Falling for Your Best Friend's Twin: a Sweet Romantic Comedy (Love Clichés Romantic Comedy Series Book 1)

by Emma St Clair

  “Yeah, but you got the idiot fifty percent.”

  “Shut up. Forget what I said. Abby deserves better.”

  I nod, catching her eye. “She does. Which means I’ve got a lot of work to do and I need a lot of balloons.”

  “Wait—balloons? Not flowers? Chocolates?”

  I grin, starting to feel better at just the thought of apologizing, groveling, and winning Abby back. “Yes. Balloons.” I pause, considering. “And maybe some coffee too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Abby

  Two days. That’s how long I’m home before I need to get the heck out of here and back to Austin.

  My parents seem to have forgotten how to behave with a child at home. Either that, or they’re not so subtly hinting that I need to vamoose.

  Catching Mama washing dishes in her underwear was one thing. Walking in on Mama and Daddy half-dressed and making out on the couch was another thing altogether. I mean, good for them, right?

  I can only hope I still want to make out on the couch with my husband after thirty years of marriage.

  But not with an audience!

  “Are you packing, baby girl? Leaving so soon?” Mama asks, standing in the doorway of my childhood room, which is now a craft room with a daybed unceremoniously shoved into a corner.

  I do my best to throw her patented look right back at her. She only laughs.

  “I think you’ve made it clear that you guys enjoy your privacy.”

  She laughs harder. “I can’t help it. Your father’s new jeans have breathed fresh life into our relationship.”

  “La la la la la! I can’t hear you!” I cover my ears with my hands. Daddy walks by, giving us both a strange look before shaking his head and continuing down the hall.

  “It’s been a great visit, aside from things of which we shall not speak,” I tell Mama, zipping up my bag and rolling it toward the door.

  Instead of letting me pass, Mama wraps me in a big hug, the kind that I remember from being a kid when I skinned my knee or came home crying because of a comment some kid made about me.

  “You’re a fighter, Abby. A fighter with a beautiful heart. I’m sorry you got hurt. Please don’t let this keep you from trying again. Or giving him another chance.”

  It wasn’t until her words that I realize that’s exactly what I’ve been doing while home. Fortifying my defenses. Rebuilding the walls I took down for Zane, the ones I haven’t been willing to remove for anyone. Not until him.

  “It hurts,” I tell her, sniffling into her hair.

  “Love always does.”

  I snuggle deeper into her embrace, because whether it’s love or not, what I feel for Zane definitely hurts. “I thought love was sunshine and woodland creatures helping with household chores.”

  She snorts. “Now, I know we taught you better than that. You know love isn’t easy.”

  “This definitely isn’t easy,” I tell her.

  “That doesn’t make it love either. The wrong things can be hard too.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  Mama pulls back and grips my shoulders, her eyes holding mine. “When it hurts, but you want to fight through it anyway. That’s how you know it’s love. When you want to fight.” She pats me on the behind and, just like that, our deep talk is over.

  I consider her words as I roll my luggage down the stairs. Zane apologized for asking me to change for the dinner with the VCs. He didn’t know about the whole high school makeover from hell, and I bet if he did, he would never have asked. Plus, he liked me before that. He saw me messy, first thing in the morning and still kissed me in a closet.

  If it were only that, we could resolve things with a conversation. I’m hurt, but he didn’t know how hurt I’d be. Or why that particular request was so hard for me. But the job thing …

  I believe Zane that Jack was the instigator. But that’s the thing: Jack is his business partner. Zane needs to man up and not use Jack as an excuse for his own choices.

  Mama said love was real if it was worth fighting for. And Zane didn’t fight for me.

  I try to swallow down the burn from that realization, but it stays with me, like indigestion after bad tacos.

  Daddy intercepts me in the kitchen and takes my bags. “Your oil is changed, and your tires are aired up. I’ll put these in the trunk.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” Knowing him, he also filled it up with gas and got a car wash while he was there.

  Mama hands me a paper grocery sack, folded over at the top like a giant lunch bag, then gives me a travel mug that’s filled with coffee.

  “Snacks for the drive and caffeine. Keep the mug. I bought it with you in mind.”

  I check out the side of the mug, rolling my eyes when I see the picture. It’s got the words “Pain in the” right next to a picture of a donkey’s butt.

  “Gee, thanks, Mother.”

  She gives me a kiss on the cheek and shoos me out the door. Daddy’s waiting by the car for me, and I give him a big hug.

  “Good to see you, sweet potato. Don’t be such a stranger.”

  “You know you could come to Austin and see me.”

  Dad shudders. “That city’s too strange for me. All the men in skinny jeans on bicycles.”

  I laugh, because he isn’t entirely wrong. Though skinny jeans seem to be on the way out for men, thankfully. Very few men could truly pull them off, and the rest looked like they stuffed half their body in sausage casing, only to have the rest explode out of the top.

  “I’m weird, Daddy.” I give his arm a squeeze as I pull back. I shake out my newly blue hair as if to prove my point.

  He pats my head, smiling in a way that’s like wrapping a cozy blanket around my heart. “No. You’re just perfect.”

  Hardly, I think.

  “It’s happening!”

  Mama’s shout makes us both spin. She’s leaning over the porch railing, waving her arms like she’s trying to flag down a cab in New York City. Daddy seems to know exactly what the it is, while I’m slow on the uptake.

  “What’s going on?” I shout at Dad’s retreating back.

  “The baby! My first granddaughter!” Mama’s squeals would rival any pig at the county fair, but the excitement is contagious.

  “Which hospital?” I call, already climbing behind the wheel.

  “Just follow us!” Mama says, sprinting toward Dad’s truck.

  Dang, the woman can move. At least, when there’s a granddaughter on the line.

  I follow Daddy’s pickup to one of the newer hospitals that’s only ten minutes away. Thank goodness. Houston’s Medical Center is renowned, but from out in Katy, it’s also a good hour without traffic.

  My phone buzzes as we make it through the doors. I check to see a message from Zoey, asking where I am.

  Abby: At the hospital. My sister in law is having her baby.

  Zoey: Which hospital?

  I text her the name, then ask her why.

  Zoey: I came for a visit.

  I frown at my phone. It’s a Monday. Zoey doesn’t take off work. That’s one thing she and Zane have in common, they’re like the Terminator, at least when it comes to work. Apparently not when it comes to me, I think, picturing Zane in his office. Looking so tempting in a dark suit.

  Nope. Not thinking about Zane.

  I am concerned about Zoey though. I’m not sure Zoey missed a class in college. Any class. Ever. Meanwhile I skipped as many as I could to still manage the grades I wanted. She didn’t miss class. She doesn’t miss work.

  Point being, she shouldn’t be in Katy on a Monday. I’m immediately suspicious.

  Abby: Why aren’t you at work?

  Zoey: Can you please stop asking questions?

  Abby: No.

  Abby: What's really going on?

  Zoey: I’ll see you in a little while. Text me where to find you.

  Zoey: Also, pick a number, one to one hundred.

  Abby: Lucky number forty-seven.

  Zoey: You’re such a
weirdo.

  Abby: It's a prime number.

  Zoey: See my above text.

  I try to shove my worry to the back of my thoughts as we arrive in the waiting area on some floor. I was too busy texting and letting Daddy guide me into the elevator and through doors to pay attention.

  When we arrive, it’s like we’ve left the hospital and are suddenly at one of those big family weddings. I hadn’t noticed Mama carrying a bag, but she’s like Mary Poppins, pulling out things that should all be banned from hospitals, like pink streamers (which she throws) and pink confetti (which Jessa’s mom throws) and pink champagne, which Dad uncorks and starts pouring into pink plastic glasses. Even my nephews are wearing pink shirts that read Big Brother. They look as embarrassed as I feel.

  I guess everyone’s pretty excited about having a girl?

  Note to self: have all boys. Or don’t give my family the name of the hospital where I’m delivering.

  Except I’m not going to be having kids because the guy I want, the guy I think I might love, didn’t fight for me. Which means he probably doesn’t love me back.

  Is it fair to assume this, when I haven’t answered his calls and deleted all voicemails and texts without listening or reading? Probably not. But I’m doing it anyway.

  A nurse rushes over with a security guard, trying to tone down my family’s giant pink party. But it’s more like tossing a glass of water on a forest fire, especially since Mama and Jessa’s mom brought enough champagne and sparkling cider and cake for the whole lobby. Daddy even has an unlit pink cigar between his teeth.

  I’m equally embarrassed and proud as the security guard absconds with the champagne but accepts a cigar and a pat on the back from my daddy. We’re that family. Loud and so far over the line that you don’t remember that there’s a line at all.

  I’m embarrassed, but I also love it. And more than anything, I want to have this for myself. The thing is, I’ve focused on work, because I didn’t think this was possible for me. I poured into my friendships, because my four best friends are amazing. We’ll be close until we’re old and gray.

  It was too scary to risk my heart for a guy who might turn out to want someone different, someone who looked or acted a different way. A Charla, not an Abby.

  But Zane wanted you, not Charla, an ornery part of my brain is trying to tell me.

  Then why isn’t he here? I argue back. Why did he give up on me so quickly? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  Despite my longing for the kind of love I see in my parents, in Jason and Jessa, and even in Jessa’s family, I don’t know if I can open myself up again. I can’t imagine going back to square one where I go on one or two dates, then cut and run before they have a chance to leave me.

  Because this is what happens when I don’t pull the escape hatch. I end up broken-hearted in the hospital lobby, watching the party go on without me.

  “Well, aren’t you a sad sack? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

  I startle at Zoey’s voice, then jump up and grab onto her like I didn’t just see her a few days ago.

  “Wow, okay.” She pats my back, her arms caught at an awkward angle by my hug assault.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks when I don’t let her go.

  “Not particularly.”

  I love Zoey. I’m viscerally glad that she’s here, whatever the reason. But the moment I remember that she’s Zane’s twin, my stomach sinks like a capsized ship, going belly-up before disappearing under swirling dark water.

  “Abby—”

  Whatever she was going to say is cut off by a cheer. Jason emerges from a set of double doors, his face lit from within. It’s a look I’ve seen on him twice before. I’m bouncing on my toes with excitement.

  “Addie is here,” he announces, pumping both fists in the air.

  Zoey and I join the melee as all the strangers who shared in the cake and secret stash of champagne security didn’t confiscate gather to offer congratulations. Backs are slapped. Hugs are given. Another secret bottle of champagne is popped. This one, the security guard pretends he doesn’t see.

  I realize that Zoey is squeezing my hand, and I squeeze back, giving her a smile.

  “Hey,” she starts again, leaning close to be heard over the din.

  But Jason's voice rises above all the other sounds. “Where’s my sister? Abby?”

  I wave my free hand, and Jason’s eyes lock on mine. Something passes between us, a current of understanding.

  “Come on, squirt. You’re first up. Jessa’s orders.”

  Zoey looks conflicted, opening and closing her mouth, and then she lets go of my hand. “I’ll be back,” I promise. She nods, her lips pressed together. When I’m not so focused on my very first niece, I need to figure out what’s up with her.

  For now, my focus is singular: seeing that new baby and holding her in my arms.

  The security guard tries to stop us, since Jessa is still in labor and delivery, not in a regular room yet, but Jason insists. They have to put a special band on my wrist that the guard scans. I remember from my nephews’ births that security is always tighter when it comes to the babies. I want to ask Jason why the rush, and why me, but I don’t actually care. I just want to meet Addie.

  I never thought much about having kids until Jason started procreating. The very first time I saw Jace, it was like a lock shattered in some deep place in my heart.

  Staring down at his squishy cheeks and puffy eyes, I felt a surge of love so fierce that I would tear off the face of anyone who hurt him. Clearly feeling the same way, Jace made a tiny sound and then spit up all over me.

  It was love.

  Jason puts his arm around me as he leads me down the hallway, answering the question I didn’t ask. “Technically, you’re not supposed to come back yet, but Jessa insisted. She’s still finishing up.”

  I have no idea what that means, not even when I walk into the room and see a flurry of activity happening between Jessa’s legs, still up in stirrups. This is not the scene I was expecting, and I’m properly scandalized.

  I balk in the doorway, but it’s too late. Jessa sees me and tilts her head, inviting me in, daring the doctor between her legs to say a word with her fearsome look. Jessa is amazing, and definitely not the kind of woman you argue with ever, but most especially not when she’s just pushed a tiny human out of her body. The doctor seems to agree and goes back to whatever he’s doing.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Jessa says, waving a hand at the doctor and nurses. “They’re just …”

  Jessa trails off and grunts, breathing heavily. A tiny squawking cry distracts me, and I realize that I’ve lost Jason. Near the bathroom door, there’s a little rolling cart with a plastic bin at the top. A bright light shines down on the most beautiful creature I’ve seen.

  Not in the typical standard of beauty. Even with the tiny knit cap, her head has that cone thing going on, and her eyes are squeezed shut, shiny with an ointment the nurse is applying. But that baby is still just gorgeous.

  When the nurse is done, she smiles and carefully hands Addie to Jason.

  My heart swells as he curls my new niece toward his chest. My brother, who was an even bigger nerd than me and who teased me mercilessly in the older brother kind of way, has the softest smile imaginable on his face.

  To distract myself from the slightly horrifying noises Jessa is making in the bed, I wash my hands in the sink for at least two minutes in scalding water, waiting for my turn to hold Addie.

  As if sensing my urgency, Jason hands me my tiny, swaddled niece when I turn around. It’s instalove, me and this teeny bundle of a new person.

  “Hi, Addie,” I whisper. “Love your name. We’re almost the same.”

  “That was the point,” Jason says, his hand landing on my shoulder.

  I blink up at him. “Seriously?”

  He grins, nodding and looking like he’s about to say something else when Jessa snags his attention.


  “Jase. I need you,” she grunts, sounding more Incredible Hulk than human. Jason rushes to her bedside, wiping sweat from Jessa’s brow and clasping her hand.

  I stare down at Addie, warring emotions rising up and twining together to form a knot in my throat. Tears sting my eyes, and I sway, holding her close, soaking up that new baby smell.

  Behind me, there’s a groan of relief, and then more activity from the hospital staff. Thinking I probably don’t want to know whatever is happening, I focus on the perfect pink cheeks and little bow of a mouth that’s mimicking the movements for nursing. If I remember correctly, any minute now she’ll start rooting around for milk that I’m not currently producing.

  I turn to Jessa, keeping my eyes fixed on the top half of her, and not whatever going on down there. I may want kids, but I’m not ready for the gory details of bringing them into the world.

  “I’d like to keep it and plant a tree over it,” Jessa is saying, locked in an intense glaring battle with the doctor. My brother makes a strangled noise.

  Keep what?

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

  “It’s against hospital policy. I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “You can plant all the trees you want, but not with your placenta.”

  Yup. I didn’t want to know.

  Jessa looks ready to argue but then, she sees Addie and softens. She reaches for her, and I step closer, passing Addie over like the most precious of treasures. Which she is. My arms instantly feel bereft.

  “That’s okay,” Jessa says, in a gooey, baby talk voice that’s so different from her usual sarcasm. “The mean old doctor can keep my placenta. I get to keep you. Yes, I do!”

  Jason makes another choking noise, and I fight off a wave of nausea. We exchange horrified glances. That’s two more times than I ever needed to hear the word placenta. Especially since I suspect that’s exactly what the nurse has just wrapped up by the foot of the bed in a medical waste bag.

  Babies? Amazing.

  Birth? A disgusting miracle.

  Two nurses begin man-handling Jessa’s stomach area. She winces a little but is distracted by Addie, who is definitely rooting around now, making funny little sounds as her head moves back and forth. She’s lost her hat, and Jason tenderly tucks it back over her light blonde hair as she latches on.