Page 2 of Ethan & Grace

Why do you always have to provoke him?

Me:

Provoke? Can I help it if Britney’s not into him?

James:

Maybe not, but you could have picked some other girl.

Me:

But I didn’t want to.

James:

Forget it. You’re hopeless. Want to go for brunch before I head back to Cambridge?

Me:

I was going to go to the gym.

James:

Jesus. Why do you hate yourself?

It was an excellent question, one I’d rather not answer.

Me:

No pain, no gain.

James:

Have fun torturing yourself. I’m going for brunch. Bye!

I wished him a safe drive to Cambridge, and then forced myself to head down to the hotel gym, resisting the urge to go back to bed. I had a gym of my own in my penthouse, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea to work out alone in my condition. I might have been masochistic, but I didn’t have a death wish.

With a bottle of water in one hand and a towel slung over my shoulder, I followed the corridor to the lifts. The top floor of The Darlington was completely silent. Thankfully, it was a private floor with no guest rooms, unlike the rest of the hotel. There were only four penthouse flats: One belonged to my parents; one to my eldest brother, Henry; one to me; and the fourth was unoccupied. There were also a few rooms for family guests, but as both my mum and dad were only children and my grandparents were dead, they were rarely used.

With a melodic chime, the lift announced its arrival, and the doors slid open. For a split second, my foggy brain was convinced I’d come face-to-face with a mirror before I realised I wasn’t looking at my reflection but at Henry standing in the lift. We looked almost identical with our black hair, ice-blue eyes, and striking features, which we’d inherited from our dad.

“Hey,” he greeted me.

“Hey,” I returned.

Although we were only six years apart, there was no real sense of brotherliness between us. We’d never had the chance to really get to know each other, and over the years, the rift had only grown wider. Part of me wished we were closer, but that would require a level of honesty and openness I wasn’t willing to give right now.

Henry stepped into the lift doorway, blocking my path. I didn’t like how closely he was studying me, but I still held his gaze, examining him in return. Although in reality, there were only minor physical differences between us—he was a little taller, whereas I was slightly broader—in that moment, we looked completely different. He was neat and put together in his tailored suit; I, on the other hand, not only felt like shit but probably looked like it too, with my pale skin and the dark circles under my eyes.

“Do you have a minute?” Henry asked.

I crossed my arms. “Depends what for.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Am I in trouble?” If I was, I didn’t want to know.

“No.”