Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
It’s an effort to keep myself somewhat composed, to stifle all the butterflies in my belly. My thigh burns as though Bryson has his hand pushed against it again, and suddenly, I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere else, so I could sink into the pleasurable fantasies. So I could press down on my core and close my eyes tight and see him, feel him, my man, in thoughts as I never will in reality.
Bryson loves me, I wrote once, hundreds of times in a notebook, trying to make it true.
Adam hangs up.
“Is Bryson staying here?” I ask, probably way too eagerly.
I can’t not ask.
“Yeah. I asked him to.”
“I thought he’d be going back to the West Coast soon.”
“He’s helping with my business.”
I sit at the table, hoping it doesn’t look like I collapsed from exhaustion into the chair, as though the thought of Bryson is taking all my energy for anything else.
“Is something wrong?” Adam asks.
“No,” I say quickly. “Well…”
Think, think.
“I guess it would be good to know exactly what happened between you two. What the argument was about.”
Adam joins me at the table, resting his forearms, and looking at me with a tight mouth. “It’s difficult to talk about that. Anyway, I want to put it behind me. Truthfully, I wish I hadn’t sent him away so quickly. I wish I’d thought it through. I knew he’d go if I asked him, but I felt I had no choice.”
“Was it about Eva?” I ask, remembering Tiffany’s theory.
That’s a mistake.
Adam bolts to his feet, his chair making a screeching noise on the hardwood floor. His chest rises and falls quickly, his eyes bulging with rage.
“What do you know about Eva and Bryson?” he snaps.
“N-nothing,” I say. “Adam. I’m sorry.”
He tilts his head at my tone, as though realizing how wild he’s become, and then grips the back of the chair. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
I say nothing, waiting for him to go on.
“I can’t talk about Eva and Bryson. Don’t ask me about that again.”
With that, Adam turns and walks from the room.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“Gym,” he grunts.
The door slams, leaving me to lean back in the chair, biting down as the tension grips me in its talons. I feel like the worst sister imaginable for making him so angry, so soon after Eva’s passing.
Doesn’t it prove there’s some truth there? The fight was about Eva and Bryson.
What else would that mean, other than something happened between them?
Tears sting my eyes as I move my hands over my belly, telling my future children their father won’t be Bryson… which means they might never be at all. I can’t imagine having kids with anyone else. I will always compare my life to the one that might’ve been had Bryson wanted me.
If he placed his hand on my leg in the car—if I’m not outright crazy—then maybe it was just something he does. Sleeping with women he shouldn’t, like Eva… and then me.
What does that say about him? Who the hell is he? Why would Adam still want him around?
I stand, deciding to do Adam’s dishes and clean his kitchen to give myself something to focus on. As I work, the smell of cleaning chemicals rises around me, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
The worst part is my body still sings out for Bryson, even if I know I should be able to tame it far easier now. If Bryson’s the sort of man to disrespect Adam like this, to pursue his wife and then his sister… I shouldn’t want him.
Ever. But I do. Forever.
I get on my hands and knees, scrubbing a stubborn stain on the floor, wondering if this is my penance for making Adam so mad. Then my traitor mind makes it so I’m in the future, and Bryson walks in, one of our kids on his shoulders, both of them smiling down at me.
“Hard at work, Mommy?” the boy asks, his voice bright.
“We’re very lucky, son,” Bryson says in his husky voice, hinting at what he’ll want from me later. “Never forget that… we’re very lucky.”
The front door opens. I climb to my feet, glancing at the clock. It’s been almost an hour since Adam left. Not long enough for him to get his usual workout in, but maybe he cut it short.
“Hello?”
Nerves crash into me when I hear Bryson’s voice.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Acting like a doofus, but it’s too late. I skipped across the room to the pantry. I’m hiding in here, back pressed against the shelving units.
With all this confusion, I can’t see him. I feel the need pulsing inside me, a light that won’t go out, no matter what I learn, no matter how impossible it is.
“Adam?” Bryson calls, walking through the house, his footsteps getting closer.