Two Wrongs Make a Right (The Wilmot Sisters #1)

by Chloe Liese

“I want more than coffee and chess, James.” My eyes narrow at the matchmakers across the road. “I want revenge.”

Go off Bea

Dammit. First, he’s a baby doctor. Now, he rescues zombie cats in their hour of undead need. Ugh.

Lol

“Talus. All right as rain.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Show-off. I bet that’s how you rope all the ladies, with that Dr. McDreamy act.”

Lol. I love them.

you were onto something. The texting worked and we clicked, okay? We’re giving it a chance. That’s all you get.”

Love this response .

Gently, he tugs me closer, until we’re nearly chest to chest, his eyes holding mine. “That means a lot, that you told me.”

Aw

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as the wind whips it across my face. “I don’t see you differently. I see you better.”

This is so sweet

“Oh, Jamie. I’m sorry I

zoned out. It’s nothing personal, I swear. I just get lost in my head sometimes and—”

Mood Bea.

She loves something prickly, a bit daunting to approach at first. It unravels the ever-present anxious knot in my chest, a ball of relief unspooling through my limbs. If she can love that little creature, quills and all, maybe she could— No, not love. Of course not. But perhaps . . . understand me. How rare that would be.

You have to meet a living creature where they are, and love them for who they are, not who you want them to be.”

Agreed.

“Don’t downplay your work,” she says fiercely. “Don’t make yourself small just because someone else has.”

You tell him Bea

She blinks at me, like I’ve stunned her, then turns toward Bea. “If you don’t marry him,

I’m talking to Sula about being a trio.”

Lol

“Come on, James,” Bea takes my hand. “Time for a nap—I mean, to play Risk.” “A nap? What?” She makes a miserable face. “Risk is such a snooze. It’s booorrrriiing.”

Lol. I love them.

“My fake boyfriend isn’t supposed to ruin me for everyone else,” I whisper. Jamie’s eyes fall shut as he drops his forehead to mine. “Sometimes, Beatrice, I want to ruin you for everyone else.”

Giggling And kicking my feet over them.

“Yes. Again, this isn’t a matter of preference. It’s a matter of the space being inaccessible while it sounds like this. I know you don’t mean any harm in it, and it’s your choice whether or

your”—I glance over my shoulder at the empty easels—“client experience. However, we’ll have to leave unless you can find something equally ‘romantic’ but gentler on the ears.”

Love this comment.

“I said”—I drop my voice and lean close, breathing in her soft scent and barely resisting the urge to press a

kiss to her neck—“you’re with me.” “Oh.” She smiles. “Don’t worry. He’s not my type.” I narrow my eyes. “What is your type?” “Tall, dark blond, and stuffy.” She looks me up and down. “Obviously.”

Love them.

“You know it’s okay, right? For someone to see the best in you. For them to like the things you’re way too hard on yourself for.”

“I’m saying, you’re the best kind of chaos I’ve ever met. And while chaos used to terrify me, you make me crave it. I’m saying, even though this is an absurd situation we’ve backed ourselves

into . . . I’d do it again in a heartbeat because it’s given me you.”

Aw

You’re the best thing in my life, I want to tell her. You’re safe and real and perfectly imperfect. We started as a lie, and now we’re the truest thing I’ve ever known.

So cute.

I love her. Oh God, I love her. With each pound of my heart, the swell of the string quartet as the music builds, that’s the only thing I hear and feel—I love her. When haven’t I loved her?