Page 123 of In Case You Didn't Know

They all have the good grace to do exactly that.

And then I do it. I look at them, the brothers who’ve always felt so distant but who feel so close right now.

“I’ve been lying to you all. I’m not a barista,” I tell them. “I’m a published writer. I write romance books. I’ve been publishing under a pen name for the last five years.”

There’s complete silence.

The kind you can only get in a room full of men who have absolutely no idea how to process what you’ve just said. I can see Myles’ fingers twitching, like he’s desperate to call his wife for advice.

“Wait,” Linc says. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

I pull my lip between my teeth. It’s so difficult to put it in a way they’ll understand. “I guess at first I was afraid I might fail. And I didn’t want anybody knowing if I did. And then, when they became popular, I was worried…” That they’d interfere. But I can’t tell them that. “I just wanted something that was mine, I suppose. Then the lie grew and it got too big to tell you.” I look at them. “I’m sorry.”

Myles winces. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “That you didn’t trust us enough. That’s on us, not you.”

Linc blinks at me. “What kind of romance?”

I turn to look at him. “Fantasy. Romantasy, they call it.”

Linc nods. “Zoe is into those,” he says, talking about his stepdaughter. “I read one of them on a flight.” He looks at Brooks. “It was dirty as hell.” He starts to laugh and then trails off. “Wait. Are your books spicy?”

It’s so Linc that he even knows the term for sexy books. “Um, kind of,” I admit. “I guess they’re in the middle. But they’re about to get spicier.”

“In the middle?” Myles echoes. “What does that mean? And what the hell is spicy? Are there chilies in it?”

My lips twitch.

“It means it’s dirty,” Linc says, winking at me.

I roll my eyes back at him. He’s really not helping. So I turn to Myles.

“It means my romantic scenes don’t fade to black, but I also don’t write super sexy, descriptive books.” Until now. But we’ll deal with that later.

Brooks snorts into his wine.

“You know we’re going to read them now, right?” Holden asks me. “Allof them.”

“God help us,” Eli mutters.

“My books aren’t exactly written for men your age,” I say, trying to imagine them readingthoseparts.

“That’s ageist,” Linc says. “And possibly sexist.”

“I’m just warning you. You might not see me in the same little sister light anymore.” I then explain to them about the new book, that unlike the others it’ll be in bookshops.

Myles face lights up. “Twisted Publishing?” he murmurs. “I know Alice DuChamps. Maybe I should…”

I narrow my eyes. “No. Absolutely not. If you interfere I will burn this house down.”

Myles lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But if you ever need help…”

I take a deep breath. I know it comes from a place of love. “Thank you,” I tell him. “But I have a great agent and I have this.”

He nods. “Okay.” And then he smiles at me. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

Oh. That sends a shot of happiness straight through me.

“Thank you.” I nod. “That means a lot.”