Jessa James - His Brother's Fiancée

Effie checked her reflection in the elevator mirror as it hoisted her towards the heavens. She hated that she cared, but Thorne had made it clear more than once that he, or really his parents, expected certain things from her.

Like not coming home covered in animal fur, she thought.

When the elevator doors slid open, she reached her hand out automatically for the familiar bronze knob, but the condo was wide open.

“Thorne?” she called out. In one of the back rooms, she could hear the thump of music. Dua Lipa moaned from one of Thorne’s stereo systems. The stupid things that came with price tags so rich Effie could hardly bear to hear the about costs. Especially when Thorne bragged about his latest purchases to friends or posted over-filtered shots on Instagram.

“Thorne!” she called out again.

She made her way down the hall, one side adorned in mirrors and the other a mish-mash of photographs in sterling silver and crystal frames. She knew each of the photos by heart, including exactly where not to look.

In two of the photos, King was there. One of those photos was taken when they were still together, but of course she wasn’t in that photo. It was a family Easter brunch at Alinea in the city. But King had been wearing that shirt she had bought him, just before they’d broken up.

That’s what happens when you date two men from the same family, she thought idly. It makes family photos awkward, to say the least.

Effie let her eyes slip past the formal engagement photos of her and Thorne. Her mom and Yaya had the same ones in their little tucked away house. They were beautiful photos, but she could swear the couple in them was foreign to her. Their matching fake smiles looked picture perfect, though.

The music got louder as she approached the master bedroom with its door slightly ajar.

“Thorne?” she asked as she pushed the door open. She saw his broad, naked back perched on the edge of the bed. “What are you—”

He turned sharply just as a girl raised her head from between his legs. The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as Thorne released the girl’s hair from his fist.

“Effie! What the hell— why aren’t you at work?”

“ Me ?” she asked, surprised by how small and tight her voice was. “What are you… who is she?”

“What’s going on?” the girl asked as she scrambled for something to cover herself with. Effie couldn’t tear her eyes off her. It was like looking in a mirror. The same thick, reddish brown hair. The striking blue eyes. The same full breasts.

“Thorne, what the fuck?” the girl screamed. “You said you broke up!”

“I— I never said that,” Thorne said. He looked between the two of them. “Effie, you have to believe me, I never said that—”

“I don’t care what you said,” Effie said. She wanted to scream, to cry, but everything just felt stuck in her chest. “I don’t care what you told her! Why are you… how long… never mind ,” she said. “Forget it.”

Effie turned and slammed the door. As she barreled down the hallway, she could hear the girl screaming and glass shattering.

Get him, she thought to herself. If she couldn’t bring herself to show the rage he deserved, let her look-alike do it.

She locked herself into the library and grabbed one of the leather duffel bags out of the closet. Effie hadn’t realized until that moment that the things that were really hers, what she adored the most, Thorne had designated to the smallest spare room in the condo. It was basically a closet, albeit a beautiful one. She shoved her USB sticks and laptop into the bag, the bottle of perfume her Yaya had brought back from Greece years ago, and the stack of her favorite romance books.

Forget the clothes and the makeup, she thought. Just get out.

As she zipped the bag and left the library, she could still hear the two of them going at it in the bedroom. She couldn’t tell whether they were fighting or fucking, but she didn’t care. She needed to get away, as soon as possible.

Effie pounded her thumb against the elevator button. Tears started to prick at her eyes, but she’d be damned if she would cry until she made it to the car.

“Effie!” she heard Thorne yell as he started down the hall after her, his footsteps heavy. “Effie, stop! Let’s talk about this, this is being taken way out of context—”

Please close, she prayed as she watched him turn the corner towards the elevator, naked and still half-hard. Please close.

As if it were in a perfectly timed movie, the elevator slid shut when he was inches away.

Effie ran to the car, hood down, and let the demanding Illinois rain pound at her head. She locked the door immediately and pulled away from the curb without looking. Behind her, a horn blared and she saw a white Escalade veer to the left to avoid hitting her.

“Three years,” she said aloud as she wiped at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “Three goddamned years.”

It was a long time to spend, to waste, on anyone. And that was after dating King all of high school!

Oh, the years I have thrown away on the Smith brothers. Damn them both.

“I’m a freaking moron,” she said, thinking that she needed a drink.

Effie searched the little artisanal boutiques in Thorne’s neighborhood for some kind of bar. Anything that didn’t have twenty dollar cocktails and entrees that cost an entire day’s pay would do. But there was nothing in Thorne’s hoity-toity neighborhood that even came close to what she needed right now.

Actually, what she needed most was just somewhere to disappear.

Finally, she pulled into a little tapas place advertising happy hour. Effie parked in the far back of the lot and watched as impeccable couples squealed as the valet opened doors with expansive black umbrellas.

She couldn’t get the image of that cheater out of her mind. The thought of her lookalike peering over the top of Thorne’s thigh made her eyes well up. She felt rage building in her chest, scraping at the lining of her throat, desperate to escape.

“How could you do this to me?” she screamed into the empty cabin of the car. Finally, her voice had arrived.

She hadn’t been stupid. She knew that when Thorne first approached her it was to get under King’s skin. After all, she and King had only broken up the month before.

There she was, sitting at a Starbuck’s, staring into her drink. Thinking of how King had never even called or wrote in the month since he’d left.

He’d forgotten all about her, even though he’d called her the love of his life. So when she saw his big frame that day…

She could admit to being more than a little crushed to realize that it was Thorne. And he’d come looking for her with a proposition.

Effie had to admit, part of her liked the idea. She’d reveled in it a little. If she and Thorne could both piss off King, why not?

It’s not like King was standing around waiting for them. He was long gone.

They hadn’t ever said anything about it aloud, but it was a kind of unspoken agreement. Then things got more complicated. Messier.

When Thorne said he loved her three months in, she said it back because they were already in the thick of it. Plus, her mom pushed her insistently in his direction.

“But he’s King’s brother!” she’d argued. She remembered the night clearly. Effie was still in her high school graduation robe.

“So what?” her mom asked. “You and King, it was nothing. Puppy love. Thorne is the respectable one. The mature one. And his family already loves you!”

“Mom—”

“Relationships aren’t just about two people,” her mom said, which made Effie clamp her mouth shut.