Tom stares at my Valeska Building Services shirt and I think he bursts a blood vessel. Or chokes himself. Something instant and painful. It’s a huge fluorescent polo in a fabric blend I don’t really care for. It’s unbuttoned at the neck and the top of my bra is showing. This bra is a ten on the Richter scale. I am a bad person. As he watches, I gather the hem and knot it at my hip.

“Looks fine,” Tom says robotically, but I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t just walk over, pick me up over his shoulder, and carry me out.

“Who’s Chris?” Jamie hates being out of the loop. “Why’s he arriving in fifteen?”

I hand the second mug I’m holding to Tom. “He’s reinforcing the foundation on the downhill-slope side. And he’s late. I told him to bring us doughnuts to apologize for his poor time management.”

“I need that so bad,” Jamie tells Tom with a slight tremor in his voice. He holds out two fingers for the coffee mug. “Gimme.”

Sugar is my blood type; caffeine is Jamie’s. It’s the crutch that keeps him upright and functioning. Tom just takes a sip in response. High five.

Jamie huffs. “Where’d you get that?”

“She has a coffeepot in her bedroom,” Tom says, then freezes like he’s busted.

“Okay, thirty seconds.” Jamie makes a beeline to the back door. “There’d better be a third mug.”

“Couldn’t cover that with makeup?” Tom’s looking at the hickey on my neck. “I’m going to have to deal with guys looking at that all day, thinking about you.” A memory eclipses his eyes black. He presses his thumb against it and no doubt feels my pulse. “That’s mine to look at.”

I can’t stop myself from tiptoeing up to press a kiss on his jaw. His stubble is like sugar crystals on my lips. He’s forgotten my brother. He’s forgotten anyone who isn’t me.

“Let them look. I know who gave it to me.”

“They’ll know, too. They’re not idiots.” He looks at the back door and his next words are barely audible. “I can’t believe Jamie’s not picking up on it. Your clothes fall off around me.” His fingernail drags across the corporate embroidery. “Am I a complete animal for loving my name on your chest?”

“You’ve always been a complete animal, Valeska. I’ll explain it to you sometime.” I tiptoe up to his ear. “When I’m wearing this and nothing else.”

I’m wasting time. I only have a minute. I’ve never told a man I love him, and this is the only one I’m ever going to tell. How do I do this right?

“Hey, what you were saying before …” How do I frame it? I’m scared I’m going to open my mouth and scream it in his face. I swallow and huff out a breath. “I wanted to tell you that—”

“I know.” He cuts me off easily and I sink down from my tiptoes. He knows? Or he doesn’t want to hear my cringeworthy attempt at a declaration? He knows I’m emotionally stunted and is trying to spare me. How embarrassing to not be able to match his softness and depth.

He runs a hand down my collar to tidy it but ends up pulling me closer. He bends down to inhale at my neck. “Alex better have washed this shirt.”

“He did. I think.” This is what is easy between us.

The lust. The thought of another man’s smell on me has him boiling down into his base self. It’s palpable; the air snaps electric and I’m desperate for his hands on my skin. He’s hard against me. If we were alone, he’d put me against a wall and himself in me.

We hear my brother grumbling and Tom puts a few feet between us.

“I don’t know how you’re physically capable of this.” I look at the front of his pants. “What does it take to wear you out?”

He’s still looking at his name on me. “Probably impossible.”

One of my knees unlocks at the thought. “Anyway, what the hell? Not a drop from the massive hole in the ceiling, but the kitchen has a water zit?” I point up at the heavy brown bulge on the kitchen ceiling.

Tom shrugs, unfazed. “Welcome to my life.”

“I counted four condom wrappers on the floor. I’m impressed, Darce.” Jamie booms it so loud I hear the flap of pigeons on the roof, and Patty yaps.

Tom melts clean through the floorboards.

“It was nearly five,” I whisper to Tom. “But … priorities.” I remember his hand twisting my hair, tugging on my scalp, begging me. Darce, Darce, no, okay, yes.

I almost feel bad for tormenting him. His coffee is spilling in a thin stream on his boot. Footsteps clomp up the back stairs, heavier than mine but the same cadence. The screen door slaps and Jamie’s back.

“Christ on a cracker, not even I’m that prolific. I’d give him a high five if I wasn’t beating him up. No wonder you were nearing total heart failure.” Jamie shambles in, coffee in hand. “Better let her recover this morning, Tom.”

“Yeah, Tom. Maybe you should go easy on me.” I sip from my highly appropriate mug.

I know this whole situation is high-stakes serious, but I’m hurting from holding the laugh in. “The virginity ship sailed many moons ago. I don’t get why you’re trying to be so macho and brotherly. It’s not impressing Tom.”

“Hey, I don’t see this mystery guy here right now, do I?” Jamie gives me a look and miraculously I don’t crack under it. “Any guy who just walks out on you after that kind of effort is a piece of shit. Can’t you find someone who takes you out for waffles the next day?”

“He definitely would. He’s just … busy. Wait, is that what you do?” I never once found a girl having breakfast in this kitchen. Maybe Jamie’s gotten romantic since moving to the city.

Jamie puts a hand on his hip. “You’re damn right I do. And I’m sure Tom would treat a woman better than that. What would you do if you saw some guy sneaking out of her room in the wee hours?”

Tom looks into his coffee mug, thinking. He can easily pass this test of Jamie’s. His eyes meet mine, and they’re brutal honesty. “I’d fuck him up.”

I give him a withering look.

Jamie nods at Tom, satisfied. “Just get someone decent, Darce. Tom and I want to get wasted at your wedding and grind on your bridesmaids.” He begins dancing, slow and sensual, with his mug held in front of him. He figured out when he was five years old that women love a guy who dances and it’s served him well.

“Check out this body roll.”

It’s a good one. He doesn’t even spill his coffee. Tom and I laugh, which only encourages him. This is what happens at parties. Jamie gets carried away, there’s a ring of people clapping around him, and he ends up kissing a girl against a wall near the bathrooms.

I shake my head. “If you do a surprise choreographed dance at my wedding I’m gonna kill you, Jamie.”

“He would,” Tom agrees, his eyes fond. He loves my ridiculous brother.

Jamie’s grinning. “I’ll do one, with your hottest friend. Who is she?”

“You know who.” I wait and wait, until I’m forced to supply it. “Truly Nicholson, from high school. She’s such a goddamn peach. If I was gay, or the boy twin, I’d marry her.”