Page 41 of False Start

"My brother. Andre." I squeeze her tighter, but stay silent. "He was bipolar. For years, he went weeks, even months, without a low. Meds and therapy kept things manageable for high school and most of college."

I stop rubbing her back, stunned in place by her revelation. All this time, I thought Denise was an only child. She never mentioned any family; it was always only her girls. And now I find out she has a brother?Hada brother. I can't imagine the loss.

"But the summer before his senior year, something changed. His lows got longer and more frequent. First semester felt like one long low, complete with missing classes and self harm. His roommates tried to help out, setting alarms and showing up to walk him to class. They even called me asking what else they could do, but I had no idea," she scoffs.

"I was in college, too. I'd just started my sophomore year, and I threw myself into my classes rather than think about my brother falling apart."

She stops for a moment, staring blankly ahead as tears continue to flow. She even doesn't bother wiping them now.

"Eventually, he stopped answering everyone's calls; his roommates', mine, our parents. He stopped answering his door when anyone came by. Stopped going to classes altogether. The dean had no choice but to recommend he withdraw."

She swallows audibly.

"After he first attempted…" She looks down, unable to say the word. Hearing the pain in her voice makes my throat feel like it's closing.

"Afterwards, my parents had him involuntarily committed. Every time I visited, he looked like a zombie. Just a shell of the fun, outgoing guy I grew up with."

Another tear slides down her face, and the punch to my chest becomes a kick.

"I'm so sorry, Denise." It's not enough. It won't fix anything. But it's all I have to give her.

She sniffles again and snuggles further into me, like maybe my body can shield her from what must be a terrible memory.

"When he got out, he came home instead of going back to school, and it seemed like things were evening out. He started a new medication, and we all figured things would resolve without the stress of school." She shakes her head. "Two weeks later, he tried again.Thattime he was successful."

The last word is a whisper, and my heart actually breaks.

"How long ago did it happen?" I croak, my throat thick with emotion.

"It'll be five years in January. Don't worry," she tries to put on a breezy tone, "I go to therapy and have a blend of healthy andunhealthycoping mechanisms when this stuff gets to me. I don't really know why I'm crying like this."

"Grief is weird like that. And it doesn't surprise me that losing Cynthia in the same way stirred up those old feelings."

She sighs and settles back against me.

"I guess you're right. I just feel so stupid. Like, why can't I move past this?"

"Because he was your brother," I answer a bit too adamantly. "I don't know what I would do if I lost one of my brothers, even though they can be a pain in my ass."

The corner of her mouth tilts up, but it's not a smile. Inside of this strong, beautiful woman is a sister still grieving her brother's death. I might not have the words, but I can make her feel better. I jump up and rush to the freezer, returning with the fudge brownie ice cream and two spoons.

"Ice cream makes everything better." Her sad smile becomes a small giggle, and the vice around my heart loosens. I pull up Netflix and put on my go-to feel-good movie. "'Mortal Kombat' makes itgreat."

She smiles her first real smile since she arrived an hour ago, and I would literally trade my bonus to keep this feeling. As we settle in for a "Netflix and chill"—sans sexthis time—I stop fighting it. I'm falling for this woman.Hard.Now I just have to show her there's more between us than "friends with benefits".

Chapter eighteen

Denise

"OK,queen!"Mayashoutsat me as I enter the restaurant. She snaps a zigzag in the air to compliment my outfit as I squeeze past the host and a party still waiting on some stragglers. I tip my imaginary hat in thanks.

As one of the hottest brunch spots in the city, Mom's Kitchen and Bar is packed. I'm not a fan of the crowds, but Midtown was the best compromise between trekking all the way to Brooklyn—again!—and Maya and Tiffany coming uptown. One of these days, I'm taking them to Sylvia's so they understand there are plenty of great restaurants north of Columbus Circle.

I take my seat at our table in the corner and Tiff nods approvingly.

"You look amazing, D!"

I stand back up and do a twirl in my floral blouse and pants set from Karen Millen. I got it for a steal at a pop-up sale in Soho and the weather is finally cool enough to rock it.

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