by Amelia Stone
She huffed. “And you didn’t think to pass on that information, knowing how he is?”
“You said something that same day about how excited you were for Sam to come home, so I figured he told you.”
“I meant for the wedding, not permanently!” She rounded on me. “Did you know about this?”
My head reared back in shock. “Me? Why would I know anything about his plans?”
“I don’t know.” Her shrewd gaze once again gave me the impression that she could see right through me. “You tell me.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t talked to Sam in years, Hannah,” I pointed out, trying not to wince. It was true, but I didn’t exactly like to remind myself of that. “I wouldn’t even know he’s alive if it weren’t for you.”
Hannah frowned, and okay, maybe that was a little harsh. But if I’m being honest, my relationship with Sam – or lack thereof – hurt me. A lot. He’d all but cut me out of his life in the last few years.
After he moved to Portugal, we’d kept in touch, at least at first. But lately, we’d had so little contact that I barely even felt like we were still friends. Sam and I were basically just Facebook acquaintances now, like that guy from high school who was your chem lab partner, or that girl you used to work with, or your second cousin you don’t like all that much. He was that guy who used to be my friend. Our close friendship had devolved into two people who wished each other ‘happy birthday’ on the internet.
Once upon a time, I’d wanted a lot more than friendship from Sam. But I’d accepted years ago that he would never feel the same way about me. I’d given up on him returning my crush sometime around the time he’d met Adriana. He’d never given me any reason to hope for more than friendship before then, even though I’d carried a torch basically since puberty. But I still always expected him to be a part of my life, even if he didn’t want to spend his with me. I thought I could count on that much. But I guess I was wrong.
God, it freaking hurt.
“Uh huh.” Hannah stared at me for a few moments, her bright green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Unable to bear the scrutiny, I looked away, my eyes roving the messy kitchen. Feeling close to my breaking point, I finally just gave in and started cleaning. I could feel Hannah’s searching gaze on me as I swept up the spilled flour. I didn’t dare look at her, for fear she’d want to keep talking. I actually began to feel a little sweaty from the pressure. Luckily for me, the oven timer dinged a moment later, and Hannah seemed to give it up, turning to pull the cookies out and saving me from any interrogations. I smothered a relieved sigh.
Of course, the second Hannah turned her back, Brian pounced. From the corner of my eye, I saw his long arm dart out, swiping a huge chunk of raw dough before she could stop him. He whooped in victory.
Hannah let out an indignant huff as she dropped the hot baking sheet on the stovetop. “My cookie dough!”
She ran over to her fiancé, hopping up and down to try to stop him from eating the dough. Brian had more than a foot on her, though, so all he had to do to keep her out of reach was put a hand to her head. Then with a smirk, he began to leisurely lick the dough from his other hand. Hannah, never one to fight fair, started kicking him in the shins and poking him in the stomach.
It got romantic from there, as things inevitably did between the two of them. I stood mutely, watching as their play fighting turned to kisses. I was still too shell-shocked to give them my usual “get a room” as they made out like no one was watching.
Sam was coming home. Sam Whitfield, the guy I’d had an unrequited crush on for as long as I could remember, was moving back to Arizona to stay. I had no idea what I’d do when I saw him. On the one hand, I kind of wanted to strangle him. He’d dropped out of my life with no explanation, and that was not the kind of thing I took lightly. Especially from someone I cared about so deeply.
On the other hand, the idea of seeing Sam again left my stomach fluttering and my pulse racing. Even though he’d hurt me deeply, I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of anticipation. This was Sam – the man who’d occupied my every thought for most of my adolescence, and well into my twenties, too, if I’m being honest. He was the impossibly high standard to which I’d held every other guy I’d ever met.
He was the only man I’d ever loved.
The sound of the doorbell snapped us all out of it. Hannah pulled away from Brian, her expression instantly suspicious once again.
“Who could that be?” she asked, her mouth tipping down in a confused frown.
Brian grinned. “Why, my best man, of course.” He winked at us both as he headed for the door. “You know, your brother, Sam?”
As I rang the doorbell, I realized, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that I’d forgotten to tell my sister I was moving back home.
I usually didn’t keep secrets from my sister, at least not deliberately. It’s hard to lie to someone you’ve shared a womb with, after all. One word – hell, one glance – and it was obvious something was up. I’d been an open book to Hannah since birth, whether I liked it or not. And mostly I did. My twin sister was my first and most loyal friend, and I loved that I could always be completely honest with her.
When I remembered to be, anyway. I was kind of forgetful. Well, more like really forgetful. I always had the best intentions to tell people important stuff. I wanted to be helpful and reliable. But I would get distracted easily by the millions of thoughts floating around my brain, or get so involved in the conversation at hand, that I’d just… forget.
So when Hannah called a few weeks ago to tell me she was engaged, I got so caught up in her good news that my own announcement got lost in the shuffle. It was probably for the best, anyway. I wasn’t too keen to talk about my reasons for leaving Portugal. I just hoped Hannah would forgive me for this latest fuck-up.
Judging by the shouts coming from the other side of the thick wood door in front of me – shouts that included my name – I realized I might have underestimated just how fast she’d get over the inadvertent surprise.
The heavy door flew open faster than I would have thought possible, considering the person on the other side was my very tiny sister. I mean, Hannah was more than half a foot shorter than me and weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet. How did she move that huge slab of oak so quickly?
Her eyes narrowed dangerously when she saw me, and I tensed. “Samuel James Whitfield, I cannot believe you pulled this shit again!” she cried. But her anger pretty much dissolved the moment she threw her arms around me and squeezed me in a fierce hug.
“I love you, too, little sister,” I mumbled, sneaking a hand up and rubbing my jaw where her hard head had knocked into me.
She huffed against my shoulder, thumping her fists painfully against my back. “You’re only older by six minutes.”
I grinned. “Six minutes is six minutes.”
She gave me another squeeze before pulling back. Her mouth was strangely pinched, like she was trying to fight a smile. “I’m so mad at you right now.”
I laughed. “I’ll bet. Sorry about the surprise.”
Behind her, my best friend Brian grinned from the doorway. “It’s great to see you, man. Even if you got me in trouble.”
“Why would you be in trouble here?”
He shook his head. “Because you told me you were coming home, and I didn’t tell her.”
I frowned. “My bad. I swear I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark.”
“Yeah, babe. It’s all his fault.” Brian sounded hopeful, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I highly doubted he’d get off the hook that easily.
As predicted, Hannah scowled at him. “Uh huh. Sure.” She turned back to me again, her face softening. “When did you get in?”
“Last night,” I replied. “I’m crashing with Mom and Dad until I find an apartment.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like fun.”
“It’s a bed.” I shrugged. “And Mom has mellowed a little.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sure.
And Dad is selling the firm and becoming a shepherd.”
I chuckled. “Right after he downsizes to a condo.”
She giggled, no doubt thinking of our parents’ ostentatious McMansion in the Ahwatukee Foothills. “God, I missed you, kid.” She sneaked in for another hug.
I grinned. “I missed you, too, kid.”
“But this beard has to go,” she continued, reaching a hand up and giving the hair on my chin a painful tug. “I am not letting my wedding photos get ruined by a ginger Grizzly Adams.”
I had to laugh again at the look on Hannah’s face. “Why does everybody hate on the beard?” My friends in Lisbon had all made fun of me for it, too. It was starting to give me a complex.
“Because you look like you’re homeless, man,” Brian said, finally stepping back to let me in. “It’s not attractive.”
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw as I stepped into the house. Maybe it was a little overgrown, especially in the last few weeks. I hadn’t exactly made grooming a top priority since things went to shit in Lisbon. But I’d never admit that to these two knuckleheads. “I think it makes me look distinguished. Professorial, even.” I sighed in relief as the chill air hit my overheated skin. God bless central air. Arizona summers are precisely the reason I moved to Europe.
Well, among other things. But the last thing I wanted to think about right now was Adriana. My twin sister would be marrying my best friend in a few months. I was going to make like Peter Pan and think happy fucking thoughts.
“It makes you look like a serial killer,” Hannah scolded, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder as she led me through the house toward the kitchen. Not that I needed her to show me the way. The enticing scent of fresh-baked cookies left a trail that I’d have to be dead not to follow. My sister made the best cookies anywhere, bar none. The best anything, truth be told. She was a damn fine chef.
“Who says I’m not a serial killer?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.
Hannah scowled at me. “Not funny, Sammy.”
“Well, it has been a while since you’ve seen me, Han. You never know what I’ve been up to,” I teased.
“You’re incorrigible.” She lightly slapped my shoulder as we passed through a wide, arched doorway into her newly renovated kitchen. I let out a low hum, admiring the marble countertops and professional-grade appliances.
Not to mention the woman on the other side of the island. Her back was turned to the room as she pulled a sheet of cookies out of the oven, but my gaze was riveted to her all the same.
Jamy Rodgers. Damn, was she ever a sight for sore eyes. My heartbeat sped up as I drank her in. It’d been way too long since I’d seen her. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her, how much I needed her in my life, until recently. Maybe even until right this moment. I kicked myself for probably the thousandth time for falling out of touch with her.
“I guess you could get away with just a trim before the big day,” Brian said, pulling me out of my thoughts. He smirked at me, like he could read my mind. And okay, maybe I had indulged my baser instincts for a second and checked out Jamy’s ass as she bent over the oven. But I very much doubted he could guess the depth of the thoughts and feelings tumbling around my brain right now.
When Adriana and I had broken up, we’d had a huge fight – one of those knock-down, drag-out things that lasted for hours. Her parting words as she kicked me out of our apartment still stuck with me. “I need to be with someone who only sees me, only thinks about me, only loves me,” she’d said. “You never have. And I can’t put up with that anymore.”
Somehow, she’d seen something that I never had. But I saw it now. Standing here in my sister’s kitchen, I saw it crystal fucking clear.
“I dunno,” Hannah said, pulling my attention to her. She was frowning at me thoughtfully, her gaze zeroed in on my jaw. “What do you think, Jamy?”
My eyes once again found their way to Jamy, who was now standing upright in front of the stove. Her gaze was downcast as she pulled an oven mitt off, and I could tell by the stiff set of her shoulders that she was uncomfortable. She looked up at the question, and my mouth went dry as a familiar pair of pale green eyes raked my face for a moment. When they met my own, they held a mixture of anger and hurt.
Shit. She probably hated me. And did I really blame her? I’d pretty much ghosted her, dropping out of contact without any explanation. I’d fucked up. I just hoped it wasn’t so bad that she’d never forgive me.
With a frown, Jamy turned to Hannah. “It’s your wedding,” she answered, her voice sounding a little croaky. She cleared her throat before continuing. “You should get what you want.”
Brian groaned. “Jesus, don’t tell her that. I’m having a hard enough time reining in the Bridezilla as it is.”
“Did you just call me a Bridezilla?” Hannah’s head whipped around, and her eyes flashed as she glared at her fiancé.
“Uh, no,” he said slowly. “No, I think you must be hearing things.”
I chuckled under my breath. God, this dude was still as terrible at handling my sister as ever. Watching them now, I remembered the day he finally admitted he loved her. I’d practically had to drag him out of his cave kicking and screaming. To be fair, my sister seemed a little – okay, a lot – nuttier than usual lately, thanks to the stress of wedding fever, no doubt. But Brian needed to backpedal fast if he wanted to keep his balls.
Hannah’s expression told me she was busy thinking of ways to kill her fiancé, so I snuck a glance at Jamy unobserved. She was turned away from me again, transferring cookies from the baking sheet onto a cooling rack. I took the opportunity to look my fill. She’d changed over the years, but definitely for the better. Jamy looked good. Really good. Her hair was a few shades lighter than it had been in high school and college, back now to the natural golden brown color I remembered from when we were kids. Her ivory cheeks and nose were dotted with freckles, and she had a soft smile playing across her lips as she listened to Hannah and Brian argue. She still wasn’t looking at me, so I let my eyes dip down to peruse her body.
What? I’m a man, and Jamy had curves for days. I’d have to be dead not to appreciate them.
“Oh, so now I’m crazy?” Hannah said, reluctantly bringing my attention back to her. Her voice was dangerously calm as she faced off against my best friend.
Brian’s blue eyes darted to Jamy, as though pleading for help. But she was still absorbed in the cookies, her back to everyone. When his eyes bounced to me, I shook my head, letting him know he was on his own. He looked back at Hannah, pasting a hasty smile on his face. “Of course not, babe. You’re the picture of sanity.”
“Brian Michael Campbell.” Damn, he was definitely in trouble. That was the second time she’d middle-named someone in the last ten minutes. Her patience must’ve really been wearing thin. She started stalking toward him, and he backed up until his ass hit the opposite counter. “You are on thin ice already. Would you care to try again?”
Brian swallowed audibly. “I love you?”
“Is that a question?” she hissed.
He shook his head. Smart man. “I love you,” he said, injecting some confidence into his voice. “And you’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever.”
Hannah’s hard glare softened for a second, before she caught sight of me from the corner of her eye. “But what if Sam ruins my wedding photos with that heinous chin rug?” she asked, flashing me a scowl.
He looked over Hannah’s head, his eyes pleading once more. I crossed my arms over my chest, shaking my head firmly. Basically, I was letting him know it was my face, and the beard was going to stay, fuck you very much.
“Um. We’ll put a pin in it?” Brian smiled at her hopefully.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But we are discussing it again,” she said, with another glare at me. “Soon.”
Brian’s arms tightened around her, and he pulled her in for a kiss. “So am I forgiven?” he murmured.
She smiled. “Maybe,�
�� she said as she kissed him again, more passionately this time. They started pawing at each other and making out like no one else was around. Christ. I mean, I’d known for years now that my sister was having sex with my best friend, and I’d made my peace with it. That didn’t mean I wanted to see it.
“Get a room,” I grumbled, chuckling when I realized Jamy had said it at the same time.
“Go fuck yourself,” Brian retorted.
“Oh, but that does actually remind me. I need you to look at those tile samples with me.” Hannah pulled Brian by the hand. “I wanted to see them in the bathroom, so we know how they look with the lighting there.”
“Good idea,” Brian said, winking at me as they left the room.
I rolled my eyes. Given the way they were sucking face a minute ago, it seemed like a flimsy excuse to me. But at least it left me alone with Jamy. I turned to her now, flashing my most charming smile. Hoping it would help smooth things over between us. Long shot, but I’d take any odds I could.
“Are they always that nauseating?” I asked.
She frowned at me for so long I thought she wouldn’t answer. After the most agonizing ninety seconds of my life, she smiled slightly, and my stomach gave a lurch at the sight. “Pretty much,” she replied, her low voice washing over me. “I’m starting to think I should learn how to say ‘get a room’ in some other languages, just to mix it up.”
I grinned. “Well, in Portuguese, you’d say ‘obtenha um quarto,’ but that’s a literal translation, so no one really says that,” I replied. “There aren’t always good analogues for idioms like that when you’re translating to another language. I mean, you could say ‘por que vocês não continuam isso em um quarto?’ Which is like asking them to continue their activities in private, but it doesn’t really capture the spirit of the original phrase, you know?” Christ. I was babbling. I sounded like a boring ass teacher. Which I actually was, to be fair. But for fuck’s sake, why did my pedantic side have to rear its ugly head right now?
She nodded, her eyes darting around like she wasn’t sure where to look. Yeah. I totally blew that one.