The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Well then, show her that they are compatible,” he says, as if it’s the obvious solution.

  “Are you telling me to take that godforsaken test all over again? No way in hell, man. That was a nightmare. And why the hell am I the one going out of my way to make things up to her? Pretty sure she owes me an apology.”

  “Remember the whole Julia is stubborn conversation? You’re going to have to make the first move, and that move is taking that test. Properly.” He points his finger on the bar top. “I guarantee you, it will be the way to her heart. Prove to her once and for all you’re the guy for her.”

  “And what if I don’t score the color she wants?” What if she’s right? What if on paper we’re still not compatible even though I know in my heart that we are?

  Roark shrugs. “I don’t know . . . then you’re fucked.”

  “Gee, thanks, man.”

  He slaps me on the back. “Anytime.” He leans over the bar. “Bartender, four shots of whiskey over here; we’re going to need some strong stuff.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  JULIA

  This is what miserable feels like.

  No, not just miserable, but overwhelmingly depressed and miserable. I thought I had it rough after Bram came to my apartment and confused the hell out of me with his lips. I thought that was a low time in my life.

  I was wrong.

  That was like being on the beach with a book in hand being hand-fed grapes by muscular cabana boys compared to this raw torture.

  I can still see the look in his eyes. It’s engrained in my brain, the sheer look of panic, followed by anger. Bram has always been easygoing. There has only been one other time that I’ve seen that kind of anger, and it was when that guy tried to assault me in college. Tonight though, I saw his blue-green eyes turn to black, and it was a sight I never wish to see again.

  After he left, Rath let me have it. You would think he was Bram’s brother rather than mine. He told me I was being a fool, a stubborn ass for letting Bram walk out that door, because never in his life had he ever seen his best friend love and care for someone as he loves and cares for me. But until Bram, the person who has loved me unconditionally had been my brother. Apart from Clarissa, he has been by my side championing my studies and years of research. He has always looked out for me, and to hear him support his best friend, who not only didn’t take the test truthfully, but also told me it was stupid? That broke my heart too. And I told him that. In fact, for the first time, we completely disagreed with each other, and that was unsettling.

  And yet, I couldn’t seem to move forward. I couldn’t get myself to pick up the phone. Instead, I went back home and cried myself to sleep, then called in sick to Anita and asked her to rearrange my schedule. I think she could tell I was lying from the short bursts of sobs that sounded over the phone. But like the good assistant she is, she never pried into my personal life, but professionally handled everything on the business end for me.

  Now, two days later, my heart is still broken, my pride still annoyingly sharp, and I sit at my desk with too many unanswered emails to count and not one ounce of willingness to do my job. Instead I stare out my window into the vast openness of the New York City skyline, with one thing on my mind: Bram.

  I want to reach out to him, to apologize, tell him how sorry I am, but a small part of me, the insistent part of me that’s dictated my entire life, is telling me it’s a bad idea, that I’ll only end up getting hurt again. I’ve been hurt many times by men, over and over again. And how embarrassing is that? The matchmaker can’t find love herself.

  But isn’t that the old saying: if you can’t do it, teach it? I’m in that boat right now. I’m helping everyone but myself.

  There is a light knock at my door. “Miss Westin, here is the file you requested.”

  I don’t remember requesting a file, but then again, if I were to close my eyes, I would have no idea what I’m wearing either, so I take the file and thank Anita.

  “Did you eat lunch?”

  “It’s ten in the morning,” Anita says, looking at me with a tilt of her head.

  Only ten? God, why is time so slow right now?

  “Oh, really? Huh, I thought it was later.”

  Anita takes a step closer and sits across from me. “Can I speak candidly?”

  “Might as well.” I gesture for her to continue.

  She clears her throat and rests her hands on her lap. “I’m going to assume your recent mood has come from a confrontation with Mr. Scott.”

  “You could say that. I think I broke up with him, or he broke up with me. One of those; it’s still foggy what happened.”

  “But you were so happy.”

  I run my finger over my desk, making small circles. “I was, wasn’t I?”

  “You were, so why take away that happiness?” Because it won’t last. Can’t last.

  “Because,” I sigh, “I’m terrified he’ll end up being another failed relationship. With Bram, I don’t want it to fail.”

  “But, hasn’t it already failed if you’re not together?”

  “I guess so.” I bite my bottom lip. “But what if we’re not a match?”

  “Does that really matter to you? My husband and I aren’t perfect matches. We’re pretty close, but it doesn’t mean I’m about to divorce him. Instead we work through the hard parts of our relationship, and it’s what makes our marriage challenging and fun.”

  “God, Anita. Does it? I’ve relied on facts and figures for years. But you’re happy?”

  “Not always, if I’m honest, but that’s how it is in a true-love-focused marriage. Some days I want to punch Trevor, but most days I know I’d hate to live my life without him.”

  Oh God. I can’t live my life without Bram. I shake my head, hating myself, but so conflicted. “Bram is the best guy I know, the sexiest, the sweetest, the funniest, the most loyal, but I don’t know how to reconcile facts versus feelings here. I’m out of ideas.”

  “Maybe on paper you are. But not in your heart. Don’t forget to listen to its beat.”

  Let your heart beat . . . for me.

  “He’s wanted to be with me for ten years. Who does that?”

  “Someone who loves you unconditionally.” Unconditionally: not subject to any conditions.

  Someone who listens intently, always offering support and encouragement. Someone who takes time to talk to the geeky girl so she feels comfortable. Someone whose soul is so attuned they sense when their soulmate is in trouble and makes sure she is safe. I know that someone. I love that someone.

  I grab my purse from the floor and stand. “I’m going to see him.” Anita stands and hands me the file that I placed on my desk. “Before you leave, I need you to look at this.”

  “Can’t it wait?” I put my phone in my purse and walk toward the office door.

  “It really can’t. Please give it a quick glance?”

  Good God, Anita. Now is not the time.

  I don’t say that to her though. Instead, I smile politely and take the file. Fumbling for a second, I finally grab hold of everything and flip open the page. Clear as day, there is a picture of Bram at the top, followed by his profile. I glance at Anita. “Why do I need to look at this?”

  “Look at the highlighted part at the bottom.”

  There it is, highlighted in neon yellow, his dating hue.

  Blue.

  I blink a few times and then look back at Anita. “What is this?”

  Smiling brightly, Anita practically dances in place. “Mr. Scott emailed me two days ago and asked me to send him the test again. I did. He filled out everything again. I just got his results back. He’s a blue, Miss Westin, and if you look at the results on the next page, he’s a ninety-nine percent match with a green… with you.”

  Tears fill my eyes, the beat of my heart sounding off in my ears.

  He took the test again. I can’t believe it, after everything I said to him, he took the test again.

  “Are you happy?”
r />   My lip trembles. “I can’t believe he did that.”

  “He loves you, Miss Westin. He would do anything for you, he said it in his email.”

  “I . . . I need to see him.”

  I hand her the file and sprint out of my office. “Good luck,” I hear Anita shout right before the elevator door opens.

  Please don’t let there be too much traffic.

  * * *

  “Miss Westin, are you okay?” Linus rounds his desk and puts a hand on my back as I huff and puff, bent at the waist, hands on my knees.

  “Yup.” I gulp for air. “But could I bother you for some water?”

  “No bother at all.” He quickly retrieves a bottled water, undoes the cap, and hands me the bottle. I guzzle it down in a very unladylike fashion. If I wasn’t worried about my mascara running, I would spray my face with the water as well, but I hold back.

  “Did you run here”—he looks at my shoes—“in heels?”

  “Just a few blocks, so nothing like a marathon.” I wipe my forehead. “Sheesh, I hope I don’t look too terrible. Do I look like a mess?”

  Linus’s face softens. “You look lovely, Miss Westin.”

  And this is why Bram keeps Linus around. I straighten my blouse and flatten out my skirt. “Is, um, is Bram in?”

  “He is, but I’ll warn you, he has been intolerable lately. I’m not sure you should go in there. He threw a half-eaten apple at the wall earlier because it had a brown spot.”

  I wince. “I think I’m the reason he’s in a mood.”

  “Oh, no doubt. Breaking his heart would do that to him.” I should have known Bram told Linus. Bram tells Linus everything. “Although, since you were the cause of all the trouble, maybe you should go in there.”

  “How upset is he?” I ask, wanting to gauge the man I’ll see when I walk through his door.

  “He wouldn’t drink the milkshake I brought him yesterday.”

  “Oh, that’s bad.”

  “Exactly. But I will tell you this. I’m glad you’re here, because you’re the only one who can make him happy. You’re truly the only person who’s ever made him happy to his core, and I would hate to see him lose that happiness.”

  “Me too,” I say softly while walking toward the door. From over my shoulder, I give Linus a parting smile and take a deep breath.

  The tinted windows act as walls, so the room is darker than normal. I close the door behind me and notice Bram sitting in his office chair, his back toward me, staring out into nothing.

  “I told you I didn’t want any Pop-Tarts, Linus.”

  “It’s not Linus.”

  In a flash, Bram whips his chair around to find me standing nervously in front of his door.

  “Julia,” he says in awe. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to you. Is now an okay time?”

  “Of course.” He gets out of his chair and walks to his sitting area where he takes a seat on the couch. I join him, sitting about a foot away. I set my purse on the coffee table and try to find my words despite the nerves rushing through me.

  “I’m sorry, Bram.” He goes to speak but I shush him, needing to get this off my chest. “I’m sorry for treating you like you were just another one of my crappy boyfriends. You are nothing like them, so I don’t know why I lumped you into their category. I think I was scared of failing at love again, and I failed to look at the facts my heart was trying to tell me. I was only taking the advice from my books and charts.”

  I scoot closer and take his hand in mine.

  “I saw your true test results, but they meant nothing to me, because before Anita forced me to look at them, I had already made up my mind and was about to leave my office to come to you. I wanted to follow the advice from my heart and listen to the profile it wrote up about you.”

  Bram’s eyes soften, a smirk rests on his face. “And what was the write-up from your heart?”

  “That you’re its soul mate, counterpoint, and perfect match. That your heart belongs with mine, and it’s ridiculous that I questioned that. I’m sorry I doubted you. Us.” I cup his cheek. “I love you, Bram. You’re the man of my dreams, my perfect match, and the person I want to spend my days with.”

  He lets out a deep breath. “Christ, Jules, you have my heart beating out of my chest.” He pulls me onto his lap and runs his hands up my back. “I love you so goddamn much. I would take that test five more times to prove to you that we belong together and I’m so goddamn sorry I said those things about your program. You know I didn’t mean them.”

  I shake my head. “I know and I didn’t need the test to figure out we belong together. I already knew, I was just too afraid to fully trust my heart.”

  “But you see it now, just like me?”

  “Yes, I do.” I press a soft kiss across his lips. “I’m sorry it took me over ten years to figure it out.”

  He quietly chuckles against my lips. “Better late than never, Jules.”

  “It’s Julia.” I smile in between kisses.

  “Nah, you’ll always be Jules to me, the girl I fell in love with in college, my best friend’s sister.”

  Epilogue

  BRAM

  “If my casserole burns, I’m going to stare at you while you sleep, without blinking. I know how much you hate that.”

  I shiver in my bare feet. I really do fucking hate that. Not that she does it, but it’s a fear of mine, waking up to see a non-blinking person staring at me. Who fucking does that?

  Creeps. That’s who.

  I would karate chop that person’s head off so fast before they could even step out of the way or consider blinking.

  “This will only take a few seconds. I promise.” I keep my hand over her eyes as I walk her into my bedroom.

  “You do realize I know where we are, right? I’ve spent more time than I can imagine in your apartment, especially your bedroom, so covering my eyes was pointless.”

  “Hey, Miss Practicality, let me have my moment.”

  She sheepishly smiles. “Sorry, please proceed.”

  I whip my hand from her eyes and gesture toward my bedroom. She gives me a look. “If sex is on the table, then my casserole really will suffer.”

  “Sex is always on the table, but that’s not why we’re here. We are here because . . . drum roll please.”

  Because she’s the best girlfriend in the entire world, she sounds off the perfect drum roll. I wait a few seconds before pulling out a drawer in my dresser, showing off the crisp white stacks of tube socks.

  “Ta-da.” I toss my hands in the air as if I’m a magician revealing my trick.

  She studies the socks and then looks back up at me. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re tube socks for you.” I take her hands in mine and bring her in close. “I love you, Jules, and I think it’s about damn time we move in together, don’t you? You practically live here anyway, so we might as well make it official by giving you your own tube sock drawer.”

  “You want me to move in with you?”

  “Did you not get that from the drawer?” I point to the romantic gesture to remind her.

  “No, I did. I guess I’m a little shocked, that’s all. It’s only been a couple months.”

  “Yeah, a couple months of going back and forth to each other’s apartments. We spend every night together, so we might as well share a place as well. Come on, I’ll give you your choice of the side of the bed.”

  “What about closet space?”

  I rub my forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you this? I’m rich. If you want more closet space, I’ll get you more closet space. If you want to live together in a different apartment, we can start looking tomorrow. All I want is for us to live together, so I can come home knowing my girl dipped her toes in her very own tube sock drawer and is waiting for me on the couch, ready to welcome me home.”

  “What if I want you to welcome me home? How are you going to do that?”

  “Naked and with a boner.” I wiggl
e my eyes at her, causing her to roll hers.

  “Oh, I’m so lucky,” she deadpans with perfect annoyed inflection.

  I scoop her into my arms. “Come on, is that a yes?” I wait on bated breath.

  “Do you really have to ask? You know it’s impossible for me to say no to you.” She grips the back of my head and pulls me into a deep kiss, one that I savor, one I’ve come to realize breathes fresh air into my lungs.

  So, what’s the secret to dating your best friend’s sister?

  I’ve discovered four things: you need to transition your girl from being only your best friend’s sister to being the woman you can’t live without—your life mate; you must ensure said life mate feels valued and treasured by respecting who she is and what she’s about; odd as it may seem, appreciate tube socks—no matter how they’re worn—and know they always need their own drawer; and finally, don’t be a prideful dickhead. Know that love is worth fighting for, because when your hearts beat to the same rhythm, that’s where true wealth is found.

  THAT SECOND CHANCE

  RELEASING MAY 7, 2019

  GRIFFIN

  “Arooooo woooo!” Brig howls, brandishing a Hand Grenade—New Orleans’ famous green tube drink. “Twenty-one. I am twenty”—he pauses and bends at the waist, bowing to my brothers and me—“one.” Breaking into the Running Man, my youngest brother shuffles along the grimy cobblestones, drunk off his ass, just like the rest of us.

  “He’s twenty-one—buy this man a drink,” Reid, my second-youngest brother, shouts to no one in particular.

  “Buy us all drinks.” Brig twirls in the middle of the narrow, deserted street, arms spread, face cast up to the dark sky. Neon signs advertising big boobs and beer illuminate the area around us, encouraging nothing but high-level debauchery on this densely humid summer night.

  When we told our parents we were going to New Orleans to celebrate Brig, the last Knightly brother to turn twenty-one, they had their reservations. And now that I see Brig and Reid spinning in circles together while the usually uptight and silent Rogan takes video of them, I’m thinking they might have had a point.