: Chapter 11

The apartment is quiet. Breaker is still in bed sleeping while I sit on his couch, coffee in hand, staring out the window at the view, the same view I have from my apartment. Yet, I feel more comfortable here.

More at home.

It’s why I wanted to come over last night. I felt so out of control, and I needed that comfort.

And that’s exactly what I got.

Despite our fight this week and things being awkward between us—that whole “I stubbed my toe” thing was really weird—I can still rely on him. He held me last night, told me how much he appreciated me, and didn’t let me feel lonely for even a second.

I take a sip of my coffee and then glance down at my list. With my mind racing, I woke up early, came out here, and started writing down the things I wanted to do before I got married.

I wanted to be thoughtful in my check-off list, not just write things down to write them down. So I’ve narrowed it down to five items.

Do something that makes me feel pretty.

Create a circle of trust.

Spend a day saying yes.

Stand up for myself.

Follow my heart.

I stare down at the list, a large smile on my face as I realize this is exactly what I need to get out of this rut, this dark pit I feel like I’ve been sinking into. And I already have some ideas on how to check these off.

“What do you think, Mom and Dad?” I whisper. “Think this is a way to jumpstart my life again?”

A warm sense of comfort rushes through me. It might all be in my head, but I almost feel like I can sense their approval.

“Good morning,” Breaker says as he steps into the living room, scratching his chest and looking like he needs at least two more hours of sleep. “How long have you been up?”

“About an hour. There’s coffee warming if you want some. The raspberry kind of course.”

“As if you need to say anything, I could smell it from the bedroom.” He stumbles over to the kitchen, his feet scraping against the tile as he makes it to the coffee pot and pulls down the Jack Skellington mug I got him one year for Christmas. It was one of his favorite movies growing up. Since buying presents for a billionaire is incredibly hard, I decided to go the sentimental route. He uses it often. Once he pours his coffee, he turns toward me and nods at my paper and pen. “What are you writing?”

“The next greatest novel. It’s about a dragon who slays . . . on the dance floor and out on the battlefield.”

He sips his coffee and then says, “Does the dragon dress in drag?”

“Obviously.”

“I’d read the hell out of that, especially if it’s as riveting as Lovers, Not Brothers.” He walks over to where I’m sitting on the couch and takes a seat as well. “Does your dragon have a name?”

“Anita Sparkle Claw,” I answer.

“She sounds feisty.”

“With one touch of her talon, you’re transported into ye old ages full of glitter battles and fleshy sword fights.”

He chuckles. “Fleshy sword fights, huh? I like the sound of that. Very intriguing.”

“I’ll be sure to send you the rough draft.”

With a smile over the lip of his coffee mug, he nudges my leg and says, “Seriously, what are you writing?”

“A list.”

He circles his hand. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about how I haven’t been feeling right and, to get myself out of this rut, I came up with a list of things to do before I get married.”

“Like a bucket list?”

“Yes, but this could be called the knot list.”

“Knot list?” he asks, his eyebrow lifting in that cute way of his.

“You know, instead of kicking the bucket, I’m tying the knot.”

“Aah, I’m following you. Okay, so what’s on your list?” I hand it over to him, and I watch as he reads it over, slowly nodding. “Well, for one, you’re already pretty, so no need to worry about that.”

I roll my eyes and steal the list from him. “I want to do something that makes me feel pretty. Something different, and I have an idea. Want to go with me?”

“Go with you where?”

“To check off the first item on my list. I want to go today. Get this ball rolling.”

“Oh,” he says and then winces. “I, uh, I have that date with Birdy today.”

“I forgot about that.” I glance to the side, disappointment heavy in my shoulders. “That’s okay. I can do this by myself.” I flash my eyes up to him. “But some of these I’m going to need a cohort in. I won’t do it alone.”

“Any other day, I’m free,” he says. “I’m there for you.”

“Thank you.” I smile and bring my knees into my chest.

“Care to tell me what the thing is that you’re doing today?”

I shake my head. “No, I want it to be a surprise.”

“Okay.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “And what about this circle of trust? Am I in it?”

“You’re the core of it.”

That makes him smile. “Good. Just checking.” He glances around and asks, “So did you get breakfast, or am I supposed to house you and feed you?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He sighs and stands from the couch. “What’s it going to be? Waffles? Pancakes? Omelets?”

“The pickle special, please.”

He glances over his shoulder. “If it’s going to be the pickle special, then you better get your little behind in here and help.”

“But I’m emotionally spent,” I playfully whine.

“Not an excuse. Get in here, now.”

“Fine,” I answer, exasperated.

“SO ARE YOU NERVOUS?” I ask Breaker as I sit on his bed, cross-legged, drinking my third cup of coffee this morning.

“Nervous about what?” he asks as he sifts through his dresser for clothes. Fresh from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, he still has droplets of water cascading over his skin from places he missed while drying.

I watch his finely tuned back muscles flex, the corded sinew on either side of his spine when he moves to the right and when he moves to the left. When he stands with a T-shirt and shorts in hand, I catch the way his towel conforms to his butt, giving me the smallest glimpse of his glutes and the hard work he puts in at the gym. And when he turns around, I avert my eyes because there’s something about his chest, the thickness of his pecs, and the carved divots of his abdomen that make me blush.

Staring down at my coffee cup, I say, “Nervous about your date with Birdy.”

“No,” he says confidently.

“Not even a little?”

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

“Well, she did make it quite clear that you two were having a good time. She said you were a really good kisser.”

“That’s because I am,” he says, then smirks at me.

I roll my eyes. “Humble much?”

“Never.”

He disappears into his bathroom, and I call out, “Are you doing anything tonight? I was hoping we could play Plunder or Codenames. But I can find something else to do if you plan on carrying your date later into the night.”

He pops out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and a black T-shirt. Funny that he took so long searching through his dresser for that outfit. It’s as plain as plain can get.

“I’ll let you know,” he says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed with a pair of black socks.

“Are your panties black too?”

“Don’t call them panties.” I laugh as he continues. “And you know they’re black. How could you forget after that one night you were so wasted, you wore them over your head and passed out.”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“You brought up underwear. Therefore, I wanted to bring up one of my favorite memories of you.”

“That’s one of your favorites? Wow, you really need to reconsider your memories.”

He turns toward me, and I get a whiff of his cologne—fresh and bright—which makes me want to sink my nose into his chest. “If we’re talking favorite memories, I think yesterday a core one hit me hard in the chest. Wasn’t expecting it.”

His voice grows serious, so I know what he’s about to say is not a joke. “What was it?” I ask.

His eyes lift, and he says, “Seeing you in that wedding dress. You seriously took my breath away, Lia.”

My cheeks heat as I bring my coffee cup to my lips. “Thank you.” And then, because the moment is so serious, I say, “Do you know what my favorite memory of you is?”

“The time I misspelled pickle while playing Scrabble so you could forever have a nickname for me?”

I chuckle. “No, but that’s up there.” I push a strand of hair out of my face. “The day you graduated. I can still see the exuberant hug you gave your brothers while you were in your cap and gown. It was so beautiful to see brothers that connected to each other, that supportive. It made me love you that much more.”

He smiles. “I’ve been very lucky in the brother department, even though they can be pains and they ditch me for their wives now.”

“Can you blame them? Have you seen their wives?”

He laughs. “Yeah, I have, and the fact that they got married so close together doesn’t really help me because they’re both still honeymooning.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll be honeymooning for a while.”

He drags his hand over his scruffy jaw. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be doing the honeymooning pretty quickly as well.”

I shrug. “Probably not as long. Brian is not that obsessed with me. I’m guessing he’ll be the guy who brings work on his honeymoon.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. When I glance at Breaker, his brow is furrowed, and I can tell he wants to say something. “Who knows, though,” I continue. “He can be very attentive at times.”

Breaker stands from the bed and stretches his arms over his head, revealing a patch of skin right above the waistband of his shorts. “If it were me, I’d spend a great deal of time honeymooning.” His eyes connect with mine. “No way would I let you out of my sight.” My cheeks flame, and he quickly realizes what he said so he adjusts. “I mean, my girl. No way would I let my girl out of my sight.”

And I believe that to the fullest.

There was only one time I ever heard Breaker have sex, and he must have forgotten I was home, but I can still remember like it was yesterday. The girl wasn’t obnoxious at all. She actually sounded sweet—if that isn’t weird to say—but it was Breaker’s dirty mouth that I can still hear, deep and sultry, telling her how he was going to fuck her and for how long. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, completely unexpected, and it took me a day or two to be able to look at him normally again.

If he was honeymooning, I have no doubt that he would be rabid about it, even though he gives off nice-guy vibes. He gets along with just about everyone. He is possessive, protective, charming,

just like his brothers. No word of a lie. I have envied Lottie and Kelsey a few times. Brian always seems happy to see me, but he’s never particularly . . . ravenous. There have been times I’ve felt more appreciated, like a fine wine rather than defiled. And I know Lottie and Kelsey have been defiled many, many times by their Cane husbands. And Breaker would be no exception.

“Well, your girl would be very lucky,” I say, trying to break the tension that immediately filled the room. “I just don’t think Brian is that kind of guy. We barely have sex now as it is.”

That makes Breaker pause and then slowly turn to me. “What?” he asks.

Oh crap.

“Uh, I don’t know why I said that,” I say awkwardly.

“Is it true?”

I can’t look him in the eyes when I answer, “Brian just has a lot going on, and I have to respect that.”

“Fuck that,” Breaker says, growing angry. “He should be fucking you every chance he gets. He should appreciate the fact that he gets to be with you. That he gets to pleasure you. It shouldn’t even be a question about whether or not you’re fucking at night. He should want you every goddamn second of every goddamn hour. And if he’s not pleasuring you the way he should, then that’s something you need to discuss.”

“He’s been tired, Breaker.”

“That’s no goddamn excuse.” He pushes away from the bed and grips his hair. “Fuck, if you were my fiancée, my wife, I’d never let you leave the bedroom. Your voice would be hoarse from every fucking orgasm I gave you.”

Once again, my cheeks flame and my stomach twists with uncertainty, heat, and this weird, bubbly, airless feeling as I stare up at him. And when his eyes meet mine, I wait for him to change his wording again, but he doesn’t.

“Anyway . . .” He blows out a heavy breath. “I should get going. Feel free to stay as long as you want.”

“Okay,” I answer awkwardly. “Have fun on your hike.”

“Thanks.” He makes it to his bedroom door and then glances over his shoulder. “Can’t wait to see what you do today. Love you, Lia.”

“L-love you,” I say, stuttering over the words, not because I’ve never said them to him before, but because of the way his eyes penetrate me when he says it, like he’s trying to convey something. Like he’s trying to tell me something else, something deeper, but before I can decipher exactly what it is, he’s heading toward the living room and then out his door. To his date. With Birdy.

I set my coffee mug on the nightstand and flop back on the bed.

What the hell was that all about?