Page 19 of It Must Be Fate

But seeing him now, sitting in my kitchen, his spine straight, his jaw set in a determined line, and his eyes flashing with intention, I realize that this is a man who would do anything to make my sister happy.

Maybe he’s not a lost cause after all.

I grab the salmon from the island behind me, pull out a chair opposite Thiago, and sit down.

“Well, come on then. Let’s eat. You’re married to my sister so I know she’s not feeding you. Or if she is, it’s not edible.”

“I have a chef,” he says, coming to her immediate defense as he forks a piece of salmon. “She doesn’t need to cook.”

“Of course not.”

“She’s very talented at other thin—” He cuts off abruptly after taking his first bite. Then he groans, shoving a second forkful into his mouth. “Puta madre, are you sure you two are related?”

I laugh and reach over to clap him on the back.

Our wives were right to set up this impromptu ‘playdate’, as Nera called it. There’s hope for me and my brother-in-law and I after all.

***

Two years after graduation

Chapter Six

Rhys

Cold water hits my bare back and rips me out of a particularly vivid dream I was having of Thayer running down a football pitch.

Some guys dream of their girlfriends naked, I dream of mine kicking a ball around, those long legs of hers pumping, her French braid swinging, a brilliant smile on her face. That easily beats the hottest pornos I’ve ever seen and I’m none too pleased to have been pulled out of it before I could watch her score.

“What the fuck?” I roar, whipping up into a seated position.

Next to me, Thayer is absolutely fucking drenched. Whatever water hit me, it was just cast off from what originally missed her. She sits up slowly beside me, rubbing the liquid from eyes and pushing her wet hair off her face.

“You alright, Silver?” I ask her, kissing her bare shoulder.

“Go back to sleep, Rhys,” a cold voice drawls. “This is between me and your girlfriend.”

My eyes lift to meet Rogue’s. He’s standing next to our bed, holding a now empty bucket by his side.

He and Bellamy are visiting from Chicago and have been staying with us for the past couple of weeks. Although after this Guantanamo-style wake up, he’s getting booked on the first flight back to America, the wanker.

“You’re fucking joking,” I growl. “You’re not still mad about the prank, are you? It’s beentwo years,” I point out.

“She made me think my girlfriend was cheating on me, she has to live with the consequences,” he counters.

Thayer groans and lets herself fall back against her pillows.

“Oh my god, Rogue. Ihave. I took it on the chin when you put toothpaste in the filling of my Oreos, I didn’t sayanythingwhen you signed me up for a porn addiction recovery program for fundamentalist Christians, and I smiled and waved when you played a video of me getting ready in the morning—zit cream still on and everything—on the big screen in the Arsenal stadium for tens of thousand of people to see, but this is getting ridiculous,” she cries. “You’re like an escalating serial killer. Any idea when you intend to stop this one-sided prank war?”

“When the memory of that phone call is burned out of my memory.”

“So… never?”

He gives her a thin smile. “That’s correct.”

Thayer sits back up, pointing a long finger at him. “Then I have no choice but to engage. And you’ll regret it, because I’ll involve Bellamy.”

Rogue crosses his arms over his chest, not threatened in the least. “If she’s fair game, then so is Rhys. Think of all the groupies that’ll be tickled pink at the chance to help me.”

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