and I knew that there was much more to the story. But since meeting Jackson, neither Jacob nor Audra were very present in his life, so I didn’t ask. It was an obvious sore subject that reminded me of how I’d grown up hating my neighbors’ questions about where on Earth my sister had gone, so I kept my mouth shut. I was just happy to know that every once in awhile, Jackson went to visit Jacob in whichever exotic city he was living in, and that he always came back on a high, rambling on and on about Jacob’s boat and whatever water sports they’d done.
But every time, he’d go back to being quiet about him within days. “Please just drop it, Lara. It’s not going to happen,” he’d say whenever I asked if Jacob might visit New York next time around. It broke my heart. In our four years together, I started regarding Jacob Kinsley as a myth. A legend. Something I’d never live to see.
So it was a miracle for me to get into the car and hear the words, “We’re meeting Jacob for lunch. He flew into LaGuardia this morning.”
I smacked Jackson playfully on the arm. “Are you looking out the window to hide your excitement, you nerd?” I asked. I didn’t care that we’d been fighting just this morning. Jacob’s return called for all-around forgiveness so we could sooner celebrate the occasion. “Jackson! Stop pretending that you aren’t happy right now.”
“Lara,” his voice came back at me sternly. But when I leaned forward to look at him, I caught his smile. “Stop it,” he laughed when I gasped and cupped his jaw, facing him to me.
“Oh my God. You are so excited, Jackson Kinsley.”
He rolled his eyes, trying but failing to bite back a grin. “Yes, I’m very excited, Lara. Will you let go of my face now?”
I planted a big kiss on Jackson’s lips before letting him go. But I couldn’t help the big, dork grin on my face. We’d had a rough start on the morning but now I couldn’t be happier. Jacob’s arrival had given us reason to cheer about something. Together. It was a brief return to normalcy and I loved it. I was so ecstatic I actually bounced in my seat.
If only I knew that my joy would quickly come crashing down – harder than anything I’d ever felt in my life.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mr. Kinsley, we’ve already seated your guest at your table,” the bow-tied host at Broome Street Kitchen presented a dazzling smile before whisking us to our usual booth overlooking West Broadway.
The blood drained from my face when I saw who was already seated there.
Please, God, be kidding.
It was Max.
r /> Greek god Max. Max from the bar in DUMBO. The apartment in DUMBO. I froze behind Jackson, my stomach turning so violently that I almost buckled over. I gripped the edge of an empty table as I tried to compose myself, feeling the concerned eyes a couple passing servers.
But I was reeling. Seated where my fiancé’s brother was supposed to be was the man who had fucked me on his floor less than twelve hours ago.
I white-knuckled the polished wood when his green eyes found me. I thanked God for the manager who swooped in to greet Jackson as his brother nearly dropped his Manhattan into his lap. Mouth parted, he stared at me.
I wanted to turn and run. How was this possible? I had seen pictures of Jacob Kinsley before. They were from his college days but wouldn’t I have recognized him still? He resembled Jackson. Their coloring was different – Jackson’s eyes were blue, not green and his hair blonde, not brown. But they did look like brothers.
“Babe,” Jackson called to me once he was done chatting with the manager. “What are you doing?”
“I – I tripped on a,” I looked down at my clear path, “thing.”
“Well, stop tripping on things and come here.”
I did as I was told, willing my heeled feet to move. My heart thumped when I caught Max – no, Jacob – looking down at my bare legs for a second before angrily ripping his eyes away, instead digging his stare into the table and pressing the end of his fist to his mouth. He looked angry and suddenly, so was I. If you had just told me your real name and shaved your beard before today, I would’ve known it was you, I decided as I approached the table.
“Alright, well since this moment is long past due,” Jackson started. True excitement stretched his lips as he gestured at the man who still had my panties from last night. “Lara, this is my brother, Jake. Jake, this is my fiancé, Lara.”
My gaze turned stiffly to Jake and I watched in slow motion as his expression went from contained fury to something passably cordial. He held out his hand – the hand that had brought me to orgasm last night on his stairs. “So nice to finally meet you, Lara,” Jake said, his cold eyes discordant with the friendly tone of his voice. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I turned on my gala charm. “All good things I hope,” I flashed a winning smile as I shook his hand. The sensation of our skin-on-skin made my knees feel weak.
