“Not the same thing.”
She shrugged then took a drink.
“I’m surprised you’re pushing for him when he lied to me. I mean, I’m your sister.” Shouldn’t she be pissed off like an angry mob? Shouldn’t she want to knee him in the balls?
“I’m not saying what he did was okay, but I get where he’s coming from. It would get old trying to find someone to be with when your wealth is always the main focus of conversation. He could date women just as wealthy, but I imagine they’re snobby and lazy. No, he shouldn’t have lied as long as he did, but…” She shrugged. “He still seems like a sweetheart to me.”
“He is.” The comment was automatic because those feelings were undeniable. He’d always been good to me, protective in the alleyway and on the court, and supportive of my ambitions.
“Charlie is a sweetheart too, and those kinds of men don’t grow on trees.” She picked up her glass and brought it to her lips for a drink, her eyes scanning the bar.
I stared at her with my fingers wrapped around my glass, trying to read her body language, dissect the casual words that came out of her mouth. I wanted to shut my mouth and keep my distance because getting involved would no longer make me Switzerland, but the curiosity was too much. “You got a thing for Charlie?”
She turned back to me. “All I said was he’s a sweetheart.”
My eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer the question.”
She rolled her eyes. “Saying a guy is a sweetheart doesn’t mean—”
“Bitch, just answer the question.”
She suppressed the smile on her lips, her eyes playful, just the way they used to be when we were kids. I could read her so well because I’d spent a lifetime doing it. The corner of her mouth lifted when she lied. “I may find him easy on the eyes…”
So, my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
“Come on, watching a bunch of hot, shirtless guys play basketball is kinda irresistible.”
“But Charlie is the only one you noticed.”
“Well…look at him. He’s fitter than an ox. How do you live with him and not hook up all the time?” She turned back to me. “Do you?”
“God, no.” I held up my hand. I stuck out my tongue because the thought was truly disgusting. “Ew. Just ew.”
“Ew? How can that possibly gross you out?”
“He’s like a brother to me.”
She shook her head. “But the very first moment you met him, you must have found him attractive.”
“Eh. I’m not into blonds.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks…”
“I’m just saying, I prefer men who are a little darker.”
“Like Dax.”
“Exactly.” Man, he was hot. “So, if you’re into Charlie, are you going to go for it?”
“What?” she asked incredulously. “Are you crazy?”
“Why is that crazy?”
“Uh, hello? Kat?”
Trust me, I hadn’t forgotten about her.
“I know she’s more your friend than mine, but I would never do that to her. She’s still hung up on him. That would be so terrible to break her already-broken heart like that.”
I appreciated the sensitivity. But now I knew they both wanted the other…and they couldn’t be together.
“Besides, Charlie might not even see me that way. If he sees you like a sister, he might see me the same way.”
I had to hold back my chuckle so it wouldn’t fly out of my mouth. Wow, my sister was oblivious. How did she not see the way Charlie stared at her pretty much every second they were together? “How long have you felt this way?”
“Only recently. That basketball game really had an impact.”
It had been smart of Charlie to invite her.
“I thought maybe we could just hook up. You know, a one-time thing, but if Kat ever found out…that would be bad. And just getting into bed with him is a betrayal and would put you in a difficult situation.”
I was already in a difficult situation.
“So, I should just forget about it. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, right? Dax is pretty hot, so maybe—”
“Uh, excuse me?” I snapped. “Bitch, he’s off-limits.”
She grinned. “Yeah?”
“I just mean, because he’s technically my ex.”
“Sure, Carson. Whatever you say.”
Charlie was making dinner when I walked inside. “Hungry?”
“Come on, are we really going to do this?”
He shook his head and kept cooking.
I sat at the kitchen table and scrolled through my phone as I waited for my personal chef to deliver my meal. We had a nice setup. I paid for all the groceries, and he did all the cooking.
He set the grilled chicken with rice and vegetables in front of me. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing.”
He sat down and slid a fork toward me. He started to read his phone, elbows on the table and his body hovering over his food.
I stared at him as I ate, unsure what to do. If I told Charlie what Denise told me, what would happen? Would he leave the apartment and head to her place right now? Would they shack up right away? Why did I have to be in the middle of this?
“You’re quiet.”
“Just tired.”
“You’re never tired.”
“Come on, that’s impossible.”
“Well, you’re never tired when you eat.”
I continued to stab the fork into the meat and vegetables, placing each bite into my mouth.
Charlie lifted his head and stared at me.
“What?”
“You’re being weird.”
“No, you’re being weird. Who says someone’s being weird?”
“Whatever.” He turned back to his food.
I ate in silence, wishing I could talk to him about my dilemma. He was my best friend, the person I talked to about everything…but now, I couldn’t say a word to him.
Dax was busy at the office all week, so his only availability was Saturday. He told me to meet him at his place and we would drive together. He texted me the address, and I walked a few blocks until I made it to Fifth Avenue…where all the fancy-pants people lived.
I checked in with the bellman and then the security guard before I was allowed into the elevator. It rose up the building then came to a gentle stop before the doors slid open and revealed a gorgeous living room with fresh flowers in vases, interesting paintings hanging around the space, a massive TV on the wall with enough couches to seat twelve people comfortably.
He really was a billionaire.
I stepped inside and heard the doors shut behind me.
He was nowhere in sight. “Uh…hello?” The backdrop of the living room was floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a gorgeous view of Central Park. There was a large dining table that could fit ten guests. He also had a full kitchen with a large island. It was a dream house, the kind of penthouse you saw in People magazine because a famous person owned it.
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood a moment later. Dax stepped out of the hallway in jeans and a classic tee, dressed in dark colors that complemented those dark eyes and hair. His scruff was gone, so it gave him an entirely different look, a clean look. Over six feet tall with the shoulders of a soldier, he was far more beautiful than the view of the park out of his windows.