The Wrong Brother

Chapter 3

IRIS

Sunday may be my only day to sleep in, but my body refuses to get the memo. On the bright side, Nia will be sleeping in until at least ten, as will Jade. Heck, sometimes Jade isn’t even home on Sunday mornings depending on how her Friday nights go. 

She’s my best friend and has been since we were in middle school. Jade moved here in the middle of the seventh-grade year. We had the same science class for the first period and I happened to be the only one without a table partner. The teacher assigned her to sit by me and the rest was history. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her and the same can be said for Jade. This might even include TPing her boyfriend’s house sophomore year when he broke up with her and pretending to be a lesbian couple anytime a creepy guy gave us too much attention in college. Jade sat with me after I peed on that stick that told me I was pregnant with Nia and then a few weeks later when I finally told my parents.

We’re different in a lot of ways. She’s the extrovert to my introvert. She’s always been more outgoing, still enjoying the club and bar scene at twenty-eight. I was more studious in college, but then again I had a lot more riding on good grades and that diploma. I love being a mom, but the only thing Jade ever wants to be is the fun, childless auntie. She’s perfect for the role. Nia’s father may have left me high and dry, but in many ways, she’s still being raised by two parents.

That doesn’t change the fact that my best friend and roommate is not a morning person. That means I get to spend my Sunday mornings in peaceful silence. It is one of the few times I scroll social media without feeling guilty that my time is better off used somewhere else. That’s why I found myself curled up on the couch with a mug of coffee and the dating app my darling friend made me download the other night. 

To say I am disgusted by the messages from the last thirty-six hours would be an understatement. There are so many red flags I’m beginning to think I stepped foot inside the Republic of China instead of my home here in the Arizona suburbs. After a dozen messages or so, I just start deleting them without opening them. This was a horrible idea. Even if I was considering a quick hook-up just to do something with my vagina before he shrivels up and dies, I don’t think this app is the way to go. Why would I trust a man in the bedroom when I couldn’t even trust me with an open drink?

I was mindlessly deleting messages when a name caught my eye. Monty. I’m sure more than one Monty exists in the world, but what are the odds? I click on the message to open it, bracing for a picture of a one-eyed snake, but I’m pleasantly surprised when it is, in fact, a message from Monty King.

Monty: Well, well, fancy seeing you on here, Iris.

Jesus, I haven’t seen Monty in more than ten years. By the time I started hanging out with Maddox, Monty was already out of the house, serving in the military. Over the time we dated, he came home on leave, but he was never around more than a couple of weeks. Yet here I am, smiling at the simple message that he sent me. Curiosity gets the best of me and I click to look at his profile. 

Damn. My memories of how he looked ten years ago are fuzzy, but I do remember that he was a good-looking guy. Maddox and Monty were both blessed with some excellent genes, but I’m pretty sure this man has just gotten finer with age. His eyes were brown, but somehow were also bright and captured my attention. His caramel skin was a mix of his dad’s lighter complexion and his mom’s darker. I was familiar with the tone, being of a similar mix myself. I only felt a small pang of guilt as I swiped through the half-dozen pictures he had uploaded to the app. In the only full-body picture, I got the chance to see both arms and one of his legs covered in tattoos.

A nagging voice in the back of my head tells me that ogling at my ex-boyfriend’s brother is completely inappropriate. I push her aside though. Maddox made his choice years ago and a lady’s got eyes, you know? I clicked back to the inbox and read his message again. Those few words he left are making me smile, I clearly do not get enough attention from men. Considering I work with men forty hours a week, you’d think I get enough. The guys at the construction company? They are either old enough to be my dad or have taken a big brother role. Kind words from a man who isn’t checking to make sure my tire pressure light didn’t come on during my drive to work are making me a little crazy. I’m never impulsive, at least not anymore, but I decide to call upon my inner-Jade and send a quick message back.

Me: Monty King as I live and breathe. Surprised you recognized me after all these years.

I set my phone down so I’m not tempted to try and figure out a way to unsend the message, but to my surprise, my phone dings just a few moments later.

Monty: You’re not a face that a man could really forget about.

What the hell is he saying? Is he flirting? God, it sounds like he is flirting. How am I supposed to handle THIS? I was just going to send a cute message back. I didn’t expect a response, especially not THAT one.

Me: It’s been ten years, maybe more.

It’s a weak reply, but it’s all I’ve got.

Monty: I said what I said, Iris.

I bit on my bottom lip as I read his messages over and over. Now I wish Jade was awake so I could ask her what to say. Chat bubbles pop up again, Monty is already writing a message back.

Monty: I wouldn’t normally suggest this, but if I gave you my number, would you text? I’d rather catch up there than on this app.

Me: Anything to get off this app. I’m dodging dicks left and right in my messages.

Monty: I don’t even know what to say to that.

The next message includes his phone number. The thrill is powerful, but I don’t want to seem too needy so I refill my coffee and grab an oatmeal bar before heading back to the couch and sending him a text.

Me: Hey, it’s Iris. 

Monty: I was worried you were going to chicken out on me. What’s up with Iris? I was expecting you to be off doing bigger and better things by now, but your profile said you’re still in state.

Me: Still living in Chandler, pathetically close to my parents. You? I heard rumblings a few years ago that you were overseas.

Monty: Did a few stints overseas, but now I’m back in Arizona. Just not in the army anymore.

Me: Ahh, so you’re just a mere mortal now?

Monty: Something like that. 

Monty: So tell me how somebody like you ended up on that trash app?

Me: Trash app? The same one that you were on?

Monty: I’m a man, Iris. We are, by definition, trash.

Me: You won’t hear any arguments from me.

“Mom?” 

I jump at Nia’s voice and clench the phone against my chest. I was so involved in this back-and-forth that I didn’t hear her come down the hallway or enter the living room. I give my phone one more glance but don’t see a new message from Monty just yet so I tuck it next to me to give all of my attention to my girl.

“Good morning, you’re up early, is everything okay?”

I open my arms and she falls into my lap. Some days she seems just a skip to her teenage years, but anytime she cuddles into my lap, I remember that she’s still a kid and she still needs me. Nia covers her mouth and yawns and then rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m tired, but I’m also hungry. Can we make scrambled eggs?”

My phone dings, but I ignore it for now. It’s just a text message, he’ll understand if I don’t reply back instantly. “Why don’t you grab the bowl and whisk and I’ll get the pan heated.”

“Do we have any bacon?”

“Hmm, I don’t think we have bacon, but we have some ham deli meat left over that we could chop up and mix in.”

“Well, it isn’t bacon, but it’ll do.” Nia untangles herself from my arms and I grab my phone to see his latest message.

Monty: I’ll just have to fight the good fight so you don’t think I’m too much trash.

Me: Give it your best shot, soldier. I’ve got to do some things, but maybe I can text you another time.

Monty: Of course, Iris. Wouldn’t even mind a phone call next time if you want.

Me: I’ll think about it. Have a great day, Monty.

Monty: You too, sweetheart.

There should not be swarms of butterflies in my stomach right now. What am I thinking? I decide right then and there that a flirty phone relationship with Montgomery King is where I have to draw the line. It can never go further than that. Not for my sake, but especially not for Nia’s. One King brother has already let me down. I refuse to make it two.