“Amy, look.”

I stare harder at the screen, numbers jumbling together. Anything to avoid my brother and his face.

“Look, Amy.”

“You put your straw up your nose, didn’t you?”

I cringe at the squeal of the cappuccino machine across the coffee shop.

He huffs again. “How’d you know?”

Finally, I look up at my brother, who has indeed stuck a paper straw up one nostril. Like a loser.

“I’m pretty sure you shoved your umbilical cord up your nostril in the womb.”

He pretends to be offended. “That’s disgusting.”

I shrug and wave my hand at him because he is the one with the nasal fixation here, not me. “Bro.”

He shifts in his seat, jiggles one leg where it’s crossed over the other. “We’ve been sitting here too long.”

“I’m working. You said you wanted to work.”

“I think I have to pee. I’ve had too much coffee.”

I close my laptop. Balancing the books isn’t going to happen with this chatterbox in my ear. “Stop talking.”

He opens his mouth to argue and I point at him. He snaps his mouth shut.

“Go to the bathroom. Order me a soup and get a sandwich. It’s...” I check the time on my phone and am distracted by a message from Sophie where she’s sweaty and smiling, posing in the mirror with her booty popped and her bicep flexed.

Her: Instagram-worthy? ;)

Me: ok but what if. And hear me out. That one was just for me.

Me: also what if you sent me another one but with fewer clothes on

Her: LOL nice try. And fine. I’ll take another one. That one is yours

“Amy?” Wes waves his hand in front of me. My grin could crack my face in half. “Who are you texting?” He peers over the table and I click my screen off.

“Ahh.” He sits back in his chair, reclining with his hands behind his head and looking too smug for a guy wearing Bert and Ernie socks. “You’re in love.”

I almost drop my phone, catching it then bouncing it between both hands. “I am not.”

The woman sitting at the table beside ours gives me a dirty look. Fair. I was yelling. Putting my phone facedown on the table, I lean forward to give my brother my full attention. “I don’t know where you got the impression that I’m even dating someone, let alone that I am in love with them.”

“Corrine loves to remind me that she and I weren’t dating when we fell in love but the other night at the Hideaway? You and Sophie sure looked like you were dating.”

Siblings were a terrible idea, as a concept.

“We’re...” It’s not a lie to say we’re just fucking. We have sex and we run our business together and I think about her almost constantly. So, okay, maybe we’re not just fucking. We’re doing something together, something big.