Page 67 of Love: Take Two

I haven't spoken to my brother since that terrible lunch after he got back from his honeymoon. Not unless you count twin telepathy, which I definitely don't. Despite sharing a face, Henry and I couldn't have less in common, and if we could really read each other's thoughts, he never would've said what he did about Awa.

What pissed me off the most was the hypocrisy. He literallymarriedhis paralegal of nearly a decade, someone whoworked directly under him. Even with his name on the door, their relationship cost him three months' suspension for not disclosing to HR. Three months spent hiking and rowing and smelling the proverbial roses, only to come back with the same stick up his ass.

He's my brother. Moreso than any of our other brothers, since we shared a womb. We're identical. We both have a keen fashion sense, even if his is too staid for my tastes. We both chose to hook up with women we work with, for God's sake. Still, those similarities haven't managed to close the gap I've always felt between us.

He's the rule follower; the planner. I've always been more comfortable going with the flow.

He's serious to the point of being severe. I'm outgoing and fun.

He followed in Dad's footsteps, becoming the type of lawyer so famous there are magazine articles about him. Meanwhile, I took the agent route, and all my news is about my clients, their work, or Luxe. Skipping law school was the right call—I would never have survived the endless studying, the demoralizing clerkships, the complete lack of a life—but my decision remains a sore spot. Not just with Henry, but with Dad too.

He loves us; I know that, and he shows us daily, in his stern way. It doesn't mean I don't notice when he and Henry retreat to the study to talk about work, sometimes forgetting to come back for dessert. I see the disappointment in Dad's eyes whenhe looks at me, like all he sees is wasted potential. Inside, behind the smiles and the sharp suits and the free tickets to shows, I feel like the lesser twin, never able to live up to Dad's expectations.

I sigh and take a sip of my ice water.

Henry got Dad's name, and along with it, his holier than thou attitude. I suspect it's why he still thinks he knows best, even after all the mistakes he's made. I'm not oblivious to the pressure he's under. If we'd both gone to law school, he wouldn't be carrying the mantle of being a Park lawyer on his own. If I'd stayed at Yale with him, maybe he wouldn't be so uptight. I would've been there to bring him out of his shell.

And that's why I called him here today. Because even if I could punch his smug face sometimes, he's still my brother, and I need his advice about the woman I like…Maybelove.

"Hey," Henry mutters as he drops into the seat across from me. He orders a sparkling water before the waiter retreats, then unbuttons his jacket. The menu stands between us like a barrier—one of many.

"I was surprised to get your text. I thought you were still avoiding me."

His tone and face are guarded; he looks nothing like a man ready to apologize. Does he thinkI'mthe one who was out of line the last time we spoke? Why would he agree to have lunch if not to apologize?

"Yeah, well," I hedge, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I had a good reason, as you know."

He frowns. I can tell he's gearing up to say something that will really piss me off when the waiter interrupts to take our orders.

"You're seriously still mad about that woman from your job?" he asks once we're alone again. "That wasweeksago. I figured you'd be on to the next by now. You've never been one to follow through before."

Under the table, I'm wrenching my cloth napkin violently. His comment held two insults and was clearly designed to poke at my so-called shortcomings. Well, two can play that game.

"That woman, as you called her, is not from my job," I sneer. "We just both happen to be working on the same film set. It's nothing like when you fucked your subordinate and lied about it to your partners."

Henry's nostrils flare in anger, and I worry we're about to have a screaming match in the middle of Manhatta. I betthatwould get my name in the news! He takes a deep breath before responding.

"I'm going to ignore that childish outburst because you and I both know I paid the price for my actions. That's the whole reason I was warning you; so you wouldn't make the same mistakes." He rakes his hand through his hair, which barely moves under the stiff layer of gel.

"C'mon, Noah. We haven't let a woman come between us since Madeliene Pinkett sophomore year of high school. Is a hookup really worth all this?"

I shake my head, placing my crumpled napkin on the table. I don't know why I ever thought Dad's clone would listen.

"Awa isn't a hookup, and this isn't high school. If you can't be supportive about the woman I'm seeing, there won't be any backyard fisticuffs; I'll just leave, and see you whenever Mom and Dad force all of us to be there. Maybe Easter?"

When I stand up to leave—fuck, I really wanted that sea bass!—the seriousness of my words must sink in. Henry's eyes widen, and that morally superior armor of his finally slips.

"Noah, wait!" he says, rushing to follow me. The waiter chooses that moment to arrive with our meals, and the three of us stand awkwardly for a beat. I stare longingly at the sea bass.

"Noah," Henry says, drawing my attention away from my lunch. His expression is imploring. "The food is here. Let's just eat and finish our conversation."

A few more tense seconds pass before I finally nod and retake my seat. Henry's relief is palpable, and the waiter can't get away fast enough after setting down our dishes.

"So…" Henry starts. "Awa isn't a hookup? You're seeing her?"

"It's complicated," I answer in between bites. "We're having sex, but," I hesitate. "It's more than that. When we're together, I feel things. Things I ignored back in undergrad. Things I wasn't ready for back then."

Henry puts down his fork and sits back in his chair. He gives me a thorough once-over, as if he can see the earnestness in my heart, the conviction in my words.