Love and Whiskers

by Olivia Myers

I glanced at Mark and he only had eyes for my mom. He practically glowed with happiness.

  My gaze raked over Trey and our eyes met. He winked.

  He was as infuriating as I’d always imagined someone like him would be.

  Mom and Mark said “I do,” there was lots of clapping and cheering, and the ceremony ended. Trey took my arm and we pretended to stroll pleasantly back up the aisle. “You really do look gorgeous,” he said.

  His words prickled uncomfortably on my skin. He was my stepbrother now. He had no right to say such things anymore. But a part of me was flattered.

  For Mom’s sake, I put on a smile for pictures and pretended everything was fine. As soon as the photographer released us, I made a beeline for the bar. I debated taking it easy with white wine or drowning this latest development in martinis.

  “A dirty martini?” a familiar voice asked.

  I whirled around to find my new stepbrother smiling down at me and looking impossibly handsome in his tux. I wanted to crumple, to give in to his obvious charms.

  “No.” I faced the bartender. “White wine, please.”

  Trey laughed. Yes, this was all great fun. Finding out the best night of my life should never have happened. And with a plastic surgeon who spent his life doing nose jobs and giving women bigger boobs.

  I took my wine and marched away from him. Who needed Trey? There were plenty of other people here for me to talk to. My Aunt Vanessa and Uncle Mike. My cousins. Mom’s friends, Eileen and Chris and Joanne.

  Mom and Mark did their official first dance to Etta James’s “At Last.”

  The song choice gave me a pang. Did she still miss Dad sometimes? I did. Someday I'd get married and he wouldn't be here to give me away.

  “Can I please have this dance?”

  Glancing around, I noticed several people watching us. I guess they expected the kids to dance with each other. “Sure. But only because we have to.”

  He took me in his arms and whirled me to the center of the dance floor. Of course, he knew exactly how to dance, how to move. And I was all too aware of each movement and its effect on me.

  “Do you always do what you think you have to?” he asked.

  I sighed in annoyance. “Clearly not.”

  He laughed again. “Right. I remember.”

  I peeked at his face to see if he was making fun of me but all I saw in his eyes was heat. Taken by surprise, I swallowed and couldn’t tear my gaze away from his.

  We continued to move around the dance floor but I had no idea how or where. My steps followed his. He guided me with his hips and thighs, and the gentle pressure of his arms around me. My eyes stayed glued to his and my mind was in turmoil.

  When the song ended, I pushed him away and ran. I ran out of the ballroom and through the hotel’s corridors. Outside, I tried to catch my breath. How was this possible? I hadn’t met a decent guy, a guy worth a second look, in months. When I finally did, he was all wrong, on so many levels.

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  I expelled a frustrated breath. “Why are you following me? Can’t a woman have a moment to herself?”

  “Is that all it is? Because it seems like you’re mad at me.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to think through the fog caused by his nearness. By the manly scent of him.

  “I’m not mad at you, I’m just mad. Last night was…”

  “Last night was what?”

  “Amazing.” There, I’d said it, for good or bad.

  His shoulders relaxed. “I agree. Then what’s wrong?”

  “Last night was wrong. We’re related now, Trey. Or should I call you Trevor like my stepfather does?”

  He stepped away from me and kicked at the wall. “We’re not related, not by blood. We didn’t even grow up together as stepbrother and stepsister. There’s nothing wrong with us being together.”

  Maybe he was right, but I didn’t know how to explain the rest. About him being wrong for me. About his values being the opposite of mine.

  “We’re…too different. Anyway, today is about our parents, not us.” I walked away from him and reentered the ballroom to celebrate with my mother.

  ***

  Each step dragged the closer I got to Trey’s building on Manhattan’s East Side. I wasn’t looking forward to spending an evening alone with him, Mom, and Mark. Like we were a family now.

  I shuddered and trudged along the street from the subway station.

  His building was like several I’d passed during my years in New York, but I’d never actually been inside one this grand. The marble of the lobby shone and glittered in the lights of a massive chandelier. A red-coated doorman had opened the door for me and another uniformed man stood behind a counter to one side.

  I wasn’t used to this kind of luxury. Worse, it made me continue to question my feelings for Trey and the kind of man he really was. I wanted to believe he was the man I’d first met, the man I’d spent the night with.

  The thought alone made a blush creep up my face as the elevator climbed higher and higher.

  But he was also the rich plastic surgeon who probably only spent time in Africa to assuage his guilt at making more money than everyone else. Did he care about other people?

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I was on the top floor. Trey had a penthouse apartment in Manhattan.

  My world was so different. Dingy classrooms. A tiny studio apartment with finicky heat and no air conditioning. Subways instead of taxis.

  A door in front of me opened before I knocked. An older woman with hair pulled back in a severe – and old-fashioned – bun stood in the doorway. “Are you Justine?” the woman asked with an accent. I nodded. She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Masha. Come in, come in.”

  She ushered me in to a palatial living room with a wall of windows looking out on the East River in shadow from the setting sun.

  Mom joined me at the windows. “And there’s Brooklyn,” she said, pointing. “Looks pretty from here.”

  Before I could answer, Trey came in with a bottle of champagne. Champagne flutes waited on a table in front of him. He gave me a cocky grin. “Like the view?”

  I ignored him. I didn’t know if he was being sincere or smarmy that his view was overlooking my less expensive part of the city.

  He opened the champagne with only a tiny pop and poured it into the four flutes. Mark passed them around.

  “A big thank-you to my son for hosting us tonight for this quiet family dinner,” Mark said.

  I nearly choked on my champagne. In my head I knew Trey was now family, but my heart was still trying to deny it.

  Mark continued, “I’m so glad Justine could join us. I know this is the end of the school year for you and you must be insanely busy. Your mother and I really appreciate your support.” He gave me a big smile, an older and thinner-lipped version of Trey’s.

  I beamed back. I liked Mark and I liked him with my mom. They seemed genuinely happy. I couldn’t have asked for a better second chance for her.

  “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 cour
se.”

  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 this 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.

  “Sh
hh,” 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.