Page 110 of The Plus One Pact

"Thanks." I don't know what to make of the interaction. I haven't felt my brother's sympathy in a long time. "It's tough. I don't want to scare her off, but, like you said, I really like her. And I, well, I haven't done this a lot. I'm not good at it."

"She seems comfortable with you," he says.

"I like to think so."

"Slow is good sometimes," he says. "Gives you more time to enjoy the early stages."

"Do you miss that?" I ask. "With Cynthia?"

"Some parts." He moves into the kitchen and starts unpacking the groceries. He's already on to a new subject. He's already accepting my explanation.

It's almost too easy.

No. It is too easy.

There's still something missing here. Something I need to handle.

What Mom said. What Ivy noticed. The simple fact I've ignored for the last decade:

My brother worries his fiancée wants me.

He's wrong.

But I can't exactly come out and say, no, you're wrong, she doesn't want me casually. That will only draw attention to the situation. Make it clear I notice her. Notice our chemistry.

"Which parts?" I ask, as I preheat the oven.

"The usual things. The mystery, the novelty, the new relationship energy. I love Cyn in a different way now. A deeper way. I wouldn't trade it for the butterflies in my stomach I felt when we were teenagers. But I miss that sometimes, too. I miss not knowing exactly what my life was going to look like."

"You do?" I ask.

"Of course."

"But you're Mr. Five Year Plan," I say.

"So, maybe I don't want the same level of excitement you do. I still want to have an adventure every now and then."

"Isn't marriage an adventure?"

"And kids will be too. That will be a lot of novelty. And Cyn will be a great mom." He smiles. "I can't wait to go on this journey with her. But that doesn't mean I don't notice the freedom you have. That doesn't mean I never wish I could take three months off to help Mama move to Italy. The way you could, if you wanted."

Is that what he expects me to do? Is that what I should do? No, Mama and I would kill each other after two months. But I can go with her for a few weeks. "Then another three to travel around Europe," I say.

He nods exactly.

"You never had a rebellious phase." I open the bag of flour and sift. "Maybe that's what we need to do tomorrow. Take you out for a wild afternoon."

"No strippers."

A laugh spills from my lips. "No. A proper Daniel sort of rebellion. A shirt that doesn't match your pants."

"A tattoo my parents would hate."

"A last hurrah," I say. "Let me plan it."

He raises a brow. "Let me think about it."

"Sure." I settle into the conversation and the task.