The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(106)

He grins. “You’re welcome. I hope we can see each other again.”

I hesitate. Remind myself that a couple of months ago I had a plan for the rest of my life, and it didn’t seem like an illogical plan at all. Find a husband you don’t love too much. Have a baby. And maybe Ethan can get over me faster if I’m dating someone else. If he sees there’s really no possibility for us.

“I’d love to,” I answer, and without any further ado, he kisses me.

It’s fine—a gentle, rather respectful kiss. His lips are smooth and cool. Pleasant. Then he pulls me closer and kisses me more deeply, which is also fine, because now I know he’s attracted to me and not just being polite. It’s not the white-hot jolt I’m used to feeling with Ethan, or the heart-melting sweetness of Jimmy, but it’s not devoid of appeal. It occurs to me that boy, my brain sure is active during this kiss, and maybe I could muzzle my internal panel of CNN analysts and just enjoy. But by then, Matt’s done.

“I’ll call you,” he says again with a Jimmy-ish smile. “Are you free Friday?”

“Friday sounds good,” I answer automatically.

“Excellent,” he says, then turns, shields his eyes with one hand and dashes back into the rain to the car. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Bye,” I call, watching him pull away. Then I turn to go inside and nearly jump out of my skin.

Ethan is standing not twenty feet away, apparently on his way in from the parking lot. Even from here, I can feel the heat in his eyes. I swallow as he starts walking toward me, his movements somehow predatory. He stops a foot in front of me, ignoring the rain dripping off him. His eyes burn into mine, and my breath catches.

“You don’t kiss him the way you kiss me,” he says, his voice low.

My heart convulses in my throat. “I thought you were away,” I croak.

He ignores my comment. “You’re dating him, Lucy?”

I swallow. “Um…this was the first time. But yes.”

A muscle under Ethan’s eye twitches. “Why?”

“He’s…very nice.”

“He’s my brother’s goddamn twin.”

I bite my lip and don’t answer.

Ethan grips my shoulders hard, his jaw tight, his eyes almost black. “I can’t lose you to Jimmy again.”

My throat slams shut. “I…what?”

“Stop looking for Jimmy and see me,” he says. “See me, Lucy.”

“Ethan, I tried with you. I did, but I just can’t—”

“Yes, you can, damn it! Pick me this time, Lucy, and stop chasing Jimmy’s ghost.” He gives me a little shake.

My breath whooshes out of me. “I’m not chasing his ghost,” I say, tears burning in my eyes.

“I loved him, too. I miss him, too. But he wasn’t perfect, Lucy, and you need—”

“Well, he was perfect for me!” I exclaim, my voice cracking. “As you knew he would be, or you wouldn’t have fixed us up in the first place!”

Ethan lets go of my shoulders and looks at me, almost sadly. “Lucy,” he says quietly, “how many college sophomores go around fixing up their older brothers with pretty girls from school?”

My knees wobble dangerously, buzzing with adrenaline. I can only look at Ethan. If I could get a word out of my clamped-up throat, I’d tell him to stop.

“I didn’t think you’d be perfect for him, Lucy. I thought you were perfect for me.” Ethan pauses. “And he knew it.”

“Knew what?” My words are a harsh whisper.

“Knew that I was crazy about you. You were all I talked about. I told him I was bringing a girl home from school, someone special, and—”

“Stop it! Stop, Ethan!” My hands fly up to halt his words. “Jimmy wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t…make a play for me if he knew you—”

“He did.”

“No.” Oh, God, I think I’m about to throw up that mediocre lasagna. The thunder rumbles again, louder this time, and the wind whips cold rain against my burning face.

“I love you, Lucy,” Ethan says quietly. “I always have.”

No, no, no. A thousand memories stab into my brain. The drive back to Providence after that first time at Gianni’s, how I thanked Ethan for introducing Jimmy and me…All those family dinners before Jimmy and I were married, Jimmy and me holding hands, Ethan alone on the other side of the table…The bachelor party when Ethan drove a drunken Jimmy to my house because my fiancé had felt a burning need to serenade me from the lawn at 3:00 a.m. Our wedding! Jesus, Ethan had been the best man…had danced with me at the reception and I never, never…And Jimmy had known?

“That just can’t be true,” I whisper, tears spilling over. “Jimmy loved you. He never would’ve hurt you, Ethan.”

“Lucy—”

“No, Ethan! I can’t just…just rethink everything because you…It’s not true. It can’t be. Jimmy wasn’t like that!” A harsh, hitching sob twists out of me. “Don’t taint my memories, Ethan. Don’t you dare. That’s all I have left.”

He looks away abruptly, and I stare at him, defiant tears snaking down my face amid the cold rain. His jaw is tight, his shoulders set. For a second, he closes his eyes, and when he looks back at me, his face is carefully blank.