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“So you live with your grandmother,” Brendan said, taking a long pull at the beer. “Why?”
Sonia shrugged. “Reasons. She moved to DC in the eighties to teach literature at Georgetown University. She’s owned this house forever. I don’t blame her for staying; it’s a great house. But it’s big, and she’s lonely here. I knew if I started a dance company, I’d be making zero dollars, and she invited me to live with her in exchange for conversation and cooking. She hates to cook. She had a pretty bad fall last year, too. She refuses to ask for help, but I feel better knowing I’m around to keep an eye on her.”
Brendan leaned back in his chair and grinned, folding his arms.
“What?” Sonia’s brows knit together. When he didn’t answer, she leaned forward. “What?”
“Look at you,” he chuckled. “Such a softy.”
“I’m not.”
“You just want to take care of your grandma. How sweet is that?”
“Brendan, I swear…”
“You’re a marshmallow.” He wagged his finger at her. “NowI know what makes you tick. Under all those prickles, you’re just a great big puddle of goo.”
“You really do disgust me,” Sonia huffed. When the teakettle whistled, she sprang from her chair and turned off the stove. The crimson robe swirled around her calves.
“Hey, I get it. You and your grandma are two peas in a pod.” Brendan pulled at the waistband of his boxers, letting it snap back. “If you’d told me she was coming home, I would’ve left these off. Given her more of an eyeful. I bet she would have enjoyed the show.”
Sonia snorted with laughter. “She probably would have. Why’d you ask you me about cooking when you had me pinned to the fridge?”
Brendan blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything home-cooked. Your fridge looked good, that’s all.”
“Hmmm.” Sonia tilted her head, studying him. Then, taking a mug from a cupboard, she filled it with boiling water. “What else can’t you do in public? Or in people’s backyards?”
“I just need to behave myself.” Brendan took a swig of beer. “Which, when you’re not around, is easy.”
Sonia dunked a tea bag in her mug and dropped into her chair. “Has it always been easy? To behave yourself?”
Sighing, he took another sip of beer. “Define easy.”
“Was iteasyto let Ian play the bad twin all those years?”
So she knew about that. “Sonia…”
“Just kidding.” She gave him a tiny smile.
He should let it go; she was offering him an out. He swirled the beer in its bottle. “I don’t think you are.”
Sonia curled her fingers around her mug. “Okay, fine. From what I’ve heard, you didn’t just let him play that part. You pressured him to do it. And I love Ian, all right? He’s one of the few decent men I know. Why did you do that to him?”
Brendan’s face burned. He wanted Sonia to think he was a decent man, too. When he wasn’t letting out all his dark, hidden urges with her. Or, fuck it, even when he was.
“Is that why you never liked me?” he asked quietly.
“It’s part of it. Your fakeness was the rest.” Sonia rubbed her knuckles against her cheek, looking a little awkward. She took a quick drink of tea.
Brendan shook his head. “Sonia, I don’t deny my share of the blame, but for a long time, I thought Ian was fine with it. We were kids; we thought it was funny. Good twin, bad twin, switching places, swapping reps. Sure, I benefitted, but so did he. Besides, we don’t do that anymore.” A thought hit him. “Did he complain to you?”
Sonia leaned back. When she crossed her legs, the robe fell open to expose her thighs.
“Ian would never say a word against you. Di’s said things, though. She has the same view that you do — it’s done, it’s in the past. But the truth is, Ian’s still carrying that reputation around. It’s not always easy to shake off people’s expectations.” A shadow crossed Sonia’s face.
Brendan set the beer down with a clink. “Look, it was a stupid game that affected both of us. What do you want me to say? Ian and I dealt with it. He’s moved on. He’s marrying the girl of his dreams, has the job he wants—”
“What about you?” Sonia asked softly.
