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But it’s easy to forget that feel-good love stories have their own special hold on people looking for a little hope in a dark world. If they can’t find their own happiness, they’re content to gaze longingly at others’.
Even I know that.
I never expected to be starring in a feel-good story.
I just wish it wasn’t one big lie.
Regardless, Rick parks and lets us out.
Elle seems more comfortable slipping her arm into mine today as we head for the lobby. We catch Deb just as she heads for the elevator, her hair swinging in a slick tail.
She stops in the middle of the lobby with a sharp clank of her heels and stares at me.
“... you. I. What.” Debra blinks repeatedly. “You’re not turning to ash in the sun.”
Elle snickers, then quickly covers her mouth. I eye them both.
“You’re not funny.”
“And you’re not my brother, if you’re awake this early.” Debra grins, sauntering closer, and flashes Elle a wink. “You stuck around, eh?”
Elle laughs and beams at Debra. “I do try to finish what I start.”
Next thing I know, my sister’s stolen my fiancée and dragged her away, leaning down to whisper in her ear—pointedly loud enough for me to hear.
“Listen. If you need to cut and run, I know this guy. Roland Osprey. He’s this big-time media mogul in Chicago. He could make people believe the moon is made of tin foil and glue. He can spin a story that would get you away from this monster in a second.”
“Debra, will you stop?” I fling my head back, staring up at the high arched lobby ceiling, swallowing a groan.
Goddamn, why are sisters such a torment?
Elle laughs. “I’m fine. I’m not here against my will.” She squeezes Debra’s hand. “It’ll be okay. I’m just doing a favor for a friend, that’s all.”
That gives me pause.
Are we friends?
Just friends?
Just fucking friends?
Even if I have no real desire for a woman turning my life upside down and ruining everything, I suppose I could use that.
I could accept a friend—if only she didn’t have to look like her.
Deb looks at Elle like she’s just found a fun new puppy. “You’re too nice to put up with my brother’s crap.”
She isn’t wrong about that.
“If you’re done harassing my fiancée,” I say through my teeth, offering Elle my hand, “I’m taking her to see Aunt Clara before my meeting.”
“Oh, your meeting’s off the calendar,” Debra answers.
“Sullivan canceled?”
“Maybe she chickened out.” Deb shrugs. “Or she’s got something else up her sleeve.”
“We’ll find out later. For now”—I incline my head toward the back of the lobby floor—“I believe someone wants to meet her childhood hero.”
