“It’s no problem. We were already running errands, and this way you don’t have to take the bus.” Lainey’s nose wrinkles. She’s not a fan of public transit—not because she thinks she’s above it but because she has an aversion to large crowds and confined spaces.

Lainey asks me how my first day at work was, and if I ran into the-jerk-who-shall-not-be-named. I skirt the uncomfortable parts of that conversation, mostly because the topic makes me want to cry.

Once we get to my brother’s house, I play with Kody while Lainey prepares his dinner. When it’s ready, I put him in his high chair and watch him shove food in his cute little face.

Lainey starts talking about preseason training, because it’s safe conversation and that’s where RJ is right now. She keeps trying to convince me to come to the arena with her, and while I love my brother and I’m actually a fan of hockey, I tend to shy away from attending his games.

I’ve had issues in the past with people using me to get to my brother. Being part of a brand-new expansion team in a city like Seattle is a big deal, so it’s easier if I’m settled with friends of my own and the excitement of the start of the season has died down before I entertain the idea of going to games. I love my brother, and I don’t begrudge him his success, but it can be hard to handle, and sometimes I succumb to inferior-little-sister syndrome.

Lainey gives me a sly look. “A lot of RJ’s teammates are really nice. I know you’re not ready to jump back into the dating pool yet, but there are a few cute ones who are probably close to your age, and single.”

“Thanks, but I have zero interest in dating any of those guys.”

“Dating what guys?” RJ appears in the kitchen, having just arrived home.

“The ones on your team,” I reply.

RJ arches a brow. “No way in hell any of those guys would date you anyway.”

“RJ!” Lainey smacks her spatula on the counter, an inch from his fingertips.

My brother raises both hands in the air. “Whoa, whoa, I don’t mean because you’re not datable, Stevie. If anything you’re too datable.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I’m not easy and I never have been. I get emotionally attached quickly, which isn’t ideal, so I don’t jump into bed with a guy right away, to avoid making it worse for myself if it doesn’t work out.

RJ wraps his arms around me from behind in a big bear hug. “You’ve got the Bowman dimples, Stevie. They’re lethal to the opposite sex. Isn’t that right, Lainey?”

She nods somberly. “The dimples are hard to resist. I think what your brother is trying to say, however ineloquently, is that you’re stunning and he would pull the big-brother card on any guy from his team who tries to date you.”

Thankfully, no one mentions dating or RJ’s teammates as viable options for the rest of the evening. RJ spoils me with unnecessary and extravagant birthday presents and my favorite cake, but the real highlight of my night is getting to put Kody to bed.

It’s late by the time my brother drives me back to the penthouse. “You need me to help you get your rent money back from Assface?” he asks.

Every time he references Joey, it’s with another creative insult.

“I can handle it.” I smile, but it feels flat.

“I know you can, Stevie, but you shouldn’t have to. I really hate that you’re going through this. You can come stay at the house with us so you’re not alone.”

“Uh, that’s sweet, but probably not something you should suggest without consulting Lainey first.”

“We already talked about it. The pool house could easily be converted into a separate apartment, so you’d have your own space.”

The idea of not being alone is alluring, but RJ’s new house is a good forty-minute drive from the clinic, and I don’t have a car; nor do I want my brother to buy me one.

“As nice as the offer is, RJ, you’re newlyweds. I get that you have a baby and that you’ve been living together for a year already, but Lainey mentioned that you’re looking to give Kody a brother or sister, and I would really rather not be in your living space while you’re working on that.”

“It’s not like we’re going to get it on at the dining room table.”

“Not the point, and thanks for the totally unwanted visual. Besides, the penthouse is close to my work. Unless something has changed and I need to find somewhere else to stay?” The thought makes me suddenly panicky.

Despite my loathing of his neighbor and his ridiculous underwear, I’d rather deal with that than apartment hunting. And it would mean having to confront Joey about the rent I paid up front. I’ll take care of that eventually, but I wouldn’t mind a couple of weeks of mental preparation before I have to deal.

“Nothing has changed. The apartment is yours for the season.”

“Okay, that’s great. Can I pay you rent or something?”

“Absolutely not. It’s part of my contract, and it would be sitting empty otherwise, so you can stay rent-free.” He pulls up in front of my building, puts the car in park, and turns on the four-ways. “You want me to walk you up?”

“I’m good, but thanks.” I give him a side hug. “Thanks for dinner, and for the upscale accommodations.” I motion to the building as I get out.

“No problem, Stevie. And if you change your mind about needing my help with the asshole, let me know. I’d be happy to make him crap his pants for you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.”

I use my card to enter the building and then again to get into the elevator, arms laden with bags of presents as I ascend to the penthouse floor. I love my brother, and I know he feels as though he has to step in and be like the dad we both lost a few years ago. Most of the time I need RJ my brother, not RJ the pseudodad, but I don’t know how to tell him that without hurting his feelings.

The elevator dings when I reach the penthouse floor, and the doors slide open as a woman steps out of Jerkwad’s apartment. Her black dress clings like a second skin and doesn’t cover much. Her long dark hair is tousled, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks like she’s been riding the orgasm train very recently. Of course my neighbor is that guy. I bet he’s a walking, talking, womanizing cliché with a flavor of the week.

“Oh! Can you hold that for me?” she calls as she sashays across the foyer.

I don’t know why I would need to hold the elevator for her, since there are so few people who use this one, but I smile, say “Sure,” and keep a hand on the door to prevent it from closing.

“Thanks!” I exit the elevator as she brushes by me, her lipstickless smile firmly in place as she gives me a once-over. “I hope you had as good a night as I did!” She winks as the doors slide closed.

I throw a mental middle finger at my neighbor’s door, irritated that despite his horrendous personality, he’s getting action, and from someone who looks like a model. I assuage myself by imagining that he has a really small penis, even though she looked way too happy for that to be even remotely true.

Over the week that follows, several different women rotate through Jerkwad’s penthouse. I also run into him twice more in the mornings. Well, run into probably isn’t the right phrase. It just so happens that when I’m leaving for work, he conveniently appears in his weird underwear. It seems a lot like he’s flaunting the fact that he has several different women who enjoy riding his joystick. At least that’s what I assume he’s doing. We don’t exchange more than leering glares, so I’m going purely on speculation.