Auctioned on Valentine's Day: A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance

by Amy Brent

  “But my plans were to sink into the couch until I started to form with the cushions, ultimately leading to my disappearance,” I said.

  “Yeah, knock that shit off,” Gillian said.

  “All right, give me ten minutes,” I groaned.

  I pulled on a sweatshirt, grabbed my hat and shoes, and headed out to the car. I could walk, but it was way too fucking cold for that nonsense, so I drove the four blocks to Gillian’s house. I walked in the front door and followed the diatribe of giggles coming from the kitchen where I found the two of them whispering. They stopped and looked up at me, mischievous smiles on their faces. Uh-oh, those looks never turned out good for me.

  “So, what is this all about?” I peeked into Gillian’s candy bowl. “And where are all the gummy worms?”

  “I ate them,” Gillian said. “But that is not why we called you over.”

  “I assumed not. And by the looks on your faces, you’ve decided to torture me with some master plan you two have. I want to say ahead of time, unless it has something to do with knives, guns, laser beams, or my code name, Double-oh-eight, I’m not interested.”

  “Just sit down,” Caroline said, shaking her head.

  “I heard about Alex and the whore today.” Gillian rubbed my knee sympathetically. “All I have to say is good riddance. Let that two-timing homewrecker deal with his disgusting ass.”

  “I appreciate the female solidarity,” I said, pounding my fist on my chest. “But we all know Alex was not disgusting, even if he was an ass.”

  “The biggest ass there ever was.” Caroline nodded astutely.

  “Guys, focus. Why did you call me out of my cartoon coma?”

  “Oh,” Gillian said excitedly, sitting up straight in her chair and glancing at Caroline. “We have decided, and made all the arrangements, to take you on a last-minute trip for Valentine’s Day to get you out of your funk.”

  “Uh, hello? I have to work, and I have a date with this hot little number, Jack Daniels, who wants to spend a romantic evening at home tomorrow night,” I said. “We had big plans.”

  “Did it include tears, eating your weight in potato chips, and waking up in a hungover grease trap?” Caroline looked at me with a knowing stare.

  “Hey, he has been my greatest ally through all of this,” I said. “And that happened one time, and it was the day after I watched my future husband, the future father of my future children, banging a girl in my kitchen. I seriously cordoned off that section of my counter. It will never be used again.”

  “Right. Do you see anything wrong with this picture?” Gillian said. “You have a boyfriend in a bottle and police tape in your kitchen.”

  I sat there staring at them, thinking about spending Valentine’s Day alone for the first time since I was a kid. I imagined the mess of me covered in Cheeto powder, crying over my ex who’d be out romancing his new girlfriend. I sighed and looked back up at the girls.

  “Fine. I’m in,” I said reluctantly.

  “Good because we already cleared it with Greg.” Caroline smiled at my double-take.

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  Caroline looked at me and smirked, holding up a piece of paper with the Statue of Liberty on it.

  “New York City.”

  Chapter 3

  Brandt

  “Good morning, Mr. Brandt. It’s time to wake up,” my personalized alarm blasted.

  “Thank you, Lily. I’m awake,” I said to the AI.

  “Happy Valen—”

  “Don’t say it. Turn off.”

  “Powering off,” the device replied.

  I groaned, pulling myself up in the bed and rubbing my face. I was waking up early to get Sicily a good breakfast and get her off to school. I hated Valentine’s Day, especially now that I was single. My wife had run off two years before, leaving me and Sicily all alone. She had met someone, some rich elitist, and hadn’t even tried to get in contact with us since. We’d met in college, and everything had seemed great. We’d dated, gotten married, were really close, and then when the money hit, she changed. She hired a nanny to take care of Sicily and spent a lot of time away from the penthouse. Eventually, when Sicily had finished her five-year-old birthday bash, she dipped.

  Still, it was a holiday, one that Sicily loved, especially since it meant everything would be different shades of her favorite color, pink. I had always made her pink heart pancakes for breakfast on V-Day so that was what I was planning that morning. I pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and got to work. Her own personal AI having woken her, she emerged from her room smiling, her hair up in a ponytail, and wearing nothing but pink. She had a sweater on with giant hearts on the front, a pair of shiny pink spandex pants, and pink Chuck Taylor’s. There was even a hint of glitter on her cheeks, pink glitter of course.

  “Wow,” I said. “You look like a pink nightmare.”

  “I know you hate Valentine’s Day because Mom left,” she said matter-of-factly. “But it’s a day of love, so don’t rain on my parade.”

  “All right.” I laughed, putting her pancakes down in front of her.

  “I made you a card,” she said, handing it to me.

  “Aw, thank you, sweetheart.” I opened it and read it out loud. “Dear Dad, hope your Valentine’s Day isn’t too painful. You deserve better. Love, Sicily. P.S., maybe if you had a girlfriend, you would be a happier man.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled, digging into her pancakes.

  “Where did you get that attitude from?”

  “You,” she replied. “Though personality isn’t made up in DNA. It was learned since birth.”

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “Discovery,” she said.

  “Guess what I’m doing tonight, and you’re going to be proud of me,” I said.

  “Reruns of Superman cartoons from the sixties?”

  “No.” I took her plate with a furrowed brow. “I’m going out to a party.”

  “Really? No way. That is so awesome, Dad,” she said excitedly. “Where? What kind of party is it? Are you going to wear a red tie?”

  “No, it’s an anti-Valentine’s party,” I said, smiling.

  “You’re hopeless,” she said with a straight face. “But it’s better than last year when you sat around and yelled at the television all night.”

  “I did not,” I said.

  “We heard you, Grandma and I, when we came over to bring you dinner,” she said. “We decided to leave.”

  “It was a rough year,” I said in my defense, looking up at the knock on the door. “Go grab your jacket and overnight bag. Grandma’s here.”

  I watched her run into her room, a smile curving up on my face. That little girl was sharp as a whip, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep up with her as she got older. I shook my head and opened the door, smiling at my mom.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hello there, grumpy,” she said. “Here’s a candy heart. Eat it. It’ll make you sweeter.”

  I popped the candy heart into my mouth and chewed it up, never understanding the appeal of candy that tasted like chalk and sugar. Sicily came running out of her room, kissed me on the cheek, and hugged her grandma tightly. I was really glad my mom had agreed to help take care of Sicily. I didn’t know what I would do without her.

  “You two be safe,” I said.

  “And you be safe tonight,” my mom said with a smile. “Talk to a girl. It won’t kill you.”

  “And have fun, but don’t tell that joke about the rhinoceros and the giraffe,” Sicily yelled from down the hall.

  “Hey, I like that joke,” I said, scrunching my brow and shutting the door.

  I turned around and looked at the house, taking a moment to breathe after whirlwind Sicily ran through my morning. She kept this family together, she really did, but I couldn’t keep up with her or that mind most days. She was in a special school in New York, one that had taken special entrance testing and months of admissions processing, but Sicily had passe
d with flying colors. She was only seven but doing coursework at a high school sophomore level. It was a way for the gifted to get a full education before college instead of skipping grades. I’d never felt like those kids did very well as adults. The adjustment was difficult for them.

  I looked down at my watch and groaned, predicting I was going to be late for the meetings if I didn’t hurry up. I ran to the shower, cleaned up, changed, and grabbed my things as I walked out the door. When I got down to the lobby, there was a car waiting for me, and I shivered. Distracted, I’d walked out without my coat. Oh well, I would survive. I sat in the back seat with heat blasting, watching as we drove the nine blocks to the office, watching everyone hurrying down the sidewalks. The color red in multiple variations was everywhere, and there were at least a hundred dozen roses floating around in the arms of desperate men trying to please their significant others. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with that this year. Sicily was happy with heart-shaped pancakes and a sleepover at Grandma’s with ice cream and her best friend.

  I got to work and headed for my office on the top floor. When I stepped into the elevator, Tony, one of my “scientists” as I liked to call them, smiled excitedly at me. I shook his hand and pressed the button on the elevator before anyone else could get in. I could tell he wanted to talk about a project.

  “I’m really excited to present you guys the latest on the personal AI,” he said. “We’ve had some huge breakthroughs. There has been so much data uploaded, it almost seems as if the robot is thinking for itself.”

  “Wow,” I said, genuinely excited. “That is huge.”

  “I’ll see you in the meeting,” he said, getting off on his floor.

  Everyone in the office was dressed in red except me, who’d opted for my Halloween tie instead. I liked the zombies on the front and figured it added a little something special to the day. I stepped out and headed down the hall.

  “Brandt,” Trevor said, catching up with me. “You ready for the meeting?”

  “Just gotta grab my notes,” I said, walking into the office.

  “Nice tie, dude.” Trevor shook his head. “You’re like the Valentine’s Day Scrooge.”

  “I’m not the only one. Jenny from accounting said she hated Valentine’s Day too,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, because her boyfriend broke up with her in a crowded New York City restaurant last Valentine’s Day, not because she has no soul like you.” Trevor laughed as we hurried back to the elevator.

  “Well, I still consider her an ally,” I said.

  We got to the meeting as everyone else was arriving, and I shook my head at the pink-dyed muffins and pink-frosted donuts on the table. We listened to the techs talk about their advances with the project. We were designing a robot of sorts but for personal use, something the public could purchase for their home. The robot was fully functional and was designed to help with chores, homework for the kids, cooking dinner, and pretty much anything a maid would do.

  “This new program that we installed late Tuesday night has enabled the AI to walk around, turn down halls, pick things up, and sense when there are temperature, noise, and elevation changes,” the tech said. “It’s a huge leap forward in our project and has enabled us to start building the software that will push this AI right where we want it. We suspect by the end of June, this robot will be fully functional in all the capabilities we’re looking for.”

  We all clapped, watching the screen as he played a video of the prototype walking around a kitchen, grasping pots, pans, turning on the stove, and many other things. This was going to be the crown jewel of the new sector of the company, a sector I’d added the year before. It was where I’d come up with the system I used in my house to talk to me, keep my schedule, and alert me if there were any issues inside the complex.

  When the meeting was over, I congratulated the team on an amazing job, feeling really pumped up about everything. I went back to my office and sat behind my computer, still reeling from the meeting. I looked up as Trevor entered and shut the door behind him.

  “That was fucking amazing, right?” I said.

  “It was definitely everything you said you wanted,” Trevor replied. “I’m very impressed. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, are we still on for the party tonight?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sicily’s going to be at my mother’s all night, so we’re good. I had my tux dry-cleaned and pressed, and they’re delivering it to the complex today.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now I’m going to ask something of you.”

  “What?” I said curiously.

  “I need you to try to relax tonight. Don’t go running off at the first chance,” he said. “Enjoy the party, stay out all night, and for God’s sake, talk to women.”

  “I promise to try to be social,” I said, looking up as Trevor stood looking at his ringing phone.

  “I guess that is all I can expect.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you at the bar later.”

  I went back to work, burying myself in the logistics of the new project. By the time the day was done, I was actually pretty stoked to go out. I went back to the apartment and dressed in my tux, looking at myself in the mirror. I still thought I looked damn good in a tux, and I was glad this was a black-tie event. I never dressed up, and I always felt like James Bond with my gadgets and my seven-thousand-dollar tuxedo.

  My car pulled up in front of the bar, and I sat there for a second, sending Sicily a good night text. She sent me back a bunch of hearts and told me to be nice to the ladies. I laughed and shook my head, wondering what she would ever do if I actually found a girlfriend. I put my phone in my pocket and stepped out, walking up to the doors as the doorman opened it for me. The whole place was covered in black and silver with cupids hanging dead from the ceiling. I chuckled to myself as I looked around at all the people dressed to the hilt and hating this day as much as me. Maybe this party wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

  Chapter 4

  Emma

  One good thing about being dragged out of town on Valentine’s Day was the fact that I didn’t have to go to work. The girls had cornered Greg and basically given him a sob story about how I was personally falling apart, and they needed to get me out of town to get me back on my feet. That was where his speech about Alex had come from. At least he had agreed and given me the day off. Otherwise, I would have had to grovel, and I hated groveling. I loved where I lived, I really did. I grew up in Camden, and it was the all-American small town. We had Fourth of July parades, we still took pictures with Santa, and everyone was there when someone got married, when someone died, or when a baby was born. The town sign still put up special messages on people’s birthdays. It was a place you could settle down, raise a child, and leave your doors unlocked in the evening. The one thing I hated, though, was how everyone knew everything.

  I hated the looks I got when I walked into a restaurant or a movie by myself. Everyone knew that Alex and I had been the town couple, the two that they just knew would be together forever. When everything had fallen apart, people were stopping by to check on me, bringing by food, and every time I went anywhere, the looks of pity followed me. It made me feel worse than I already did, constantly reminding me of my pathetic life. My life had been a struggle for weeks, and I couldn’t seem to find enjoyment in anything. However, as I packed some clothes into my carry-on, I started to get excited about the trip. I wasn’t excited to go to New York necessarily, but anywhere away from Camden and Alex, at that point, was very much needed. I finished up packing and pulled on some comfy yoga pants, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt for traveling.

  “Knock, knock,” Caroline called out as I walked down the stairs. Well, I guess I had forgotten to lock the front door. “Are you ready to get wild and crazy in New York City?”

  “Whoo,” Gillian yelled as she walked in behind her, dancing. “Girl’s weekend! I would pop some champagne, but one, I don’t have any, and two, the
car is waiting out front. So, hurry your ass up.”

  “The car?”

  “Yeah, I hired a driver because a cab to Bangor to the airport was insane, and I didn’t feel like leaving my car there,” Caroline said. “Here, give me your bag. I’ll carry it. You turn off your lights and lock your doors, for damn sakes.”

  “All right.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m coming.”

  I smiled and laughed, listening to Caroline and Gillian talk excitedly about New York as we drove to the airport. I was the only one in the car who had never been there before, and Caroline apparently went there all the time. I wanted to travel more, I really did, but I had gotten stuck in a life that I thought I’d wanted. After Alex and I had broken up, I was still in the same old routines. We got to the airport and boarded the plane, heading straight to first class. Caroline said she didn’t want to be smashed on this flight, that she had been smashed in business class all the way to England. I was all about the leg room and warm towels and wondered briefly how much all of this cost. On second thought, I didn’t want to know. It would probably depress me more. We sat there excitedly as the plane took off, holding hands and looking out the window as we rose into the clouds.

  “We’re off,” Caroline said happily. “I love takeoff. It’s so exciting.”