Page 87 of Playing Pretend

My cell vibrates on the coffee table, and I lean forward on the sofa to scoop it up.

Rett:Are you joining me tonight? I need a drink and I refuse to do it alone.

Alone? Rome stayed away because of me?

My heart sinks. After years of the same routine, I’d wondered if he’d consider tonight as an opportunity to reconcile.

I guess not.

I push to my feet and walk across the living room to the glass doors leading outside, subtly parting the curtains an inch. The upstairs balcony is empty. No lights. No voices. No sign of the comradery that has been a staple in our lives.

Piper:Where’s Rome?

Rett:Not coming.

This is what I didn’t want to happen. Not only were Rome and I torn apart by my inability to resist temptation, but now Rett is an innocent part of the wreckage.

Piper:Why?

Rett:You tell me.

A knock sounds at my door, the harsh sound increasing my pulse.

It has to be Rome. Apart from Rett, nobody else comes here. I don’t tend to broadcast how I’m still living at my brother’s house, and I never invite guests around.

The knock sounds again. Harder.

Shit.

I’m not ready to see him. I need to plan my apology. To make viable excuses that don’t make it obvious I’m in love with him.

I suck in a breath and walk to the entry, my throat tightening when I open the door only to find Rett standing before me in his business suit.

“You look like shit.” He frowns.

“It’s lovely to see you, too,” I grate. “Why were you messaging me from my doorstep?”

“Because I was waiting for you to tell me you were sick or already in your pajamas. I wanted to catch you in a lie.”

“You’re an idiot.” I step back, giving him room to enter. “What do you want?”

“A position on theForbeslist and a VP of Marketing who’d actually do their fucking job.”

“Fromme, Rett.” I slam the door and follow him into my tiny living room. “Why are you here?”

He turns on the heel of his polished loafers to face me. “Tell me what happened last weekend.”

I stiffen. “I already did. I called you twice while I was there, remember?”

“You said he kissed you. That Rome was pushing boundaries. But whatever went down was more than that if you two aren’t talking.”

I swallow, biding my time, trying to read his expression to see if he’s actually clueless or if all he wants is to get me to talk. “I’m sure Rome already told you.”

“He hasn’t said shit.”

“Liar. He doesn’t know how to keep quiet. Not with you.” Especially not when it comes to explicit encounters. I’m sure my brother has the inside scoop on every sordid tidbit of our time away. “Rome wouldn’t be able to walk past you once without spilling the details, let alone for five days spent in the same office.”

“Then I guess it makes sense that he hasn’t been at work since last week. He made up some excuse about working from home because a water pipe burst and needed emergency repairs.” He shoots me an incredulous look. “Do you know how many plumbers we work with who could gut an entire house and have new pipes laid in less time than it’s taken to fix his so-called one-pipe emergency?”

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