Page 18 of Lovers Like Us
“And die,” Donnellyadds.
“Painfully,” Farrowfinishes.
“Funny,” I mutter and notice Jane and her pissed off face: brows pinched, lips pursed, not as terrifying as she wishes she could be. “Janie can tell you where he falls on the asshole range. She knows him better thanme.”
“He’s a likable asshole,” Jane announces without a beat, fierce blue eyes pinging to everyone. “He’s only treated me with respect. For the sake of my future orgasms, leave himbe.”
Donnelly smirks. “Farrow knows a little something about protecting andservingorgas—”
“No.” Thatcher shuts thatdown.
Christ, my neck is burning. I’m not embarrassed. No—that’s not a feeling I feel often, and I’m not letting it creep intome.
Farrow studies my reaction, and I try to recover with a sip of nonexistenttea.
Yeah, my mug isempty.
He’s near-laughter.
I’d combat him, but Thatcher speaks. “Back to the main issues.” He focuses on Jane. “About yourcats—”
“I’ve taken care of them,” Jane begins with urgency. No emotion attached. Like she’s discussing bus mileage and the trip route. “My sister already agreed to watch all six while I’m gone. My oldest cats and youngest kittens loveAudrey, and she loves them fiercely. It all works outwell.”
My brows scrunch. “It’sfourmonths, Janie.” She’s never been away from her cats for thatlong.
“They’re in goodhands.”
Thatcher types on his phone. Taking notes. “How’s Licoricedoing?”
Jane almost blushes. “Um,” she says, frazzled by the question. “Still skittish from being stuck in the crawl space, but I’m glad you foundhim.”
“Me too.” Thatcher checks notes on his phone. “The tour should help with the incestrumor.”
Jane clears her throat. “I propose we ban that word.” She meansincest.
I grimace. “I secondthat.”
Heavy silence falls, and Thatcher pockets his phone before looking to Jane, then me. “I don’t know if it’ll mean anything to you two,” he tells us, “but I understand what you’re going through. Years ago, when I was in high school, Banks and I got the gamut of twin questions. Most were harmless but others…” He trails off, and we can easily fill in theblanks.
Banks Moretti is his identical twin, and also the 24/7 bodyguard toXander.
Beckett nods strongly, also a twin. Alsounderstanding.
Jane and I don’t have to ask for examples or specifics. I stare off for a second—for Christ’s sake, I should’ve realized sooner why Charlie would be at the lake house insupport.
Why he’d understand like Thatcher and Banks. LikeBeckett.
With zero evidence, the media tried to twist my close friendship with Jane into something perverse. But Charlie dealt with that all the timetoo.
I was there in high school. I heard guys ask Charlie harmless questions likecan you read your twin’s mindand then they’d veer into shitty things likedo you sleep with your twin?They’d snicker as they proddedhow many three-ways have you had with Beckett?And weird shit likeif you’re naked, are you confused about who’s who? Have you touched eachother’s…?
Charlie would wear his annoyance. I remember that and how he’d just walk away. Move on. That’s all he coulddo.
And I know that’s all we can donow.
“Merci,” Jane says toThatcher.
I nod, appreciative of the support. The rumor will die sooner or later. It has no merit or validity, so I think we’ll befine.
