After We Broke Up, I Married His Brother

“What… what are you doing?”

I stared wide-eyed at Jordan.

Declaring his feelings?

Was he doing this to get back at me for Kian?

Jordan rolled his eyes.

“I’m saving you. Can’t you tell?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell.

When I was with Kian, I always felt Jordan didn’t like me.

Whenever we were together, Jordan would sulk, like I owed him money or something.

Only now did I realize I was still holding Jordan’s hand.

I pulled away awkwardly.

The phone rang. It was Kian.

I almost hung up but Jordan grabbed it and answered.

“Where are you? What does Jordan mean by declaring his feelings?”

Kian usually seemed indifferent to me. He rarely questioned me.

“So that’s why you broke up with me. You’ve already found a replacement, huh?”

My long-held grievances finally exploded.

I grabbed the phone.

“Yeah, you’re right. I like Jordan. He’s great!”

With that, I hung up, afraid I’d break down and cry.

But then I remembered Jordan was still there.

He was leaning against the railing, looking at me with amusement.

“You like me?”

I suddenly had the urge to disappear and hide somewhere.

I was so mortified I felt like I could have dug a hole to escape.

But Jordan seemed oblivious to my discomfort.

“I’m great?”

“Great at what? In bed?”

Hearing his words, I took a deep breath, closing and reopening my eyes.

“Well, you answered the phone.”

Jordan chuckled.

“But I never said I was great.”

Seeing there was no escaping this topic, I decided to change the subject.

“I… I’m hungry…”

We were supposed to have dinner.

But after the food was served, I lost my appetite.

Instead, I kept drinking.

By the third glass of wine, Jordan held my hand.

“Feeling heartbroken and drinking away your sorrows?”

I shook my head.

“Not really. It’s just that tonight feels like a dream. I’d regret it if I didn’t drink a bit.”

I poured myself a fourth glass.

I rarely drink, so just a few glasses were enough to make my head spin.

Maybe it was the alcohol giving me courage.

I even tried to get Jordan to drink more.

On the dimly lit street, Jordan was supporting me as I swayed.

I noticed a couple holding hands and entering the hotel.

What kind of feeling was that? Was it like a small boat swaying on the ocean, or like strolling on clouds in the sky?

I stared blankly for a few seconds and then looked up at Jordan.

“Want to give it a try?”

“Huh?” Jordan looked at me, puzzled.

He followed my gaze to the hotel. “I’m not that easy.”

“You like me, don’t you?”

I never knew I’d be so bold after drinking. The things I said were almost unbearable to recall.

“Aren’t you going to declare your feelings?”

Jordan stared at me for a long time. His eyes were full of unreadable emotions.

“Are you serious?”

Maybe it was the alcohol. It seemed like Jordan was talking a lot.

“Why are you talking so much?”

I pouted and tried to push Jordan away.

But he pulled me into his arms, deep voice coming to my ear.

“Does it still count tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answered hazily.

I thought his scent was wonderful and found myself wanting to get closer. And indeed, I did.

“You smell so good. I like it.”

I nuzzled against Jordan’s chest like a cat.

It felt like Jordan had made a decision as he took my hand and led me inside the hotel.