Page 29 of Healing the Twin
I blew out a slow breath, even as my heart sped up.
“Hey, Fir!” Tomás called out. “Glad you could make it.”
I made my way over. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Our eyes locked, and a familiar flutter danced in my stomach. Stupid crush.
“We’re gonna go…” Brianna gestured, and she and her husband took off. She winked at me as she walked past me.
“Happy birthday.”
I should’ve kissed him, of course, the same suave greeting Tiago had treated me to, but I didn’t dare. For all I knew, I’d trip over my own feet. Neither my body nor my mind was functioning properly with Tomás around. Instead, I held out the envelope for Tomás.
His big smile made my belly flutter. “You got me a gift?”
“It’s not a standard gift.”
He tore open the envelope, took out the letter, unfolded and read it. He looked up. “Thank you. I…I don’t even know what to say. That’s so thoughtful of you.”
“You’ve mentioned the AIDS foundation several times over the years, and I know you have donated your time and image to them, so I thought that would be a good cause.”
He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. After a second of hesitation, I hugged him back. “Thank you. This means a lot to me,” he whispered.
Thank god I’d gotten it right with both brothers. What did you give two men who already had everything and had the money to buy anything? Still, I’d wanted to give them something, and this had seemed like a nice gesture. I couldn’t be happier with how it had worked out.
He kissed me gently on my lips, then let go. My cheeks grew warm. Had someone seen that kiss? But no one seemed to be looking at us. My skin was still tingling where his fingers had pressed against me, and I took a steadying breath.
“How have you been since the wedding?” I asked.
He winced. “I had the mother of all hangovers the next morning. Jesus Cristo, I thought my head would burst. But I can’t bitch about it because I did it myself.”
I repressed a grin at the sheer misery in his voice. “You sure did. Do you remember us talking?”
“Of course. I wasn’t that drunk.”
“That’s up for debate, but I’m glad you remember. It was…nice.”
He leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip from a can of seltzer. “You’re a good listener.”
“Kinda comes with the job.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t brush it off. I mean it. You listened to me, truly listened, and that’s rare nowadays.”
“Sorry. For deflecting, I mean. Not sorry that I listened.” Jesus, I needed to get my act together. “I was happy to listen, glad to be there for you.”
“You suggested therapy.” He’d lowered his voice.
“It could help to have someone unbiased to talk to, someone who is trained for it and can help you figure things out.”
“But I’m not depressed or anything.”
Are you sure? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. It wasn’t my job to diagnose him. “So? Therapy isn’t only for people who are depressed or struggle with their mental health. I believe anyone can benefit from a good therapist, whether short term or long term.”
“I feel like it’s not serious enough for that, like I’d be wasting someone’s time.”
I put my hand on his arm, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. My eyes darted to his, and he looked startled. Had he felt it too? Nah, that couldn’t be. “You’re never wasting someone’s time when trying to figure out what the next step in your life is. And it’s not necessarily a long-term commitment. Maybe two appointments will be enough to help you get clarity or make a decision.”
He sipped his seltzer, but I left my hand where it was. “Do you think you could recommend me someone?” he finally said.