Page 6 of My Fiancé's Brother
We ate in silence. I studied him through my eyelashes. “So where are you visiting from?”
“Virginia.”
I wasn’t used to a man giving me so little to work with during a conversation. “Are you just up for a visit?”
“I’m doing a three-month outpatient program at the hospital.”
I eyed him. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him.
“I hope everything is okay.”
He didn’t respond.
“That means you’ll be here for our wedding.”
Green eyes flickered over my face and then dropped to the ring on my left hand. “Matt didn’t tell me he was engaged.”
I could not reconcile Matt with this man. Matt’s friends were smooth and eloquent. They liked to talk about fine wines and the Met. Jackson’s silence made him unique.
He stood up and picked up his plate.
“I’ll do those,” I protested.
He ignored me. I watched in bemusement as he ran the water and then found the soap from beneath the sink. He washed the pan and the three other items in the sink, before picking up a dishtoweland drying them off. He even wiped the length of my countertops. I had never seen Matt willingly volunteer to help with dishes. This guy, who looked like he could kill with his bare hands, quietly tidied up.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and looked towards the door. I knew he wanted to leave. I stood up. “Why don’t I show you your room?”
He turned his attention back to me. Again, I couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“I mean it. I’m not letting you leave here.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
I stood up next to his giant frame. “If you leave, Matt is going to ask me why. And I don’t want to have that conversation.”
The best I got from him was a nod.
He grabbed his duffle bag and then I led him up the steps. I was nervous, and when I get nervous, I babble.
“This is Matt’s room. This is my room. Both our rooms have bathrooms. This is the laundry room. Please help yourself. I’m sorry, but your room doesn’t have a bathroom attached. There’s one in the hall here. And this’ll be your room.”
I pushed open the door and shut my eyes in shame. There was a partially deflated air mattress lying on the floor, an old dresser and a vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room. His eyes looked around the room. “This is fine.”
“Ha,” I said, my face red. “Obviously, I'll get a bed in here.”
“I don’t need a bed. I can sleep anywhere.”
“Well, you can’t sleep on the hardwood.”
“This is fine.”
My eyebrows went up. “I’ll get you a bed.”
Even if it meant I had to drag my own bed into this room.
“You two have separate rooms.”
