He didn’t hate her guts. Not even close. Although sometimes he thought he should. The woman could be downright witchy, and was so rigid, she was one good tantrum away from exploding into a million pissy pieces.

But she could also be sweet. Not to him, of course…never to him. But he’d spent enough time watching her over the years to know that she helped old ladies take grocery bags out to their cars, and went on a fishing trip with her dad every summer even though she hated fishing. He’d also rummaged through her mail under the guise of pissing her off, and knew that she contributed to about nine hundred different charities.

She was also funny as hell, assuming one liked the prickly, caustic type of humor. He did.

None of that explained why he was completely, irrevocably wrapped up in her, but he was. Had always been.

He’d been sixteen, and he’d simply known. Known that she was the one. Even when she was busy tearing his heart out.

Will sighed and resigned himself to coming clean with Sophie. “How did you find out?”

He’d been so fucking careful. Then again, moving next door to the woman perhaps wasn’t the height of stealth.

Sophie fiddled with the case of Psycho. “I wish I could say that as your closest friend, I’ve known all along. But the truth is, I didn’t really have a clue until her birthday party the other night. When James handed Brynn that jewelry box, and we all thought…Well, I saw your face.”

Will winced. “Was it that obvious?”

She shrugged. “To others you probably just looked disgusted. But as someone who knows you best, you looked…devastated.”

“I wasn’t devastated,” he said. “Quit making a frigging soap opera out of this.”

“Use whatever man-phrase makes you comfortable,” Sophie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The point is, I saw you. It’s why I called you immediately after you headed out. To let you know it wasn’t what you thought.”

“Thanks for that,” he said quietly.

Those moments after he’d walked out of the party thinking he’d lost Brynn for good had been some of the worst of his life. He’d seen Brynn in a white dress walking toward someone who was not him, and it had clawed at his chest like a heart attack.

Sophie’s phone call had come just in time to stop him from getting good and thoroughly drunk.

“Although, to be honest,” Sophie was rambling, “I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before. True love hiding behind the squabbling couple is like the oldest romantic-comedy trope there is.”

“Except in the chick flicks, it’s generally mutual,” he said, leaning down to pick up the shattered picture frame.

“True,” she said, coming over to help grab the bigger pieces of shattered glass. “But you have a plan, right? That’s why you moved back? That’s why you moved here?”

Will grunted. It was bad enough to know his secret was no longer a secret. He really wasn’t in the mood to have a pow-wow about it, even with Sophie. Especially with Sophie. She was Brynn’s sister, and as much as he trusted her…

“Soph, you won’t say anything, right? To Brynn? Or even to Gray?”

She hedged slightly. Secrets had never really been her forte.

“Please, Sophie. Just give me a little time.”

“But I could help! I could play matchmaker, but be supersmooth about it.”

Will gave her a look. She was about as subtle as a battering ram, which she knew full well. Smooth was absolutely not in her repertoire.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll keep out of it. For now. But Will…” She stood, gingerly holding shards of glass with the tips of her finger. “You know that I’m rooting for you, but if she doesn’t feel the same way…”

“She’s a big girl, Soph,” Will said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I know,” she said, with a lift of her shoulder. “But she’s fragile under all those matching outfits, ya know?”

Actually, he didn’t know. Brynn had always been so damn flawless. But he’d always suspected that there was some piece of her that he was missing. All her die-hard dedication to perfection had to come from somewhere, he’d just never been able to figure out where.

Probably because they hadn’t had a civil conversation in…ever.

“Fragile how?” He knew he was prying, but the cat was already out of the bag. Might as well get a little information out of it.

Sophie was silent for several minutes. “Maybe ‘fragile’ wasn’t the right word. Brynn would kill me just for saying the word. But sometimes I think she’s made it her life’s mission to erase an imperfect childhood by being a perfect adult.”

Will took a sip of wine. “By ‘imperfect,’ I’m assuming you mean she once placed second in a spelling bee and never forgave herself?”

Sophie gave him a look. “You have seen some of our old photo albums, right?”

“Yeah, because that’s what every heterosexual guy longs for. To rummage through his friend’s family albums.”

“Well, if you had seen them, you’d know that Brynn hasn’t always been quite so…”

“Prim? Humorless? Slightly dead behind the eyes?”

“Well, I can tell you two are going to have sweet pillow talk,” she said. “Let’s just say she didn’t exactly hit the beauty-queen jackpot.”

Will’s eyebrows crept up. He hadn’t met Brynn until she was a little freshman hottie. He’d never done much thinking of what she’d been like before that.

“So? We all had awkward years,” he said with a shrug.

Sophie licked her lips and looked pained. “Brynn’s was more like an awkward decade. Actually, ‘awkward’ doesn’t even cover it. She was my big sister, and I idolized her because she was funny and sweet, even if she was a little—okay, a lot—overweight, and she was shy, and she had this gap the size of Africa between her teeth, and…”

Will held up his hand with a half laugh. “Tell me you have a picture of this. I can’t believe all this blackmail material was right at my fingertips and I didn’t even know it.”

Sophie was in his face in a flash. “Don’t you dare, Will. I know you two like your games, but don’t touch those years. Seriously.”

His smile faded.

Whoa. What is going on here?

“We’ve all got a few rough memories,” Sophie said more softly, “but kids can be cruel, and Brynn got more than her fair share of it.”

The pieces began fitting together and Will felt something tighten in his chest at the thought of a chubby, awkward Brynn who would have wanted so badly to fit in.

“How am I just now finding this out?” he asked softly.

“Well, gosh, I can’t imagine why Brynn wouldn’t have shared all this with you while you were torturing her,” Sophie muttered.

“Okay, in my defense, by the time I met the girl, she was queen of her freshman class.”

Sophie shrugged. “On the outside, sure. Inside she was still Dumpy Dalton. That’s what they used to call her.”

Will rocked back on his heels. Christ.

He swallowed dryly. “Soph, you ever wish you could go back and do things all over again? I mean, like all the way?”

She gave him a look. “Will, my husband once assumed I was a Las Vegas hooker. So no, of course I wouldn’t want a do-over.”

He smiled slightly at her sarcasm, but his mind was already back on Brynn. For the first time, he was finally starting to see things the way they really were.

And a part of him—a big part of him—wanted nothing more than to cradle her to him and tell her that she was not that little girl anymore. That she didn’t have to try so hard.

But the smarter part of him knew that Brynn Dalton would take anything looking even remotely like pity and shove it up his ass.

He’d have to stay the course. At least for now.

Sophie’s eyes narrowed on him. “Oh God. I know that look. You’re planning.”

“Maybe,” he said, giving her a boyish grin. “Would that be so bad?”