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She tilts her head. “And?”
I swallow. I’m embarrassed by what I’m about to tell her, and I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything wrong. Their the ones who should be embarrassed.
“She’s my ex. My only ex.”
Her eyes grow wide. “And here I thought I took the prize for having the worst brother ever.”
“You have a brother?” I ask, forgetting that I know she does. Not because she told me, but because I went snooping, and he’s in a lot of the photos with her and her family online.
“More like a second father, and they love to remind me how much of a disappointment I am.”
My brows pull down. How can anyone possibly think she is a disappointment? She’s smart, talented, successful, and independent. Other than moving away, I can’t imagine anything she’s done wrong.
“I’ve heard the same story before.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip. “But I’m confused. How could they possibly be disappointed in you?”
She picks at the second donut she’s put on her plate and plops a piece of it in her mouth.
“With my family, it’s all about appearances. And don’t you know, my place is married to the person they’ve chosen for me and playing for the New York Philharmonic.”
Anger pushes down on me.
“That makes no sense.” And it really doesn’t. I do understand that some people still adopt the philosophy of advantageous marriages, but her family is so wealthy. What would be the point?
She shrugs.
“It does in the world where I come from.”
We sit in silence with our thoughts while eating more donuts and drinking the coffee.
“Are you expected to go to this wedding?” she asks.
“Unfortunately.” I shake my head with disgust.
A person shouldn’t know the ins and outs of their sibling’s spouse, or what they taste like, for that matter. It’s not normal.
“I have to return to Charlotte for the engagement party in a few weeks. Don’t you know it will look bad if I’m not there?”
“Trust me, I know,” she says, studying my face.
Doing the same to her, I take in the fact that she’s not wearing any makeup. She’s got freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose, her skin looks clean and youthful, and her lips are the perfect shade of pink. Goldie in the morning, just out of bed, might be my favorite version of her.
“Do you still love her?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Hell. No.”
“How long were you with her?”
“Over three years.”
Her jaw drops just a little. “Yikes. That’s a long time. I’m surprised your brother went there.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s younger and tries every day to prove he’s better. Only he’s never seemed to realize that I’m not in competition with him.”
“Must be a miserable way to live life.”
“I don’t get it either. My mother was a very loving person. She didn’t raise us to feel slighted one way or the other by each other.”
“He’s always been this way?”
