Page 5 of The Love Audit
We met nearly every weekend for the last four years to play pickleball. We both had intense corporate careers, Chris as one of the most sought-after corporate litigators in New York, which left us little time for personal lives. At least, that’s the excuse I made. My brother was my role model in every way that mattered, especially since we’d both been estranged from our father for the last thirteen years. When our parents dissolved their company and their marriage fell apart, CJ was my rock.
He shielded me from a lot of the ugliness during the divorce proceedings, insisting that I focus all of my energy on college. As a result, he was the only person I could depend on, who understood what I was going through. I’d never admit this to him, but he was the man I modeled my life after.
My big brother was almost forty with no signs of intent to get married or start his own family. If he wasn’t in a rush, I figured I had plenty of time.
“She’s not little anymore,” I replied with a grunt as I dove to return his volley, but after bouncing once, it sailed past me.
“That’s game, punk.” He chuckled and grabbed his towel. “That’s two in a row. Seeing Jasmine again must have really gotten to you.” He smirked and squirted water into his mouth.
“You’re my older brother,” I quipped and threw my towel at him. “Don’t you want to congratulate me on nailing my pitch to Edward Mason and not focus on ancient history?”
“Nope.” He wrapped me up in a sweaty headlock and poked me in the abs with his pickleball paddle. “You don’t need me strokingyour ego. Plus, I’d much rather hear about what happened when you saw Jasmine after all these years. Is she still cute?”
“Cute” wasn’t a descriptor I would have used for the Jasmine I saw today. Puppies were cute. Cupcakes were cute. “Breathtakingly beautiful” would have been more appropriate, but definitely not words I would use to give CJ more ammunition.
“She looks the same.” I shrugged. “Just older, I guess.”
“You guess?” he chuckled. “So you still have that same crush on her that you always did.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Crush?” I scoffed. “Jasmine was a kid when we knew her, and the last time I saw her, she was seventeen and I was twenty-one. Are we gonna go through this again?” I made a desperate attempt to change the subject.
“The last time you saw her, you were her prom date,” he reminded me, clearly not ready to stop pulling this thread.
“After Mom called me and told me her boyfriend broke up with her two days before the prom and she wouldn’t have a date.”
“Ah, so Mom’s the reason you left school, rented a suit, and drove like a bat out of hell to attend a high school prom?” He chuckled as he retreated to his side of the court.
“I know it’s hard for you to imagine doing something nice for someone without expecting something in return, but I did it to help a family friend in need.” I gripped the ball and slapped the paddle on my thigh. “Plus, I owned the tuxedo. I wanted to get my money’s worth.”
“Whatever, son.” He crouched and slapped his paddle. “It’s your serve.”
“Nah,” I scoffed, gripping the ball a little too hard. “It’s not ‘whatever.’ I need you to say it.”
“Are you serious?”
“As cancer,” I replied, and served the ball at him as hard as I could, causing him to dive out of the way, not even trying to return it.
“Listen, you always had a soft spot for Jasmine Morgan. Not only were you two close growing up, but she’s the only girl who didn’t fall for your shy, modest, nerd routine. You were always doing stupid little things to try to impress her.”
I didn’t attempt to contradict him. Not only because he was right, but because I realized that I wasn’t as stealthy in my youthful attempts to keep my crush on Jasmine a secret as I’d previously thought. If CJ knew, I wondered if Jasmine did, too. I also wondered why that thought bothered me as much as it did.
“You and Jasmine are both adults now, and four years is not that big of an age difference.” He bounced the ball a few times before slamming it in my direction.
“Oh really?” I asked. “What age difference would qualify as appropriate?” I smirked at him as I effortlessly hit the ball back at him. He narrowed his eyes at me before missing the ball again. “How old was your date for Mom’s holiday charity gala? Was she old enough to drink?” I chuckled at him. “What’s the equation: half your age plus seven?”
“First of all, Bellamy was twenty-three,” he retorted, and I raised an eyebrow. “She was an old soul,” he continued. “And second of all, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about youand the girl you’ve been in love with for practically your whole life. And to restate my point, four years is nothing.”
“Well, it’s big enough. Plus, I’m not trying to get involved with Jasmine Morgan—or any other woman, for that matter. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way, so it’s cool.” I shrugged. “Your serve.” I wasn’t sure why it was so important for me to convince my brother that I had no interest in Jasmine Morgan, whether or not it was true.
“We’re not talking about any woman, little brother.” He turned to face me. “We’re talking aboutthewoman. If you have a chance with a woman who could make you happy, you should take it.”
“Is that advice for me or for you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure you should be giving out relationship tips?”
“Man, please, if you really thought that way you wouldn’t keep coming to me foradvice. You’re my little brother; my job is to keep you on the right track, make sure you’re doing the right thing.”
“So you’re your brother’s keeper, Nino Brown?” I laughed.
“Yeah, I am. And as your keeper, I’m telling you that you don’t want to be the old man in the club. I’m not saying it has to be Jasmine Morgan, but working eighty hours a week and coming home every night to an empty apartment ain’t it. Ask me how I know.”
