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“Pfft. I’m seeing everyone.”
“That sounds,” terrible, “exciting for you. I?—"
“And I hear your fiancée is June, somebody. Didn’t you used to have a crush on someone by that name?”
How in the cocaine-fueled weekend mind of his does he remember that? “Same woman, actually.”
“Really? I’ll be damned.”
Most likely true. “I’m going to see if anyone has seen her, Cole. Excuse me?—"
“Wait, hang on. You don’t have a minute to catch up with your little brother?”
Shit. He wants money. This is awkward. To avoid eye contact, I text June while speaking to him. “I’d be happy to lend you?—"
He laughs and puts his arm around me. “What makes you think I want your money?”
“Experience.”
But he only laughs again and starts walking with his arm still around me, so I go with him. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s building up to something big, and I’m not going to like it. He corners me near the kitchen, and the caterers make a ton of noise there. Ugh. He doesn’t want anyone to hear him hit me up for money.
Cole says, “I’m not asking for a loan, Anderson. I’m done with all of that.”
“Well … good for you. Got your shit together, did you?”
“Yeah. I’ve turned over a new leaf. They told you I passed the bar, right?”
“And that you hit the top one percent of the scores, but that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t do anything with your education, Cole.”
He gives me an overly patient look. “That’s what I’m doing, Blanderson. I’m joining the family business.”
I laugh at first, unsure if he’s serious, but when he doesn’t laugh, I’m flabbergasted. “Childhood nicknames aside, are you serious?”
“I am. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
No. Good god, no. “Uh, wow. I suppose so. That’ll be,” a disaster, “great.”
He grins. “Knew you’d be on board. Can you help me convince Dad not to throw me in the mailroom?”
“You know our father. He’ll do what he wants. But he’s not going to stick his son in the mailroom.”
“Guess we’ll see.”
“Yeah, so help me find June, will you? She’s the prettiest brunette you’ve ever seen wearing a beige dress with knee boots.” Checking my phone, she hasn’t texted me back. My message isn’t even read.
He glances around the room. “Don’t see her.”
“No shit, Sherlock. She’s not a caterer. She’s a lawyer. Come on.” I drag him with me through the soiree, but he gets snagged when some of our family gushes over him. With Cole being MIA for most family gatherings, I’m not surprised.
He’s the fun one, the one everyone loves to have around for weddings and birthdays, because he’s usually tanked and eager to be the life of the party. They don’t know about his stints in rehab or the times we’ve bailed him out of trouble. We keep that sort of thing within the family. Hell, I’m sure there are times my parents have helped him I don’t know of, because the reverse is certainly true. They don’t need to know about the time in Ibiza when I had to get him out of trouble with a DJ and his drug dealer. But that’s the kind of thing you do for family.
All of that gets shoved to the side in my mind. I need to find June. My message is still unread, so I truck through the apartment fast. There’s a limited number of places she could be. When I ask, no one has seen her since we left. I shouldn’t be so worried—this is an obnoxiously safe neighborhood. In fact, part of me feels like I’m being ridiculous about it. But she hasn’t answered my text, and that’s not like her.
Did she get cold feet about us? Is there an us to have cold feet over?
Funny how insecurity creeps up at the worst imaginable times. It’s terrible to think about it, but I’d prefer she had a family emergency over breaking things off. No. That’s not true. I don’t want anyone in her family to be in any kind of trouble. But that would be easier to swallow than the idea that she just ran off. Or that my family ran her off.
She didn’t seem unnerved when we were outside, though. The kissing—that was real. So was everything in the library. There was no faking that. Maybe she’s in the library, hoping for another rendezvous in there. The thought thrills me, so I jog down that way.
