Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,5

I growl at him on behalf of Brock who’s not a fan of the feline.

The last time we went to visit Ford, he let the cat into the house and that creature kept taunting my poor guy.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“She’s with her publisher,” he answers, checking his watch and then glancing at me. “Look, I know you want me to go to the office, but would you mind if we do it tomorrow? I need to know what happened with her book deal.”

His request annoys the fuck out of me. Sighing, I walk to my computer, switch the username to mine, and pull up the NDA contract so I can print it.

“I wish we had planned this visit,” I confess, turning to the printer and grabbing the papers. “Listen, before we discuss the next three days at the office, let’s go through the NDA. It’ll be nice if she could sign it today before things go any further.”

Ford and I tell each other everything. I know he hasn’t professed his love to her, but I also know he will be doing so within the next hour or whenever she comes back to the house. If I can get ahead of the game, I’ll be able to sleep peacefully tonight.

“No,” he barks.

“Ford, I get it you’re in love but—”

“Stop, Nate.” He lifts a hand, showing me his palm as if he’s stopping traffic. “What Persy and I have is special, and I don’t want to treat it like some kind of business transaction. I understand your hesitation and I appreciate your concern.”

“She’s a fucking influencer, Ford,” I remind him as my pulse elevates and my throat dries from the rush of breathing. “You can’t possibly believe that your picture won’t be on her social media feed the moment you kiss her. This will help you prevent it.”

“I trust her blindly,” he declares, and I feel like he punched me in the gut. Which is when he amends, “You’re my twin, but she’s my soulmate. I understand why you’re asking me to do this, but she needs to know that I trust her with my life.”

Is she taking my place?

This is it. We’re still brothers, but he has someone who’ll come before me. And I know him well enough to understand that no matter what I say, he won’t make her sign shit. He’s never been like this—in love.

What am I supposed to do now?

I could remind him that being in love doesn’t guarantee happiness. Having someone to trust doesn’t mean that she’s trustworthy. Feelings have an expiration date. We lived it with our parents’ marriage. I lived it with… It’s not worth the trouble to even remember my past.

Should I just let this one play out on its own?

This kind of flight doesn’t include a parachute and it should always include a partner. We jump and hope that the other person will hold onto us. That we’ll glide together until the end of time, or forever, if that exists.

More times than not, that’s not what happens. One person always leaves or doesn’t even jump, and we don’t realize it until it’s too late. I’ll have to wait close by then. When he falls to the ground, I’ll be there to pick him up and salvage what’s left of his life from the wreckage.

Poor Langford Chadwick, he’s about to smash his head against the concrete. I wonder if his heart will survive. In most cases, hearts shatter and it’s impossible to put them back together. I speak from experience.

This is almost like looking at a teenager about to crash his first motorcycle against a parked car. We can’t take our eyes away from the disaster. We can’t prevent it. Most of all, we know the damage is going to cause internal bleeding. However, the only way to learn how to drive or in this case, have a relationship, is by getting fucked for the first time.

“You don’t approve,” he confirms, his eyes stare at me pleadingly. He needs me to drop the subject and just support him.

“I’ll be here,” I offer.

“Thank you, though you don’t sound thrilled about it,” he answers. “I thought your motto is, ‘Don’t hesitate to explore.’”

“This isn’t exploring. This is diving into a ditch. You should learn from my experience. Been there, done that. I have the freaking T-shirt, the fucking pictures, and the shards from the wreckage as a souvenir,” I remind him.

“Try therapy, it might be worth it. Persy has a book on how to