“Like a model,” I agree.
Evie literally growls, her eyes flashing with anger when she stops to look at me. “You’re making this worse, you know.”
“How? By agreeing with you that my brother’s girlfriend is gorgeous? What’s the big deal anyway, huh, Evie? Why do you care what George is doing or who he’s with? You’re not making much sense right now.”
She completely ignores my questions. “Do you think George is in love with her?”
“If he’s willing to bring her to meet our parents during their anniversary weekend, then yes. I do believe he is in love with her,” I say with complete honesty.
“Oh God.” Evie makes her way to her bed, throwing herself on it like a lovesick teenage girl, lying on her stomach with her face buried in the pillow. “I can’t believe it,” she says, her voice muffled.
“Evie.” I walk over to her bed and grab her arm, forcing her to turn so she can look at me. “What in the world is wrong with you?”
She’s crying. Tough-as-nails, never-takes-any-shit, will-do-anything-to-help-me Evie, is helplessly sobbing right now. “It’s George.”
“What about George?”
“I think—” She takes a heaving breath, a little hiccup escaping her when she exhales. “No, I’m fairly certain that I’m in love with him.”
I gape at her. No. Crushing on him? Sure. Feel a minor attraction toward him? That’s fine. Acceptable.
In love with George?
I think not.
“How in the world are you in love with him? You two literally never speak to each other. Ever,” I say, pausing when I see the guilt flash in her eyes. “Are you two keeping something from me?”
Evie sits up, her gaze imploring as she watches me. “We…we’ve hooked up a few times, me and George.”
“Huh?” I’m not able to comprehend what she’s saying. “How?”
“Do I really need to describe how two adults hook up, Susanna?” Ah, there’s the sarcastic Evie I know and love.
“Of course not! Just…tell me how you two even crossed paths. I only thought you ever saw him when you were with me,” I say.
“You’re right. I’ve only ever spent time with him when I’m with you or your family. I never even really thought about George, you know? He was just there.”
It’s true. George could be like a shadow man sometimes. Always around, someone to count on being there, even if you never spoke to him. He’s quiet, like our father. Thoughtful. Patient. Again, like my father. Handsome, I suppose, though I’m not one to rattle on and on about my brother’s looks. He takes more after Father, with the rich brown hair that can flop in his eyes sometimes and a distinctive nose. Rather tall, over six feet, and lanky. He likes to run and cycle. A bit of a health nut, when I’d rather indulge in sweets. I don’t exercise at all, though I know I should…
“…so I ran into him at a bar a few months ago. Some place that big-wig bankers hang out at, you know? The sort of place that’s dark and sleek and modern, and full of well-dressed blokes with their ties half undone and their hair a mess and eyes bleary after working ten hours straight staring at a computer screen,” Evie explains.
“You go to those sorts of places?” I ask dazedly.
“I live for those sorts of places. All of those uptight business gents looking to unwind. They’re usually full of passion,” Evie says.
I do not want to think about my big brother being full of passion.
“Anyway, I’m at one of those bars and I run into George. He’s with a group of friends and he invites me to join them,” she continues.
“Wait a minute,” I say, interrupting her. “Were you alone?”
She shrugs and looks away.
“Evie,” I draw out her name like I do when I’m chastising her for doing something risky. “You shouldn’t go to the bars alone.”
“You were busy, going on a date with some asshole,” she mutters, her description most accurate. Lately everyone I’ve gone on a date with has been an asshole—with the exception of Cannon. “I had no one else to hang out with.”
My heart breaks a little at thinking of Evie lonely, and me not being there for her.