Misadventures with a Twin

by Elizabeth Hayley

  “Okay” was all he said, but his tone told me he didn’t believe a word I’d said. And something told me the more I thought about what he’d said, the more I wouldn’t believe my words either.

  “So you’re just not gonna sell the restaurant? Or you aren’t gonna sell it to Zara? You can’t afford to keep it, can you?”

  “No, I can’t afford to keep it,” he answered. “At least not by myself. Which is one of the reasons Zara suggested we go into business together. She figured it would be a good way to let me keep the restaurant in the family and still have her be a part of it. It’ll be good for us, and my passion for this place is back.”

  I was not expecting that, though Zara had mentioned that she knew my dad selling the restaurant would be hard for me.

  “Well, this is gonna be awkward.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Colton

  I had likely reached a certain level of stalker as I sat in my car outside Zara’s house, but I wanted to talk to her, and I was worried she wouldn’t take my call. So here I was. Like a creeper.

  This sucked. It shouldn’t be like this. I shouldn’t feel this baffling mix of excitement and worry to see someone—especially someone I cared about so much. But I needed to man up because someone else I cared about had been dragged into this mess too, and I couldn’t let my dad suffer because I was a fuckup.

  They’d come to the agreement before we’d fought, so there was no guarantee Zara would still want to be my dad’s partner. I threw open my truck door with a burst of purpose, shoved my hands into my pockets, and walked up to her door. I rapped on it quickly before returning my hand to my pocket.

  There was a long enough wait to make me question whether she was going to open the door. I knew she was home, or at least strongly suspected it, since her car was out front. But eventually she did open it—just enough to fit herself in the open space.

  She looked good—not that that was surprising. She always looked beautiful. But in a soft white sweater and tight jeans, Zara was stunning, and I wished I hadn’t lost the right to tell her so.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, not necessarily unkindly but not warmly either. There was a weariness and a wariness to the question that made my insides feel squirrely.

  “I needed to talk to you…about the restaurant.”

  “What about it?” She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms over her chest—the same stance she’d adopted the last time I’d seen her. It was as if she felt she needed to protect herself from me, which made me hurt all over.

  “I just want to make sure you know I’ll stay out of your way there. I don’t want my mistakes to hurt my dad’s chances of this deal going through. He seems excited to co-own it with you, and I don’t want to cost him that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. She looked like a praying mantis who was about to eat my head. “So that’s what you think of me, huh?”

  “Um, what?” What I thought of her? I was worried what she thought of me, sure. But her… She was amazing. How could I ever think anything differently?

  “You must think I’m extraordinarily petty if you think I’d compromise not only my own business opportunities but also the chance to work with a man I respect as a business owner and would value as a partner because of my personal feelings about his son.”

  “Okay, so…that’s not even close to what I meant.” Jesus, how was it possible I’d fucked this up even worse? Had some warlock put a curse on me or something? Because this was getting ridiculous.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I just didn’t want anything that happened with us to impact how you felt about my dad. He’s the best guy I’ve ever met, and I don’t want you to think badly of him just because he raised a moron.”

  “You’re a grown man, Colton. No one is responsible for your decisions except you.”

  “Yeah. Right. Exactly. Good. Glad we got that settled, then.”

  She looked at me like I was an idiot, which in her defense was fair. “Goodbye, Colton.” And just like that, the door between us was closed.

  “Goodbye, Zara,” I said softly before returning to my truck. Once inside, I gripped the wheel tightly, as if doing so would keep all the emotions swirling inside me from spilling out of my pores.

  When I’d fallen in love with motorcycles in my early twenties, it had been a done deal for me. There’d been no doubt from that point on what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Even the thought of not working on bikes anymore made my chest feel heavy. Despite my reluctance to commit to things, once I did, it was forever.

  And as I sat there with blurry vision and a scratchy throat, I knew the same applied to my feelings for Zara. Forever was a long time to have to live with the heaviness of not being able to have her in my life. And I wasn’t sure how I would manage it.

  ZARA

  Today had sucked. To be fair, all my days since CJ had come clean as Colton had sucked. But seeing him today, looking all sad and sorry, was particularly hard. Especially since he’d only come because he was worried about his dad. Not about me or our relationship.

  There had been moments I’d been able to convince myself it hadn’t all been a lie. No one was that good an actor—at least some of his feelings for me had to be real. But then I remembered how easily he’d walked away, both a week ago and today, and it cemented how little I knew the real him. How deceived I’d been about who he was.

  Because a name was just that: a name. Hadn’t Shakespeare written something about names not mattering? A rose would smell sweet no matter what you called it or however the saying went.

  If the man behind the name had been real, I maybe could’ve agreed with that sentiment. I maybe could’ve gotten past it. And granted, maybe it wasn’t the best of odds, but there was a chance. If Colton had only shown that he wanted it. But he hadn’t, and he didn’t, and that’s what had driven me to the gym, of all places, on a Wednesday night. Maybe if I worked out hard enough, exhaustion would replace the pain that came from my heart being blown into jagged shards inside my chest.

  I walked into Transform Fitness and was immediately greeted with the smiling face of Jaz, one of their trainers. “Zara, you’ve come to take my hot yoga class. How wonderful.”

  “I have?” I asked as I scrunched my face up.

  “You have,” she said purposefully.

  “That actually doesn’t sound like me.” I’d done yoga before, but doing it while sweating to death sounded akin to torture.

  “Then maybe you should try sounding like someone else.” The teasing was clear in her voice, but her words made me suck in a breath. I’d love nothing more than to be someone else—someone who hadn’t fallen in love with a liar.

  “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Sweet! Class starts in ten minutes. We have mats outside the studio if you need to borrow one.”

  I gave her a small smile, said a thank-you I didn’t mean, and went to the locker room to lock up my belongings. Since she was drafting people at the front desk, I expected the hot yoga studio to be empty, but it was nearly full. I rolled out my mat in an open space and stretched to keep myself occupied.

  A few minutes later, Jaz came in. “No way, you two. I already reserved spots for you up front.”

  I turned to see who she was talking to, and I noticed the gym owners, Wilder and Maddox, standing on mats in the back corner of the room.

  “Come on, Jazzy. We’re fine back here,” Wilder practically whined. Had he just called her Jazzy?

  She pointed a finger at them. “You are going to pay for calling me that in public. And you are most certainly not fine back there. Up front.”

  “She’s so bossy,” Wilder mock-whispered. “Who hired her anyway?”

  “You did,” Maddox grumbled as he started toward the front of the room.

  “You let me do the dumbest things.” Wilder was shaking his head as if he had deep regret over his choices.

  “Keep it up, jokers. You’ll regret even sign
ing up for my class.”

  “You signed us up for this class,” Maddox argued as he got settled on the mat Jaz had evidently set up for him at the front of the room.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “I know what’s happening here,” Wilder declared. “You’re trying to kill us. Well, your evil plot won’t work, Jazzy. The villain never defeats the heroes.”

  Jaz slowly walked toward him, stepping right into his space. “Did you just refer to me as the villain in this scenario?”

  Wilder seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “I may have spoken rashly.”

  Next to him, I could see Maddox smiling widely, clearly enjoying the scene playing out in front of him. I’d suspected for a while there was something more than friendship going on between the three of them, but I didn’t know any of them well enough to know for sure. But there was definite chemistry there, and it made me more jealous than it had a right to.

  Jaz’s stare slowly devolved into a smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said before moving away from him and getting the class started.

  An hour later, I was convinced I’d have been drier if I’d been caught in a rainstorm. But on the plus side, I hadn’t thought about Colton during my session. Too bad the effect hadn’t lasted longer. Like forever.

  At least a portion of my distraction was due to the painful grunts of Maddox and Wilder in the front of the room. It was clear the two large men weren’t used to contorting their bodies in graceful ways. They both fell onto their mats and sprawled out like starfish as soon as Jaz announced class was over.

  “We survived. We actually survived,” Wilder said through harsh pants.

  “Speak for yourself,” Maddox grunted.

  “Get up, drama queens. You need to hydrate,” Jaz said as she stood over them, looking amused. She lifted her head and her gaze caught mine, which made me realize I’d been staring.

  I quickly wiped down my mat and put it away, waved my thanks, and hightailed it out of there. After grabbing my stuff, I left the gym, my body enjoying the rush of cold air. Starting toward my car, I found myself hesitating to continue in that direction. I didn’t want to go home yet. I didn’t want to be social either, so calling any of my friends was out. Noticing a bar a few doors down from the gym, I decided that having a drink in the presence of people I didn’t have to actually speak to was appealing.

  Walking into Navre’s Pub, I took in the dated interior. Light wood floors gave way to green walls. The bar took up an entire wall and had red cushioned stools beside it. I slid onto one, and the bartender immediately came over.

  “How ya doing? What can I get ya?”

  “Cosmo, please.”

  He moved away to mix it, and I shucked off my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair. Thankfully I’d worn a long-sleeved shirt over my tank top to the gym, so I felt a little more appropriately dressed than being in completely sweaty workout gear. I removed a twenty from my wallet before putting it back in my small gym bag, which I then attached to the small hook under the bar.

  The bartender returned with my drink and asked if he could get me anything else. When I declined, he grabbed the twenty and returned with my change a moment later. I sipped my drink, enjoying the way the fruity flavor slid down my throat and the alcohol warmed my chest. My mind whirled, struggling to latch on to one particular train of thought. Instead, I was being bombarded with a barrage of musings that left me wondering when things were going to get better. As I took another sip of my cocktail, I noticed someone sit on the stool next to mine, even though there were others available.

  The bartender came over and tossed a coaster onto the bar. “What can I get ya?”

  “Can I get a Miller Lite?” the man beside me said, and the familiarity of his voice made me freeze.

  I slowly panned toward the man who’d sat down beside me. No fucking way.

  From the amused look on his face, I may have said that last bit out loud. “Of all the gin joints in all the world.”

  Part of me—the panicked part who was losing it at being confronted with the man who looked exactly like his brother and who I’d thought I’d been in a relationship with—wanted to guzzle my drink and run. But the sane part wouldn’t allow myself to show that level of weakness. So I ignored him and played with the stem of my glass as though I didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I’m really glad this isn’t awkward,” he commented.

  I turned to him in disbelief. “I didn’t ask you to sit down next to me.”

  The bartender dropped off Corey’s drink but didn’t hang around. Corey took a swig from the bottle of lager and then turned his attention back to me.

  “What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  He smiled, but it looked all wrong. His canine was slightly crooked, giving his smile a bit of a comedic quality. His eyes were also the wrong shade of green, a little too light to truly pop against eyebrows that were lighter than his brother’s. Corey was an attractive man, but it was easy to tell the twins apart once you knew what to look for. That realization actually put me more at ease. I wasn’t having a drink with a Colton doppelgänger; I was stuck next to a man I could treat as the stranger he was.

  “Seems like I’m the one being punished,” I muttered as I faced the bar once more.

  He chuckled at that and took another drink. The silence between us lasted long enough for me to hope he wasn’t going to attempt to hold a conversation. I’d finish my drink and get the hell out of there.

  “It was partly my fault,” he said, causing my hope to go up in flames. “He wanted to tell you, but I convinced him not to when we found out you were interested in Dad’s business. I didn’t want the deal to fall through.”

  I let out a humorless laugh. “You and your brother have very high opinions of me.”

  “I don’t think Colton’s ever had a higher opinion of anyone than he does of you.”

  “Yeah, the months of lying really drove that home.”

  “Do you really think that?”

  “That he has a low opinion of me? Yes.”

  Corey shook his head. “No, not that part. Though that’s bullshit too, for the record. But do you really think he was lying the whole time?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I felt my brow furrow. “Uh, yeah. He admitted to it.”

  “He admitted to letting you think he was me, and sure, I can give you that that wasn’t his best moment. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t get to know who he was.”

  I rubbed my forehead with my fingers. “Corey, I really don’t need this shit right now.”

  He turned more fully toward me and looked at me intently. “Okay, just please let me say this one thing. Colton is…complicated. He has been for a long time. Who he thinks he is and who he actually is are two very different people. It was like he spent the past ten years being Pinocchio, and then you came along and turned him into a real boy.”

  “Funny. I see it as the reverse since he’s been lying to me since the reunion.”

  “Shit, I’m fucking this up. It’s just…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that he lied about his name, but everything else—how he felt, who he actually was when he was with you—that was all real. It was the most real I’ve seen him be in years. And I hate that I played a part in ruining it for him. Maybe if you guys could just talk—”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “We did that. He had his chance to say what he needed to. Twice. And none of it hinted at any of the things you just described.”

  “That doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

  “That may be, but I don’t owe him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t owe him anything.” I stood and grabbed my things.

  Corey visibly deflated, probably knowing he couldn’t argue it. I had no debts to pay in this situation, and no amount of tugging on my heartstrings was going to change that.

  Pushing the stool back so I could slip past him, I said what I hoped would be the last thing I’d ever say to either
of them. “If you guys don’t want to live with your regrets, don’t do things that cause them in the first place.”

  And with that, I left, wishing this shit day would just end already.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Colton

  I woke up anxious and frustrated, knowing I had to get out of my apartment. With no real destination in mind, I got in my car and drove. But I wasn’t surprised when I pulled up to my dad’s house. As I walked in, I felt the constant thrum of anxiety calm a bit. He was my rock, my anchor. And while the negative feelings swirling around my body didn’t disappear, they became manageable in my childhood home.

  I heard dishes clattering in the kitchen, so I made my way in that direction. My dad must have heard my footfalls, because he was staring at the doorway when I stepped into it. “Morning,” he said. “Hungry?”

  I wasn’t, but I wanted the normalcy that came from him cooking for me in this kitchen. “Yeah. Starved.”

  He gestured to a stool across the island from where he stood. “Have a seat.” He pulled more eggs out of the fridge and set about making me an omelet. A mug of coffee appeared in front of me a minute later.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly before taking a sip. I hadn’t talked to my dad since he’d read me the riot act about lying to Zara, but there was none of the awkwardness I expected.

  He plated my eggs and slid them in front of me before tossing me a fork.

  “Mom would’ve yelled at you for throwing utensils in her kitchen.”

  That made him laugh. “Yeah, she would’ve. There are a lot of things she would’ve yelled at me about.”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I took a big bite of eggs to try to force it down.

  “Do you miss it?” I asked, my voice quiet as I looked down at my food.

  “Her yelling at me?” he asked with a smile.

  It was maybe a weird question to ask, a weird thing to want to know, but it suddenly felt incredibly important to me that I get an answer to it.