by Olivia Myers
“And I want to toast the newlyweds,” Trey boomed. “May each of your days together be filled with love and laughter.”
We all clinked glasses and sipped the champagne. I didn’t have a broad experience of the bubbly stuff, but it was delicious. Probably expensive.
Soon, we sat at a glossy dark wood table and Masha carried out a variety of cold dishes. Salads of different vegetables, a cold watermelon soup sprinkled with feta, and an orzo salad. Trey thanked Masha warmly and she patted his shoulder as she passed.
Having never had a housekeeper, I had no idea if their relationship was normal or not. She acted like a mother rather than an employee.
I avoided eye contact with Trey and only answered questions when asked. Mom occasionally glanced at me. She knew me better than anyone.
Oh no, I hope she didn’t know about me and Trey. I closed my eyes and breathed.
“Sweetie, are you okay?”
My eyes popped open. “Yes, of course.”
Mom stared at me with concern in her brown eyes. She squeezed my hand and turned back to the next course. Masha had brought out grilled steaks with chipotle butter and asparagus.
“Everything is delicious, Masha,” Mark said.
We all agreed and the housekeeper shone with pride.
Before dessert, I excused myself to use the restroom. I’d been directed down a hall opposite the windows. The walls of this hallway were decorated with African batiks, masks, and paintings. I lost myself in the beautiful objects, reminders of a life I didn’t have.
“Oh, I was planning to show you these after dinner,” Trey said. “What do you think?”
“I think they’re amazing. I guess you’ve bought them on your travels?” Is this why he really goes to Africa? Maybe he’s merely a collector. Purchased with his version of blood money. Boob and nose money.
“Some. Some of these were gifts from people I met, people I healed.” He looked at them with longing and pride. “They help get me through my life here until I can get back there again. They remind me of all the good I can do.”
Was I supposed to believe he’d rather be there working for free?
“You’d rather live in Africa?” I couldn’t keep an edge of scorn out of my voice. It was ridiculous. If it weren’t for his excessive life here, he wouldn’t be able to send our parents to Tahiti on their honeymoon or have this huge apartment.
“Sometimes. I love the city, the energy, the variety of things to do and foods to eat here. But when I’m there, I love the wide open sky and all the stars, and the variety of wildlife, and the welcoming people. Luckily, I can have both.”
Yes, he could have both, and I still couldn’t figure out what sort of man he was. Did he take advantage of all he had, or did he embrace all life had to offer? It didn’t matter. Whether he was a greedy jerk or a saint, he was still my stepbrother.
***
I barely slept that night. Memories of our night together plagued me as soon as I closed my eyes. I wanted to be able to enjoy such memories, but now they were tinged with disgust and confusion.
In the morning I dressed for school in my usual conservative way. Today meant a dark pencil skirt and a light blue silk tank. Only a few more days of school before summer vacation. I had summer fever as badly as my students.
While most of my students couldn’t afford summer camp or even travel outside the city, at least the kids would get a break from school work. At least they’d enjoy some of the usual joys of summer: playing outside until dark, flavored ices, visiting with family.
I didn’t have much to look forward to this summer. Only my regular summer job at the ice cream shop on the corner of my block and some tutoring.
The end of the school day couldn’t come fast enough. I couldn’t wait to get home and kick off my heels and make myself a gin and tonic.
A surprise awaited me on the sidewalk outside the school. A tall, handsome man in a business suit. Damn, he was hot. Everything he’d worn so far made me want to rip it right off him. How could one man look so good in so many different types of clothing? And then there was how amazingly good he looked without any clothing.
He’s your stepbrother. He’s your stepbrother. He’s your stepbrother.
“What are you doing here, Trey?”
He looked me up and down and smirked. “I like the schoolmarm look on you.”
I huffed out a breath and raced for the subway. If he was going to insult me, he could eat my dust.
“Wait, Justine, please. I’m sorry.” His rushing footsteps caught up to me. “I think you have the wrong idea about me. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“I can afford my own coffee, you know.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
I stopped walking. “Why do you care what I think?”
“Well, that’s silly. Aside from the fact we’re now family, clearly I like you.”
He liked me. My gut didn’t know whether to set off butterflies or grenades.
He ignored the Starbucks on the next corner and instead entered a local shop specializing in the old-fashioned kind of coffee. No fancy flavors, no Italian names. Coffee. I was impressed. Maybe he had ideals after all.
He led me to a booth at the back of the near-empty café, and I waited while he retrieved our drinks. He sat next to me, rather than facing me, but he seemed uncomfortable. He turned sideways to look into my eyes. “Look, Justine. I have feelings for you.”
A noise came out of my throat.
“I admit the other night started as just sex. But I really like being around you and for some reason, I really care what you think of me. In fact,” he glanced away, “I hope you think of me at all. So, I need you to know something about me.”
Emotions swirled inside me as heat burned my skin.
“You seem to believe I became a doctor to make money. I didn’t. Sure, having money is nice and lets me indulge my interests, but it’s not the reason I spent four years in medical school, plus internship, and multiple residencies and fellowships.”
He took a sip of coffee and I imitated him. The bitterness mirrored how I felt about myself.
“You probably know from your mom about my mother.”
I nodded. Mom had told me Mark’s wife died of cancer when Trey was only twelve. It was something we had in common, the loss of a parent.
“Before she died, she suggested I become a doctor. She said she wanted me to do something to help people and she saw how good I was at math and science. She thought I’d make a great doctor, and her faith in me kept me going through the tough times.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach. I’d been so unfair to only see one side of him, even though he’d let me see a different side the night we met. How could I have been so blind?
“Yeah, I like helping people feel better about themselves. Even if changing their appearance doesn’t seem very important in the larger scheme of things. But the real reason I chose plastic surgery was for the reconstructive side. In developing countries, I help burn victims and kids born disfigured. I stitch up people’s wounds so they won’t have horrible scars and be shunned from their communities. It’s hard, to see all I’ve seen. But it’s harder for them, my patients.”
He stared at his hands in his lap. I reached out and put my hand on his. “I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
My gesture seemed too small. I wanted to climb into his lap and hug him, comfort him, show him I believed in him, too.
Did I believe in him like that? Had I so completely turned around?
He looked up at me and the hurt in his eyes melted the last of my resistance. He glanced down at our joined hands in his lap, so close to his growing erection, and the side of his mouth quirked up. My breath hitched in my throat.
Memories flooded into me and collided with the images of what I hoped would follow.
It was a good thing I wasn’t sitting in his lap now, acting out some of the scenes my mind was playing for me. We’d get kicked out of thi
s joint.
“Thank you,” he said simply, humbly.
“For what?”
“For listening. For caring.”
I nodded. No matter what else happened between us, I could always listen and care.
He disentangled one of his hands from mine, and put it on my knee, bare beneath the hemline of my skirt. I glanced around the café. It was still empty, and the bored barista was absorbed with her phone. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Thanking you. Touching you,” he said. “Lean back.”
I did as I was told. As I leaned, my legs parted slightly, and he took it as an invitation. Or maybe he didn’t want an invitation. His hand traveled further up my leg. He used his other one to help hike my skirt up. At this point I was panting, and I could feel that I’d soaked my underwear just anticipating what was to come. I helped him hike my skirt up further.
He reached up with his finger until it brushed my clit. I gasped.
“Shhh,” he whispered.
The barista still hadn’t looked up. Trey moved my underwear aside and slid a finger into me. It went in easily, I was so wet. With his finger working inside me and his thumb pulsing against my clit, I was on the brink of orgasm in no time.
“I’m, I’m—” I gasped.
He leaned over me, taking my mouth in his, and swallowed my exclamation.
***
“Let me take you home,” he said once we were out on the street again.
I raised my eyebrows at him. I still felt flushed after what he’d done to me in the café. I hadn’t even known that was possible. “Are you planning to walk me all the way to Brooklyn?”
“Uh, no. I meant I could take you in a cab. Or something.”
He was cute like this, a little awkward and off-balanced. “I usually take the subway. You can just walk me to the station.”
“You think I don’t know how to use the subway? I can accompany you home on the subway. No problem.”
“You’re just trying to see where I live.” I walked away from him, laughing.
“I could ask my dad, you know.” He caught up to me and took my hand.
His touch sparked against my skin and I wanted to lean into him, breathe in his masculine scent, and lose myself in his strong arms. I wanted more of what he’d given me in the coffee shop.
“We could’ve been arrested, you know,” I said. It was hard to sound reproachful, though, when I was still trying to catch my breath.
“You liked it, though,” he said.
I couldn’t help my smile. “Maybe.”
We turned the corner and the subway entrance yawned in front of us.
“Trey?”
With one foot on the step below us, we turned toward the sound of a woman’s voice. A gorgeous, curvy woman with long, wavy blond hair towered over me. Her red dress, red nails, and four inch heels stood out from the gray buildings around us.
“Selina!” Trey released my hand and strode to the woman. He kissed her cheek. “You look amazing. How are you?”
“I’m good. I returned last week from Brazil. My father’s beach house is fantastic. I can’t wait for you to see it. When will you come down?”
I cleared my throat and didn’t care if it was rude.
Trey whirled around. “Oh right, sorry. Justine, this is my friend Selina Rowe. We grew up together. Selina, this is…my new friend, Justine Martin.”
“Martin. Are you Jennifer’s daughter?”
I nodded. “You know my mom?”
“Sure, I met her couple of months ago with Mark. So, you’re Trey’s stepsister.”
My heart dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. Stepsister. Not friend. Definitely not girlfriend.
Not the kind of person he should be bringing to orgasm in public. What had he done to me? And why had I liked it so damn much?
“Sorry, I have an appointment. I have to go.” Without waiting for a reaction or response, I dashed down the steps and escaped into the subway station. I swiped my card through the turnstile and didn’t fully breathe until I arrived on the platform.
What a fool. Even if I could get past his lifestyle, did I really think we could get past the pesky little problem of being related? Unless something terrible happened between Mom and Mark, we were going to be related for the foreseeable future.
Then again, could I really get past his lifestyle? Selina was part of a world I didn’t know or understand or even want to know. She was clearly someone I’d never be. If she was the kind of woman he was used to, we had no hope together.
We had no hope anyway, because he was my stepbrother.
***
The last day of school I wore something summery, a magenta sundress. My students would be shocked to see me in a colorful and less severe outfit for a change, but despite yesterday with Trey, I was in a good mood. Mostly.
I’d have to come back tomorrow to pack up my desk, so I decided to leave early and enjoy the sunshine.
Outside, I caught a glimpse of a man who resembled Trey before a bus rumbled past and I lost sight of him. What was he doing here? Why couldn’t he leave me alone? We’d see each other at the next family reunion.
I strode to the crosswalk and waited for the light. Next to me a couple of boys balanced on skateboards. They were laughing and fooling around, and the taller boy pushed the smaller boy. The smaller boy shoved back and the tall boy rolled into the street.
It all happened as if in slow motion.
He rolled in front of a taxi. The driver blared the horn and his brakes screeched but he hit the boy.
“No!” The sound came out of me before I’d fully processed what happened.
The boy lay motionless in the street.
The driver got out of the cab. “He jumped out in front of me. I tried to stop.”
No one paid him any attention. I knelt down next to the boy. Scratches covered his face.
“Don’t touch him. Someone call 9-1-1.” Trey dropped to the ground next to me and visually inspected the boy.
The cabbie called for an ambulance on his radio.
Trey gently but quickly felt the boy’s bones. “I think his left leg is broken. And he probably hit his head when he fell.”
“Is this arm okay?” I asked, gesturing to the limb closest to me.
“As far as I can tell.”
I took the boy’s hand. I didn’t recognize him. He might be one of our students, but not in my class. His friend, the smaller boy, stood shaking on the sidewalk.
“What’s his name?”
“Andre.”
“You’re going to be okay, Andre,” I whispered.
A siren cut through the usual city din. “Thank goodness,” Trey breathed. It was the only way he’d displayed any uncertainty since the accident happened.
Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help feeling a flutter of appreciation for his commanding presence.
The EMTs loaded Andre into the back of the ambulance. Trey introduced himself and climbed in after Andre. As the doors closed, he met my eyes. His were filled with concern and pain.
The ambulance pulled away and I stared after it.
Trey really did care about people other than himself. He was the man I’d wanted him to be. Could I let him go simply because his father was married to my mother? We hadn’t grown up together. We weren’t children. We were adults, and we were only related through marriage. Not blood.
Would it be so wrong to be with him?
Andre’s accident demonstrated how easily things could change in life. Life was short. I wanted to be happy. I deserved to be happy.
I hailed a cab and directed it to the hospital.
At the desk in the emergency room, the nurse wouldn’t give me any information. She told me to sit in the waiting room and she’d let Dr. Connors know I was there.
An hour later, the double doors opened and Trey walked through. His broad shoulders sagged, as did the skin around his eyes. His gaze rose to meet mine. Exhaustion gave way to joy and a smile spread acr
oss his face. He had clearly witnessed too much suffering in his life, but seeing me seemed to help.
I ran at him. I threw myself into his arms and he wrapped me in his strength and warmth.
“You’re here,” he said, a catch in his voice.
I pulled away so I could look into his pain-shrouded eyes. “Yes.”
He leaned down and kissed me. His lips were hard and rough and I couldn’t get enough of them.
“Come home with me,” he mumbled against my cheek.
Taking his hand, I led him out of the hospital and into the fading light of the city. On the sidewalk, he hailed a cab.
In the back of the car, we snuggled together, trying to focus more on being close and less on wanting to rip each other’s clothes off.
Something occurred to me and I sat up. “You live here in the city.”
“Yes.” Wariness edged his voice.
“Then whose house did we…um…have sex in last time?”
He grinned at my discomfort. “Dad’s house. He stayed at the hotel the night before the wedding, so I knew we’d have the house to ourselves. I’d been planning on cooking you breakfast, but you snuck out on me.”
“I wanted to be home to help Mom. And I didn’t want her to see me sneaking in.” I let all of his words settle on me. “Wait, we slept in Mark’s bed?”
He nodded.
“Ew.”
He laughed and rubbed his hand up and down my arm until I forgot my disgust. Watching him today with the boy in the street, seeing how much he obviously cared for a stranger, had changed something in me. I’d always been attracted to him, since the moment we met. For his good looks, his charm, his intelligence, and his compassion.
The rich doctor thing didn’t have to be a problem. I’d seen him in action and it was the biggest turn-on ever. Being my stepbrother might always weird me out, but I thought I could get used to it. After all, we weren’t really related.
In the luxurious marble lobby, I focused on Trey and ignored our surroundings. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to the way he lived.
The empty elevator proved a fun place to explore each other’s lips again. The urgency returned and I couldn’t get enough of him. I pulled his arms around me and placed his hands on my hips. He slid one to my ass. The other snaked up to my breast and he pinched my nipple lightly. My breathing became shallow.
