Her Best Friend's Brother by T. Dell (read the beginning after the end novel .TXT) 📕

guy was ancient! And the way he pawed at her al night! Always touching her arm, or brushing nonexistent hair out of her face. It was positively disgraceful. Tony had barely contained the impulse to grab Libby and run as fast as he could towards the door when he first heard Gio whispering Mia Betta in a lover’s voice. Mia, as in mine.

Wel think again pal, Tony thought, Libby has been mine for years… she just hasn’t realized it yet. She would though.

Tony just needed to find the right way to show her. How could he convince her?

“So… are we here?”

Tony realized they had puled into his driveway, and he wondered how long he had been sitting there spacing out. “Oh, sorry Lib. Guess I’m tired. Yep. This is it.” Tony and Libby had to run for the door. The drizzle from the morning had turned into a shower, and then into a down pour, and now it looked to be progressing toward thunderstorm. Tony’s house was a pretty stone Victorian.

There was a smal covered porch with a white porch swing to the left of the front door. It looked like a home, Libby thought. Inside, Libby looked around and burst into giggles when her eyes rested on the living room.

“And I thought you didn’t have living room furniture!” Libby teased as she plopped down into a plastic lawn chair. One of four set up in the otherwise empty room.

“Wel I didn’t want to brag.” Tony lowered himself into another chair and stretched dramaticaly. “I wil get furniture.” He continued more seriously. “And with this news about my book— money shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

Libby nodded sleepily. “That’s great Tony. You don’t have to defend yourself to the girl living in her stepfather’s sardine can sized guest room. Show me the rest!” She popped up out of the chair.

The kitchen was a warm affair with a big island and it opened into an equaly warm morning room. The baker in Libby noticed the ample counter space, and double ovens.

This was a dream kitchen. Unbidden images of Tony wearing a pink apron and shoveling cookies into his mouth sprung into her mind.

“Can I get you anything? I have juice, and not much else.” Tony poked his head into the fridge. “Sorry. I eat out a lot. There might be some lemonade mix around here.” Tony rummaged through empty cabinets as if sliding their meager contents around on the shelves would produce more appetizing choices.

“I’m good Tony.” Libby wandered around the two rooms. She liked them. She liked the house. There was something distinctly intimate about being here alone with Tony so late at night. It reminded her a little of late night monopoly games—only the feeling was a thousand times more powerful. And then she realized something-- it hit her with a crash! Actualy the crash was thunder outside, but the effect wasn’t lost on Libby. Standing there dripping slightly onto the tile floor, and watching Tony foolishly worry about beverage choices Libby realized that she was Nona.

Tony had ruined her for al future romance. Not even hot Italian chefs who adored her and were wiling to rearrange their entire lives for her, were capable of swaying her heart.

She was going to be in love with Tony for the rest of her life. Damn.

“Wel I promise to make it up to you with the best take out breakfast we can find in the morning.” Tony abandoned his search and turned to find Libby staring thoughtfuly off into nowhere. “You look tired. Want to see your room?”

“Okay.” Libby numbly folowed Tony up the carpeted spiral stairs. Charming she thought. Just like the rest of the house, and just like Tony.

“Wel this is the bathroom—there’s another in the master so you can have this to yourself, and my room is that door there.” Not that she needs to know that. Tony chided himself. “And this is you.” Tony swung the door open to reveal a guest bedroom that was furnished with his childhood furniture from the Marchetti’s.

“No wonder your parents don’t have a guest room anymore.” Libby teased taking a step into the room.

Something wasn’t right. What was that noise? They both saw it at once.

“Shit!” Tony rushed forward feeling the bed. It was soaked. And there was a steady drip coming from the ceiling above. “Oh man!” Tony moaned as he puled the bedding back revealing the soaked mattress beneath.

“Know any good roofers?” He joked lightly over his shoulder.

“Sorry, no.” Libby shook her head. “Is it very awful?” She asked.

“Not as bad as it could have been. The bed is trash, but it probably saved the floor. And I knew the roof needed work. I have just been too busy to look into it.

Guess I should have made time.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Damage control.” He jogged out of the room and returned with a big sheet of plastic, and a large pot. They pushed the bed out of the way, and put the plastic drop cloth in its place to protect the floor if the pot didn’t catch al the drips. Afterwards Tony carried the bedding down to the laundry room.

Having done al they could Tony and Libby stood staring at each other in the halway. Because now there was one bed.

“Sorry about this, Lib. Listen, you take my room.

I’l…”

“Sleep on the couch?” Libby finished for him with a smirk.

“The floor, I guess.” Tony grimaced at the idea.

Libby knew the obvious solution was to ask him to take her back to Stuart’s. But something else had been niggling at the back of her mind since her epiphany in the kitchen—she wasn’t realy Nona because Nona had 16

months of happy memories. So if Libby was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone, she was damned sure going to have at least one memory.

“Can’t we share?” Libby hoped she sounded sultry. She didn’t have much cal for sultry in her life, so she was sort of making