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“Oh really…what target is that, exactly? Because I don’t remember the part of the plan where you two move in together and play house.”
I grit my teeth. “That was an unexpected detour, but it’s working perfectly. Angus is jealous as hell, Theo’s right here where I can keep an eye on her, and I didn’t hear you complaining when you were eating your sixth taco.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Reese says cheerfully. “I’m just pointing out that you’re way off the reservation. You think you’re in the middle of a carefully cultivated Sullivan plan, but this is starting to look a hell of a lot more like some bullshitIwould pull. And you know how that always ends…”
“This is nothing like one of your plans.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m completely in control.”
“Oh, okay…” Reese nods and wipes a rag around the pot. “So you and Theoweren’tgiving each other eyes all night long like she took an edible and you’re a plate of nachos.”
“We’ve been getting to know each other. We work together really well.”
“Youwork together really well?Oh Jesus, it’s worse than I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re delusional, big brother.”
Unlike most twins, Reese delights in the fact that he was born second by four whole minutes. He loves being the younger brother so he can foist anything unpleasant onto me.
But now, apparently, he’s decided it’s his turn to give advice.
“I’m delusional?” I give him a withering look. “Remind me who spent the last three months pretending to be a Centurion in the Sumatran jungle.”
“Ah,” Reese says with a maddeningly superior expression, “but the difference is,I knew I was pretending.”
“I also know I’m pretending. So does Theo. We’re not actually dating.”
“But are you fucking?” Reese cuts right to the chase.
“No, we’re not.”
Technically true but avoidant of what happened just last night.
Reese isn’t fooled. Shrewdly, he says, “Not having sex, or not messing around?”
I attack the cheese grater with the Brillo pad, tempted to do the same to my brother’s arm. It’s obviously been too long since I gave him a good, hard snakebite.
“We messed around a little bit,” I admit.
“I knew it!” Reese is insufferable when he guesses right. He digs his elbow into my ribs and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “How was it?”
I can’t smother the smile that spreads across my face.
My brother crows and punches me on the shoulder. “You dirty dog! Gettin’ freaky with Theo Mahoney?—“
“Seriously, shut up or I’ll dunk you in the dishwater.”
“Try it! I’ve been doing two hundred push-ups a day. I bet I could shot put you over the house.”
To prove it, he tries to put me in a headlock. It’s true that Reese has been working out nonstop with Hollywood’s eighth-best trainer, but I haven’t been skipping the gym. A scuffle ensues that slops dirty dishwater all over the kitchen floor while we each try to waterboard the other, ending only when we’re both soaking, Reese’s shirt is torn, and Theo is standing in the doorway, staring at us.
“What are you two doing?”
“I’m welcoming him home,” I say, still strangling Reese with my right bicep.
