With everyone else, I'm a brick wall.
With my kid sister, I'm a sucker.
I see the lost girl, crying over her mother's death, demanding a place in my life.
Opal was my father's dirty secret. An actual secret love child. Like something in a bad movie.
Opal never believed it. She thought her mom was telling her a fairy tale to make her feel better. That there was no way she really had a rich, powerful father who couldn't claim her.
Then her mom died, and she found out it was true. She discovered every secret. Ran into the light.
That's the only way she's not a Pierce. She embraces the truth.
Everything else—
The demanding demeanor, the charming smile, the intense blue eyes—
She looks so much like our father. It still surprises me.
She has my ability to ask for what I want and Liam's ability to make it sound like a favor.
She has Adam's eye for art and Bash's flair for the romantic.
She annoys me, sometimes, the way Liam does.
But, mostly, I adore her. I want to protect her. See her soar.
She's been here since she was fifteen. She's practically my adopted daughter.
I never thought about kids. Not the way people talk about it. I never asked myself if I wanted to be a father.
It was an inevitability. My duty, to carry on the family line.
After three years as Opal's guardian—
I want it so badly I can taste it.
I'm thirty-two. I'm supposed to be married, with a kid, by now. But then, Dad wasn't supposed to die when I was eighteen.
An accident wasn't supposed to kill Bash and leave Adam in critical condition.
I wasn't supposed to discover an ugly truth.
Shit happens.
I don't make excuses.
This is my choice; to put my siblings first, to put our business second, to put everything else far away.
I know Bash would want something else, want me to forget the strings I'm pulling, take a year off work, fall in love, name my kid after him.
But that was Bash.
I'm no good at love.
These thoughts of Vanessa—
They're ridiculous.
"Oh my god, Simon! Are you still trying to think of a single other woman you want?" Opal shakes her head. "You're usually a better liar."
"I don't lie to you."
"Uh-huh."
I try not to lie to her. Whenever possible.
"Why don't you admit it? You stared at Vanessa all night at the rehearsal dinner. Then at the wedding. At the reception after."
At the gala last night.
Every event between the two.
The lunch meetings, business dinners, corporate parties.
The wedding changed something.
Before that weekend, I thought of Vanessa on occasion. When I saw her at events or recalled our high school competitions (she took top spots in English and History and won every writing contest the school hosted, and she was fast, the best runner on the girl's cross country team).
Late nights, alone.
The memories of her plaid skirt hiked up her thighs.
Her low-cut homecoming dress.
The time I saw her skinny dipping on a shared family vacation.
I wanted her then. I wanted her every time I saw her.
But it was a passing thought, not something I considered.
After all, she saw me as a spoiled rich boy with the world at his fingertips. And I—
Yes, I thought she was stuck-up and self-righteous when we were kids. I hated that she bested me in half our classes.
But I loved that she challenged me, made me better.
I respected her. Admired her. Wanted her.
Knew I could never have her.
Then I made that promise to Bash, and he died and—
That's the last year. Investigating the mysterious circumstances of his death, finding ugly truths, trying to find a balance between revenge and letting go.
The wedding underlined everything.
Life is short.
I owe my brother this promise.
But I did it. I asked her; I kissed her; I fucked her.
That's supposed to be the end.
I'm not supposed to fall asleep imagining her body melting into mine.
"Already?" Opal laughs. "You're already thinking about her. Simon and Vanessa, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."
"I didn't say it was Vanessa."
"You didn't say it was someone else."
"It's none of your business."
"Maybe."
"Maybe it's your business?"
She tastes her food. Makes a hmm face. Pours even more hot sauce. "I'm a concerned sister."
"What's your concern?"
"Your denial. Of your deep and pure love."
"I have deep and pure love?"
"Don't you?"
I almost believe her. Even though I'm incapable of all matters love and affection. All matters beyond a physical arrangement.
Opal is that confident. And that sure of the power of love.
She sounds exactly like Bash.
"She was staring too," Opal says. "Of course, you are very conventionally attractive. It could be that. But I think it was more."
I don't answer. "What do you want to watch tonight?"
She looks at me carefully, deciding if she wants to take the bait. Then she smiles, sure, inspired.
Strange.
Concerning.
She's as stubborn as the rest of us.
She mentions her current teen soap. Swoons over the broken bad boy. Shoots me an I know you're thinking about Vanessa, you're not fooling anyone look.