I should never have come here.

Josh takes a sip of his iced coffee, eyes perusing the documents he laid out on our table. I want to think this is a trap but there is nothing wrong with what I have read so far but he has been chilly. Frigid towards me like we aren’t friends. I should be the one upset.

Drumming my fingers on the table, I tuck a braid behind my ear. “I’m sorry for the other day, I swear it was a mistake.” He nods, I lick my lips and gulp. “How have you been?”

“Fine.”

On a good day, he would have returned the question, I would never feel awkward around him. I let my eyes roam the eatery to avoid the temptation of smacking him. He brought the papers, he should know the content but the seriousness etched on his face makes it easy to believe he hasn’t read them. My shoulders sag, will we ever be friends?

Most of the round tables are empty, there is no one behind the counter with pastries. A couple sit at the far end, the man has his back to me and the lady’s head is bent over a file they seem to exchange at intervals. It is my first time here, I came on Josh’s request. Maybe I should have picked a venue myself. Tucking my hands between my legs, I allow a few seconds pass before stealing a chip from his plate. He pauses to stare at me, I wait.

“How are you?” he finally asks and I chuckle.

“Stressed.” His eyes scan my face, his mouth opens, he closes it with a tight smile. I sigh. I wish he will ask the obvious question. We are like old friends struggling to reconnect.

My phone pings with a message from David, I open it without replying. The name he gave me leads to nowhere and I don’t feel like stirring a hornet’s nest to satisfy my curiosity. Casting a glance at Josh, all the questions from the past rise to the surface.

“Why did you kiss me?” I whisper. “Don’t lie.”

His hands run through his face, a typical Brandon move, he releases his breath and I feel bad for asking. I twirl my hair around my finger, he stares long enough for me to avert my gaze to the fashionable cuts on my jeans. I wonder how long until I can’t fit into it.

“I like you.”

With my head downcast, I say, “I am married.” Though Brandon warned me, his reply still surprises me. I raise my head, he is staring at me with open admiration, I clear my throat and pick another chip to keep my mouth busy until I can gather my thoughts.

He reaches for my hand but retracts it before it comes in contact with mine. “I’m sorry.”

The emotions running through his face has my heart slowing down. Anger prickles my skin. We were friends for so long yet I didn’t notice his glaring feelings for me. I don’t let myself dwell on this new realisation. Maybe it is a good thing, breaking up with him to be with his brother would have hurt. I would never have gotten married to Brandon. No one would switch my pills. Sinking my nails into my knees, I try to focus on the present.

“Josh, I don’t want to lose your friendship,” I tell him with a shaky smile and his lips curl into a grin that will have panties dropping. He is a good person, foolish sometimes but an asset. “But I am married now.” He nods but I don’t think he gets it, I push my chair closer like I am about to tell him a big secret. “I love your brother with all my heart.”

“I’m better than him, El, a better fit for you,” he says without a trace of arrogance and my heart hurts from the painful truth his words carry. “You know this. It’s easy for us.”

Masking my inner turmoil behind a practised smile, I shake my head until I can convince myself he is wrong. But traitorous thoughts continue invading my mind. Supporting his statements with memories from our shared past. Images of us laughing, fighting. We are compatible. It is easy for us to be friends which is a great start for a happy home. He has his fair share of troubles as we all do but communication will never be an issue for us.

Life—marriage life will be kinder to us with him as my husband rather than Brandon, the master of unending baggage. Guilt stabs my chest at that thought. I give myself a mental slap for allowing my emotions to get the best of me. Couples fight all the time and I must be losing my mind to think it okay to fantasise about life with my husband’s brother.

Brandon has his demons, don’t we all?

“For better for worse,” I say, “till death do us part. I took a vow and I intend to honour it.” The eatery goes quiet like the people present are listening in on our conversation and my voice lowers. “He might not be the best brother to you but he has been the best husband.” Josh arches a brow, I gulp and nod. “I don’t want you two hating each other.”

Sarcasm laces Josh words when he says in a haughty voice that has me cringing, “Hate is a strong word.” He uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “Why did you marry him?”

“I fell in love,” is all I say with a cringey smile. He scoffs, I place my clasped hands on the table as if daring him to challenge me. Whatever issues he has with Brandon has nothing to do with me, it cannot be resolved today. “What happened?” Taking huge gulps of air, I ask, “What did your brother do that’s so bad you don’t want to talk to or about him?”

Josh smiles, a dark sinister smile that has me leaning back in my chair. “Ask him.”

“Was it a woman?” His dark gaze remains on me. “I love Brandon, I really do. I love him.”

“That’s too bad for you.”

“Josh, please.” His hand rakes through his hair. “Why can’t I have you and have him? We have been friends for so long and I am...” I take in a deep breath. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you I was getting married but it shouldn’t affect our friendship.” Motioning to the file in front of him, I add, “If we can’t set aside our differences, how can we work together?”

Sweeping his hair to one side, he folds his arms across his chest like he is a chief judge observing a contestant. My hand closes over the bottle of water on my table, I take a swig from it. Again and again until the bottle is empty but my throat still feels parched.

“And what does your husband think about us working together?” Annoying Josh showed up a few times in our years of friendship but now, he is everywhere. My lips press into a thin line, Brandon has as much say in this as I do in his business with Sophia. Josh laughs. “I don’t think he will like that very much, I know I won’t.” That mischievous glint creeps into his eyes, I ready myself. “I kissed you once, who says I won’t do it again?”

“You won’t.”

The smile he flashes me has chills running down my spine, I look away. “You have too much faith in me.” My head snaps to his face, that line sounds too familiar. “El,” he says, breaking our stare-off. “I’ll try.” I let my lips curve into a smile, he chuckles and I grin. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.” I sniff, touch the edge of my index finger to my eyes.

“I’m sorry for kissing you.”

Tilting my head, I ask, “Are you really sorry?”

“No.” Laughter spills from my lips, I sigh in content, my sassy but honest friend is back. He folds his hands behind his head. “But I am sorry for the troubles my action caused.” I smile. “It will never happen again, I promise. I will always be on my best behaviour.”

My phone pings again. David. Doesn’t he stop? I should block him. Josh notes the change in my mood, he asks about it and I throw caution to the wind. “Who is Brendan Stark?”

The smile on his face disappears, he bursts out laughing, a sound too dry to be real and my chest tightens in anticipation. “I don’t know.” Liar. My brows shoot up. “Ask him.”

We stare at each other for painful seconds, I give up first. To think I believe Brandon is a hard nut to crack. I push the empty bottle on the table. “What about your parents?” Josh seems to relax at the new question, I know he will answer when he offers me a smile.

“Alive.”

On cue, I palm my stomach and an internal debate begins. They will be grandparents soon but they don’t even know we are married. Maybe they do and they don’t care.

“You hate them too?”

Josh laughs, his eyes gleam with mirth and I relax in my seat. “I don’t hate anybody.”

“Hmm.” I nod. We settle into a comfortable silence while he finishes his coffee. “Are you still in contact with them?” He nods and a yearning for the same with them rips through me. I want to know what the parents of my husband look like. The little things about Brandon’s childhood only his parents can remember. “Can I have their contact?”

Laughter rings through the eatery, the couple I saw earlier rise from their seat. “I don’t think Brandon wants that and you shouldn’t ask me questions meant for your husband.”

Josh’s voice draws me from them. My overimaginative mind must be playing tricks on me again, that man closely resembles Brandon. I shake my head to clear the image, I didn’t get a view of his face and I already assumed him to be Brandon. I should call him.

“El.” My gaze returns to Josh. “Did you ask him?”

The man turns, my reply dies on my lips. It is Brandon, in flesh and blood with an arm around another woman’s waist. Apparently, he didn’t miss me. Josh follows my gaze, I clear my throat and offer him a smile that is more to reassure myself. She is nobody.

“El.”

“It’s fine,” I hear myself saying but the voice sounds strange. “I need their numbers.”

* * *

Images splash across my screen, pictures of Brandon and the lady from the eatery. The caption under the post describes her and their relationship, in two words: business partners. I exit the site, a heaviness settles in my chest when the link to the post catches my eyes. It is the last message Brandon sent me. An explanation and a link, he wanted me to think nothing of what I saw. Because it is nothing. My imagination played me.

Cursing myself doesn’t work, the words on my screen refuse to disappear. I jump from the bed and pace the length of my room. I fucked up. How could I send that to him?

I pause at the door. He should have called. I facepalm, why would he? I told him to fuck off. Fuck. My face scrunches. But it was a mistake. The text was for David. My fingers hover above the call button like it has been doing since I sent him that text. I don’t call.

The insecure part of me keeps replaying the image of his arm on her slim waist. It was a casual touch, a simple move that lasted less than a second but God, help me, it felt like it lasted an eternity. Why is he touching other women? My heart constricts at the thought of them being more than business partners, I know people mix business with pleasure all the time. But Brandon can’t be one of them. He won’t even flirt back. My lips pucker, I hugged Josh, I shouldn’t be so mad at him. But Josh is different, someone he knows.

Someone who wants to kiss me.

Seconds roll into minutes, I slide to the floor with my back against the door, phone in my hand. My eyes centre on the men shoes on display, I don’t know how I got here but I like what I see. I continue swiping until I settle on a pair in his size. My face splits into a grin that fades at the exorbitant price written under the picture. That much for a shoe?

Shoving the negative thoughts to the back of my mind, I skim the seller’s reviews. He is my husband, no amount is too small for him and the boots don’t cost half of what my car does. Besides, he will do more than this for me, when it comes to my needs, prices don’t matter. My shoulders sag, if only he will put the same effort into making our lives better.

But he is. Or he’s trying to.

I massage my temple to chase the brewing headache. The nausea has gone, my appetite is better with Ma feeding me everything she thinks I need but the headache comes often. It has to be my punishment for leaving my husband this long without a word or reply to his texts or calls. Giggles spill from my lips, how the tables have turned. But I am tired.

Someone calls me from outside my room, a knock sounds on the door. “El.”

“Ma?”

Opening the door to reveal my sweet mother, my eyes follow her finger to the window. I stare at her back, confused and too annoyed at myself to indulge her. Staying away from the person you love for this long can do that to you. I don’t know what I want anymore.

“Brandon is here.”

I sprint to stand beside her. His BMW is parked in front of the tall building that houses our flat. Though he is still seated in his car, I can recognise him from miles away. I cast a mournful look at my jumpsuit, shriek and scurry to my wardrobe for a change of outfit.

Something sexy since I haven’t seen him in weeks. I sift through my clothes with a sigh, I owe Josh a better explanation for leaving abruptly. And David needs to fuck off. My life is in shambles but I can pretend to be a happy wife for the next few minutes. I miss him.

No outfit seems good enough, I throw my hands up and chew on my lips. My husband is here, I have to look my best. The tiny voice in my head tries to remind me Brandon won’t give a damn if I show up in rags or a cement bag. But I can’t stop fretting. In his suit, he looks good, I have to look the same or maybe more. He should have called ahead.

Ma’s hands rest on my shoulders. “Calm down.” I let out a dry laugh. So easy for her to say. I am in her home, I need to be in mine. “Stress is not good for the baby,” she adds.

The doctor said that too. I nod, quiet as she guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. She offers me one Caprisonne pack from the secret stash under my former reading table and I bury my face into my palms without accepting it. Nothing escapes this woman. She caused it, she shouldn’t have awakened my Caprisonne obsession. Her chuckles mock me as she retreats, I peep through my fingers to see her standing by my wardrobe.

On her return with two hangers, she lifts the one with a gown and my hands drop to my thighs. “This?” Lowering it to raise the other outfit to her eye level, she says, “Or this.”

I select the gown. It will be easier for him to slide his hands under. Lord knows I missed him. His touch. I hope he has too. With Ma’s help, I get dressed, by the time the doorbell rings, I am ready. After one last glance and a gentle shove from Ma, we saunter out.

The wallclock in the parlour chimes six, Pa should be on his way. I have no idea why Ma left the pharmacy earlier but I am grateful for her presence as we approach the front door. My hand trembles as I reach for the knob, she giggles and pushes me gently to the side.

When I give an encouraging nod, she opens the door and the sight before me snatches my breath. I gulp. Brandon’s fist is raised as if to knock, his gaze wanders from me to Ma, then returns to me. Opening my mouth to welcome him, the words die in my throat when he flashes us a warm smile and I wordlessly collect the gift hamper from him.

“Hi,” he says.

His nervousness is laughable but I am worse, I can’t even form a coherent reply. Seeing him that day should have prepared me for now but it didn’t. One thing is for sure, I have missed him. Too much. My eyes rake over his face, the instant urge to pull him in for a kiss after crushing him in a much-needed hug takes over me and my grip tightens on the hamper. His beards are unusually long and his hair has grown enough for me to pull.

But they don’t tell as much story as his eyes which convey heart-wrenching sadness. He does nothing but takes in my movements as if giving me a chance to decide what I want with him. It’s up to me and I want him. I lower the hamper to the floor, take another step forward and palm his face. He leans into my touch, I whimper as tingles shoot up my arms. Tears line my eyes, tears of happiness and I sniff, pressing our foreheads together.

“Baby,” I whisper. “I missed you.” His arms loop around my waist, he drags me close and I sigh. Our eyes meet, conveying the things we can’t voice out. “I missed you so much.”

Brandon’s mouth opens, I stand on my toes as our breathing mingles. Our lips are a few inches from meeting when someone clears their throat behind us. We jump apart. Our heads snap to the source. Ma. Her arms are folded across her chest and she looks far from impressed. I come to stand in front of Brandon but the sharp look she cuts me has my feet pushing me to the side. I love my husband but he is on his own in this case.

Pleading with my eyes for her to take it easy on him, my shoulders deflate when her nose crinkles. She stalks towards him, his only visible reaction is the clenching of his fists before shoving them into his pockets. No one sees what’s coming next, especially me and a cry tears through my lips when Ma’s palm connects with Brandon’s cheek.

“That’s for making my baby cry,” she says in that no-nonsense voice that stops my legs from guiding me to my husband. Brandon’s head snaps to one side, colour rushes to that part of his face and she slaps his other cheek. “That’s for stressing my grandbaby.”