When My Ex Cheated, My Brother Confessed

The night my adopted brother, who kicked me out three years ago, flew back into the country, my cheating ex-boyfriend was clamped around my hand. A sharp shard of glass had sliced my palm open, and I hissed through my teeth as Arlan Stanford ducked his head, just like he'd done a hundred times back when we were kids. "Hold still, Aura. You've always been the biggest baby about pain. Let me see." "She doesn't look like she wants you touching her." A voice I knew all too well cut in from right behind him. Reese Calder stood a few feet away, his coat slung over one arm, his gaze pinned to our linked hands. The vintage wedding dress in the display case beside us cast a soft, dreamy glow. I stared past Arlan's shoulder at him, and for a split second, I forgot all about the stinging pain in my palm. "I thought you weren't coming back until next week?" Mrs. Calder had been the one to tell me that, after all. "Moved the date up." He strode over and flagged down a staff member who was carrying a first aid kit. Arlan didn't step aside. "I've got her, I can handle the cut just fine." Reese blocked his hand right as it was about to reach for my cuff again. "She doesn't seem to want that." I yanked my hand back while I had the chance. Reese pulled out a chair for me to sit down, then turned sideways to clear space for the staff member to work. Arlan's hand froze mid-air for a beat, his jaw tightening and his face twisting into a scowl. Tonight was the opening gala for a historic hotel here in London. I'm a costume restorer, and I'd been hired to set up the antique gown display for the event. Arlan's company was one of the event sponsors, while Reese's architecture firm had handled the hotel's full restauration project. His posting in Boston was over. Three long years. I never in a million years thought our first run-in would play out like this. When I was eighteen, my mom passed away, and her close friend Mrs. Calder took me in and put me through college. I kept my last name, Whitmore, and ended up with a foster brother everyone called by that title. Reese was five years older than me. I fell for him when I was twenty-three, and I didn't exactly do a great job of hiding it. Right before he left the country, he'd stopped me in the kitchen doorway. "Aura, this will never work between us. Don't wait for me anymore." He poured the hot soup I'd made him straight down the drain, and my heart went completely cold, dropping right into my stomach with every move he made. Having my crush laid out in the open like that, on top of the brutal blow to my pride? I wanted to crawl into a hole and vanish off the face of the earth. Now that he was sitting right next to me, I instinctively inched my knees away from him. The cotton swab brushed my cut, and I hissed and curled my fingers tight at the sharp, stinging pain. He noticed the wince on my face and eased up on the pressure as he dabbed the medicine on. Arlan grabbed my bag, his voice tight with urgency. "I'll drive you home once they're done patching you up." "No need." I kept my tone flat and distant. He softened his voice, coaxing. "Aura, don't turn down this tiny favor just because you're mad at me." He'd always been this gentle. He'd pull out my chair on dates, remember exactly which days I had to work late, and even when we disagreed, he'd listen to me out patiently. In three whole years together, we barely ever fought. I'd thought I'd found my perfect boyfriend. Until three months ago, when I walked in on him kissing a female coworker in his car. When he pulled back, he brushed a strand of hair that was stuck in her scarf away from her face. He'd done the exact same thing for me that very morning. He admitted they'd been seeing each other for three weeks. It took me forever to accept that someone so seemingly perfect would cheat on me. Finally, I steeled myself and broke up with him. "Hand me the bag," Reese said. But Arlan jerked the bag behind his back. "We just had a fight. I need to talk to her alone." "We broke up," I said flatly, no room for argument. Reese glanced over at me, a sharp glint flaring in his eyes. He didn't pull his outstretched hand back, his voice taking on a sharper, firmer edge. "The bag." Arlan finally handed it over. Reese placed it right in the palm of my uninjured hand. "I'll drive you home?" I was dying to get away from Arlan's suffocating pestering, so I nodded right away. In the parking garage, Arlan hurried after us, holding up the toolbox I'd left behind. "Her street's under construction, you have to take the back entrance. And she hates it when the car's too cold." "I know." I had no clue why he said that. We'd barely exchanged more than a handful of words in the past three years, for crying out loud. Reese took the toolbox, then shut my car door for me. His movements were smooth, with a faint, uncharacteristic lightness to them, like he was in a far better mood than I expected. We pulled out of the garage, and I noticed he'd already turned the AC up. He passed me a bottle of water with the cap already loosened. I reached out to take it, our fingertips brushing, and both of us froze for a split second. "Thanks, brother." The faint, amused smirk on his face dropped instantly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. I shook my head slightly, figuring I must have imagined that shift in his expression. Back when I used to go out of my way to strike up conversations with him, I'd ramble about anything just to keep him talking. Now that the car was dead quiet, all I could do was stare down at the water bottle and pick at the label with my thumb. When we pulled up outside my apartment, I spoke up first. "You can drop me off here, thanks." But he carried my toolbox all the way inside my front door, his gaze flicking toward the kitchen. "Have you had dinner yet?" "I was gonna order delivery later." "You got any bread in the house?" I nodded. He slung his coat over the back of a dining chair. "I'll fix you something to eat." I froze in the doorway, not moving an inch. He turned back. "Something wrong?" "Nothing." I stepped aside, fingers twisting the edge of my shirt, my stomach churning with a mess of conflicting feelings. 'He was just looking out for me for the sake of his mother', I mentally warned myself. 'Don't go reading into this.'