Part One
Fox
I've always known that my brother is a complete and utter idiot. I think I first realized this when I was six and he was 10, and he had spent nearly three months putting together this really boring model sailboat. I mean, it didn't even have a moving sail or rudders or anything. It was supposed to just sit there and look nice or something, I guess. But, anyway, I decided that the sailboat needed to go on its maiden voyage.
In the duck pond near the edge of our families' property.
It sank.
When Ethan found out, he didn't start screaming at me, or try to beat me up, like most normal ten-year-old boys would.
Instead, he ran to our mommy dearest, and started bawling his eyes out.
Friggin' wimp.
And when a tearful Ethan dragged our mother to Aunt Sheridan's room, where I was hiding (and having fun taking a pair of scissors to a few of her new ball gowns), I laughed.
Hard.
In his pudgy face.
I was six years old, and had just come to the realization that my brother was a loser.
It was a liberating experience, in truth, because until that moment, I had always looked up to my big brother.
But after that...
I pitied him.
Ha Ha.
After that day, I always marveled at how things came so easily to such a moron.
He graduated from Harvard Law, with honors. (I still wonder how much Grandfather had to pay the school for that amazing feat).
Our family- not to mention the WORLD- adored him. (I guess when you are the heir apparent to the Crane Family, the first born son, being loved is a given. But you have to work for that love if you were conceived one night during a drunken rendezvous that was brushed aside the next morning as a terrible mistake.)
He always had a steady stream of women wanting to be near him. (How? Why? I guess women like to be with brainless pushovers or something. Who the hell knows?) But he did the honorable thing, and picked only one at a time.
He was the Prince. And I was the... scullery maid. Well, probably lower than the scullery maid. Maybe the dust particles that scullery maids push around, trying to make invisible.
Like I cared.
Well, anyway, back to Ethan the Perfect.
Growing up, Ethan had chosen to be with Gwen(ch?) Hotchkiss. Every conversation, every Society Magazine, it was 'Ethan and Gwen' this, or 'Gwen and Ethan' that.
I called them 'Gwethan'. 'Gweebie' for short.
It pissed everyone off.
Imagine that.
And then, one day not too long ago, it suddenly became 'Ethan and Theresa'.
But never 'Theresa and Ethan'.
That should have probably been clue numero uno that things weren't going to work out between them.
Theresa was never considered an equal in the partnership. Not by my parents, not by her family. Not by Ethan or Theresa themselves.
They all viewed Theresa as being less than Ethan.
Maybe it their age difference.
Maybe it was the fact that Theresa's mother was our families' housekeeper.
Most likely, though, it was because Theresa was poor. Didn't come from a 'respectable' family... meaning a family with money.
For whatever reason, Theresa was never viewed as anything other than Ethan's fiancé. The girl who broke up Gwethan.
Ethan's ideal of perfection, placed upon a pedestal, only to be looked upon, never to be known.
She was dreamy, daring, gorgeous, and talented.
But best of all, she was innocent. Untouched. Untainted.
Or so everyone thought.
One big mistake changed that view.
When Theresa fell from that pedestal, the life that Ethan and Theresa had built for themselves was destroyed.
Ethan was in love with Theresa.
Theresa was in love with Ethan.
And then Ethan proceeded to do the most idiotic thing of his entire life.
He let Theresa go.
"She schemed," he said to anyone who would listen, when asked of their demise.
"She plotted," he whined to mother and Gwen, only adding fuel to their hatred towards Theresa.
"She lied," his head whispered to his heart every night in the dark, when sleep couldn't come.
But Ethan failed to see the truth in Theresa's so called 'manipulations'.
That everything she did, she did out of love for HIM.
What a luxury it must be, to be able to so easily toss aside the love someone has given you because that person failed to meet your standards.
I wish that I had that luxury.
But, I'm not Ethan, the first born son.
I'm Nicholas, the alcohol induced accident.
My entire life, I've known that my big brother was an idiot. I've stood in the shadows, unnoticed, observing the Prince in action.
Ethan never wanted for anything. Should he want, it was his in a second.
Ethan never had to try. There was no reason for him to.
Ethan never had to be something he wasn't, because he was Ethan Crane, heir to the Crane Dynasty.
Standing in those shadows, I've felt a range of emotions towards Ethan, from joy when he would do something completely stupid, to anger when no one would notice his stupidity. The most prevalent feeling, though, has always been pity. Yeah, I'll say it again: I pity Ethan!
What a life it must be, to not take any risks, and not have any fun.
I especially pity the dumb ass for being born without a brain.
That must truly suck.
But the one feeling Ethan has never provoked from me is jealousy. I'm sure there have been pangs of longing, easily brushed aside as I whipped out a wad of cash and chipped away at my families' fortune. I've always seen my brother for the person he really is. I've looked passed the gleaming smile, the Harvard education. I've seen through the façade.
Without the last name Crane, there is not much there.
I can honestly say that I have never wanted to be Ethan, or envied what he had.
That is, until earlier this evening.
At dinner.
When Theresa walked into the dining room, her hair falling in soft curls around her shoulders. Her pale pink dress clinging to every curve on her body. Her magnificent eyes lighting up at the mere sight of Ethan, then falling lifeless as they turned on Gwen.
Her weak smile of acceptance as she settled into the seat beside my father, her husband.
As soon as she stepped into the room, every nerve my body went on overdrive, something that is becoming habitual, yet something extremely easy to play off, to not think about until bedtime, when counting sheep is no longer working.
But then I offered to pour her a glass of wine, which she graciously accepted. Leaning forward to hand me her glass, a single curl fell upon her face, which she laughingly brushed aside. And when the glass met between her hand and mine, our fingers collided, softly, just a whisper of a graze. Her huge brown eyes caught mine, bringing a smirking smile to her face.
At that second, I knew.
I'm not infatuated with Theresa Lopez- Fitzgerald- Crane.
I'm in love.
And for the first time in my life, there is nothing more that I want than to be my brother.
Because Theresa is in love with him.
hr
Theresa Crane sighed wearily as she placed her son into his crib.
Living in the Crane Mansion was beginning to take its toll on her. Every day, it was becoming more and more difficult to remember who she truly was.
Theresa Lopez- Fitzgerald.
Dreamer.
Believer.
"But, it's worth it, Mi Hijo," she whispered lovingly to Ethan Martin, bringing her hand down and tracing the shape of his face. A huge smile erupted on his face, and a chubby finger latched onto hers. "It's worth it for you."
"All through the night, I'll be standing over you
"All through the night, I'll be watching over you
"And through bad dreams, I'll be right there baby
"Holding your hand, telling you everything is all right
"And when you cry, I'll be right there
"Telling you you were never anything less than beautiful
"So don't you worry
"I'm your Angel standing by."
"Your voice alone could make the Angels in Heaven envious."
Fox Crane's smooth whisper nearly caused Theresa to jump out of her skin.
"Fox! You scared me!" Theresa said, turning to face her visitor. An easy grin played upon his lips.
Letting his eyes travel the span of her body, Fox let out an inaudible groan.
God, she was gorgeous.
"I'd never intentionally frighten you, Theresa," he murmured, his eyes traveling back up. "Never."
"Oh..."
Her voice trailed off, the single syllable tinged with nervousness.
Fox finally raised his eyes to meet hers, and as brown met brown, his smile slowly vanished.
Her eyes were the window to her soul.
And for the first time since meeting her, her soul wasn't enraptured purely by his brother.
Fox inhaled deeply, breaking the trance. Theresa dropped her eyes to floor, her teeth gnawing lightly on her lower lip.
"I was just singing Ethan a lullaby; it never fails to put him to sleep."
She turned back to the crib and smiled lightly.
Tonight seemed to be the exception. A loud gurgle of happiness exploded from the infant.
"Never fails, eh?" Fox questioned with laughter in his voice. He stepped towards the crib and stopped beside Theresa, resting his hand along the top of the crib. As his fingers lightly clenched over the cool mahogany, her pinky finger gently brushed against his.
The air in the bedroom was suddenly thick.
"Well, um..." Fox stuttered, lifting his hand away from hers, dragging it through his tousled blonde hair.
He sounded like a moron.
Take control, Crane, take control...
Theresa lifted her face to his, concern apparent across her features. Fox cleared his throat, and smiled, stepping away from her caring gaze.
"Well, I was just coming by to see how you're doing. You looked a little down at dinner tonight."
Theresa sighed and sat down in the rocking chair beside Ethan's crib. Relief spread through Fox's veins as she did this, and he chose to take a seat on her bed... across the room.
"Was it really that noticeable?"
Her voice defeated.
"Not to the naked eye, Theresa. But to someone who knows you..."
Theresa laughed bitterly and rubbed her eyes.
"Great. I'm sure that Ethan and Gwen are sharing a wonderful laugh over my sadness right now. I really need to work on concealing my emotions more."
Fox's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Theresa, why would you want to conceal your emotions? So you can be like my mother, the Ice Queen?"
He stood up and strode over to where she sat, and kneeled before her. Slowly, he lifted his hands to her face, forcing her eyes to meet his once again.
Screw trying to keep his distance.
She needed him right now, more than ever before.
"Fox, I... I don't know, you know? It's just, the more I want Ethan, and the more I try to make him see that we're meant to be, the further he draws away! And I've tried hiding how I feel, I've tried everything that I can think of, but nothing has worked! And I just, I just want to stop hurting!"
Her voice cracking, Theresa yanked her head from his grasp, and swiped at a tear that had broken free. Before she could stop it, a loud wail escaped from her lips.
"It's okay, baby, it's okay. Just let it all out."
Fox rose onto his knees, and wrapped his arms around Theresa's trembling body.
God, how he loved this woman.
Everything about her... her smile, her laughter, even her tears, Fox loved.
Every little quirk, every little perfection... they were pieces to a puzzle, and the puzzle was slowly coming together.
Theresa's arms snaked around his neck, drawing him closer. He inhaled her scent, his eyes closing with sheer pleasure.
Theresa was the only woman Fox had ever met that he enjoyed just having in his presence.
But all, too soon, Theresa pulled away, leaving him craving more of her nearness.
"Fox, I'm so sorry. I guess I just needed a good cry."
Her words laced with good- humored laughter.
Fox took that a sign to pull away. Forcing a smile, he stood up and patted her head.
"Don't sweat it, Theresa. Just remember that, um, I'm always going to be here for you, okay?"
He tried to make his voice come off light, but he knew he failed. And when Theresa narrowed those gorgeous eyes of hers' thoughtfully, he knew that she hadn't missed his tone either.
"Fox...?"
"Hmmm?"
He quickly retreated across the room to the safety of Theresa's bed.
But he didn't count on Theresa following him. His eyes glued to the pale pink carpet, he watched her tiny feet draw closer and closer.
"Are you feeling okay tonight?"
"Uh, yeah, um, I'm fine, step-mommy."
Good one, Crane. THAT sounded convincing...
He raised his eyes, the resolve to act normally fluttering in his head. Theresa stood before him, hands on her hips, mischief gleaming in her eyes.
"Nicholas Crane, don't even try to pull a load of B.S over on me. You've been acting weird all evening, even by your usual standards."
Her easy banter was all it took to bring him to his senses.
"Yeah, well, you'd be weird too if you grew up in this loony bin."
The mattress shifted lightly beneath him as Theresa lowered herself beside him, eyes on her sons' crib.
"Fox, you may have grown up here in this living hell, and you might have been born from their evilness, but you... you're not like them. You're better than them."
She turned her gaze to his, and softly smiled. She was nervous, Fox could tell, by the way her fingers absently picked at a loose thread on the comforter.
"Theresa, don't try and fool yourself, okay? I'm just like them. I'm one of them."
The warm light from the bedside lamp cast a glow on her hair, giving the appearance of a halo as she shook her head in disagreement.
"No, Fox, you don't try and fool yourself, okay? You are worth a million of them, and then some. You are better, okay?"
Her words were husky with emotion.
And for a moment, Fox allowed himself to buy into the emotion.
Until he felt her warmth leave his side.
"And besides, Foxy, you didn't grow up here, remember? You grew up in boarding school."
Her back to him, her giggles trailed across the room as she walked back to the crib.
"Ethan's asleep."
"Which means that his mommy can finally go to sleep."
Fox stood from the bed and walked towards the door.
"Good night, my wickedly gorgeous step mother."
Theresa turned around and grinned at him.
"Good night, Fox. Thank you for letting me cry."
She took a step towards him, then seemed to think better of it. He raised his hand in farewell, then started to shut the door behind him.
"Oh, Fox?"
Her voice stopped him in his tracks. Eagerly, hopefully, he turned back in to the room.
Suddenly, she was before him, her hands on his shoulders.
Her mouth descending upon his.
He closed his eyes, trying to memorize this moment.
The way her hair danced across his chin.
Her light smell, a mix of baby powder and coconut.
His heart pounding, legs trembling.
Until he felt her lips brush his cheek.
She pulled away, tenderness in her eyes.
Her hands lingering on his shoulders.
"I meant every word I told you tonight, Fox. You are better than your family. Please believe me."
"Thanks, Resa."
He stepped away and pulled the door closed tightly behind him.
"Oh, GOD," he muttered under his breath, dropping to the floor in frustration.
Was this what being in love was like? Every nerve in your body going haywire? Leaping at the chance to spend just one second with the other person? Listening to them cry over the person that they loved?
Fox couldn't be too sure. He thought falling in love would be... different. Calmer. Softer.
Not so crazy like.
But then again, Fox had also been certain that he would never fall in love.
Maybe...
Maybe this was just lust.
Theresa was the one woman he could never have. Not only was she in love with Ethan, his older brother, but she was also married to his father.
Lust could definitely be a viable option in this scenario.
The image of Theresa nervously nibbling on her lower lip flashed through Fox's head, causing his entire body to grow warm.
"That's it!"
He knew what he had to do, to get over this whole lust thing.
If it was even lust...
Fox leapt to his feet, and brought a fist down on Theresa's door gently. He knocked several times before the door swung open, Theresa standing before him, looking at him in confusion.
"Fox, what are-"
Without uttering a word, he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him, almost roughly. Theresa let out an involuntary gasp as her body molded against his, her eyes probing his, wanting answers.
Bending his head down, Fox raised a hand to her face, and brushed back a stray hair falling across her face. At his touch, Theresa's eyes closed, and she let out a low sigh.
His lips' meeting hers was nothing short of extraordinary. Gentle at first, then teasing.
Theresa wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, her hands tangling in his hair.
"Oh, Lord," he breathed against her mouth, tightening his grip around her and lifting her a few inches off the ground.
Her response was to part his lips with her tongue, and to begin a minor assault on his mouth.
As he backed them into Theresa's bedroom, a solitary thought floated into Fox's mind.
This is definitely not lust.