Dammit.

I can’t let this tempt me.

Even though I am tempted. I have been since I met her a few years after settling into New York City. Having dual citizenship courtesy of an American-born, London-raised father gave me the flexibility to live here, one of the few decent things he managed to pass on. I connected with Malone first, thanks to the softball league we both play on, then got to know his sister soon after.

Seemed a bit like a big “piss off” from the universe to make the sister—twin sister, no less—of a good mate a right fucking fox.

But she is, and she has a fiery personality too, which is an even bigger turn-on.

I resisted for years. And soon, resistance became the norm. It was easy enough to be friends with her, to sign up for crazy, heart-pumping classes together, to run a 5K by her side.

That was how we operated. She was one of the gang.

Until that night earlier this year. She’d suggested we go snowboarding, and naturally, I’d said yes. We’d spent a Saturday shredding the white powder on the slopes a couple of hours away, tackling tough run after tougher run. That evening, still high on adrenaline and black diamonds, we wound up staying the night in her room at the ski lodge.

We didn’t sleep more than an hour.

The next morning, as daylight shone its harsh light on our misdeeds, we vowed never to fall into bed again.

I knew that was for the best, especially after she explained why.

And her reasons are only a few of many that steered me back onto the well-trodden path of resisting her. Now she’s going to help me with my work, which needs all my focus as I finish up these gigs.

I rinse, turn off the shower, and grab a towel. Once I’m dressed, it’s time for business mode, so I put on a button-down shirt—always best to look proper—and log into Skype for a virtual coaching session. When I’m done, I see I have an hour free before I meet Truly.

I decide to give Abby a ring.

Her adorable, freckled face fills the screen. My favorite person looks exhausted, her brown eyes deeply shadowed.

Her brown hair is knotted in a messy bun. She yawns a “Hello.”

“You look completely knackered.”

“Gee, thanks. And you look like shit too.”

“Aww, that’s the sister I know and love. Always ready to sling mud at her poor, beleaguered brother.”

She shakes her head, bemused. “You’re so dramatic. And do you think I don’t know I look like the poster child for Buzzfeed’s List of Top Ten Signs You Need Sleeping Tablets? I’d be one through eleven.”

I shoot her a sympathetic smile. “Few too many late nights dissecting dead bodies?” I shudder reflexively, then hold up a hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me.”

“Good. Because I don’t think you want to know what they make us do in anatomy class.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“But I’m learning tons,” she says with a familiar bright smile. Abby has always come to life in the classroom. Learning is her jam. She rattles off some of the topics she’s studying, and it’s all well over my head, but I nod and say it sounds great.

“But try to get some rest now and then.”

“I will, but in the meantime, if you want to give me any suggestions for new night creams that you’ve found, that would be awesome.”

“What makes you think I use night cream? I’m naturally handsome and glowing.”

“Oh, please. I bet you have a bag full of lotions and potions.”

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s not nice to lie about your older brother?”

She winks. “I won’t tell anyone. C’mon. I know all those face-cream companies send you samples. I read your columns on grooming tips.”

“Learn anything interesting?”

She mimes stroking a beard. “Why, yes. A recent one was interesting: Never forget that a shower always comes first. If you have time for only one grooming ritual, keep it basic—soap and water, rather than mustache or beard oil. But are there truly men who don’t realize that?”

“Abby, have you met men? Wait. Don’t answer that. I know you’re a celibate nun-slash-doctor-in-training. And yes. Men’s advice columns are ridiculously popular because, wait for it, men need advice, even of the most basic sort.”

“Can’t argue with you on that. What’s the latest with you? Are you still the champion of the Manhattan dating scene?”

I pretend to preen, sitting taller. “Naturally. I received an award last week to that effect.” I reach behind me, out of sight of the computer’s camera, and grab a trophy then thrust the cheap blue-and-gold statue in front of the screen. “Impressed now, are you?”

She laughs. “You actually have a trophy. That’s adorable, but what on earth did you do to earn that? Did you join a kickball league? Nab first place in a pie-baking contest?”

I heave an aggrieved sigh. “I can’t believe you’re mocking my pie skills when you were the recipient of all the amazing ones I made as we were growing up.”

She smiles, and it lights up the whole damn screen. “It was rather sweet, watching you help Mum bake and then test them on me.”

“You ate anything.”

“Could you blame me? The two of you could cook. Steak and bacon, chicken and bacon, shepherd’s pie with bacon added because bacon is the best thing ever invented. My stomach is rumbling just thinking of it.”

I cringe. “Bacon, so much bacon. All those years helping her turned me off it. I can barely stomach any meat these days. Fish or bust, I say.”

“Not me. I plan to marry steak. And then date pork and flirt with ham on the side,” Abby says with a dreamy look, as if she’s floating on a whiff of something delicious.

This little turkey loved the meat pies. I’d help Mum bake them, Abby would test them, and Dad would declare them delicious. All was well for years. My parents had an idyllic marriage, or so I thought. So my mum thought, too, until seven years ago. Abby was eighteen, I was twenty-three, and Dad, the bastard, said he’d fallen madly in love with somebody else. It’s no big deal! You kids have left home, and it’s time for me to follow my true heart.

His true heart had a surprise in store for him. After he tied the knot with the other woman, he went about his new life with no regard for any of us, including his ailing mum, and finally lost all the money he’d set aside to help Abby with med school. Turned out his new wife’s true heart was located in his wallet, and she knew how to pry his savings right out of him.

Love is such a ridiculous emotion. It can mess with your head and your life and your entire family.

Abby didn’t ask me to pay her way through medical school. She’d planned to take out loans, but I’ve seen some of my friends strapped with huge debt, and I was in a position where I could likely earn what she needed faster than she could pay it back.

I pat the trophy proudly. “I’ll have you know this was the jujitsu tournament I did with Truly earlier this summer. Came in first place in the men’s, and she was first in the ladies.’ Guess you’re not the only overachiever in the family. But speaking of medical school, I’m really interested in knowing if you’ve learned yet how the leg bone is connected to the ankle bone?”

She stares back at me, putting her eye to the camera lens like she’s peering through a peephole. “No, but I hope to get to that in the next class.”

“Study hard. Be good, don’t do drugs, and don’t date boys.”

“I told you. I’m marrying ham.”