“Sure,” I say, infusing more hope than belief. Eventually.
I refuse to entertain the thought that our friendship and brotherhood won’t survive.
As she closes her eyes, she says, “If loving you is my biggest sin, then I’m the ultimate sinner, because I don’t want absolution.”
I grin, displaying how proud I am of her. “That’s my woman.”
After the day she had, no wonder she quickly falls asleep. I watch her for long minutes, just to cement in my being that she’s here, all mine. No more hiding. No more secrets.
Nothing will threaten our togetherness, our life and future together, not even my best friend.
Carefully, I roll out of bed not to disturb her. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I tiptoe out and go to my home office. Knowing Enzo, he’s not asleep either.
He lets it ring. Such an asshole, letting me stew on fucking purpose. By the sixth, he picks up.
I can hear the glass tumbler grazing the table. I guess it’s on me to start the conversation.
“How is Calla?”
“Pissed at me, so I’m even more pissed at you,” he grumbles.
At least he’s talking to me. I take it as a good sign and lean back in my chair, pouring myself a glass.
“You called me. So, start talking, asshole.”
It’s the first time I am at a loss for what to say. “Maybe face-to-face would be better.”
“Maybe you not sticking your dick in my sister would have been better too, but here we are,” he grumbles low.
“Stop fucking thinking I’m a horny motherfucker who just wanted to wet his dick. I wouldn’t have risked everything just to fuck her. Don’t disrespect her like that or we’ll have a problem.”
“We already have a fucking problem,” he huffs. “I gave you the chance to come clean.”
I rack my brain, but I come up blank. “When?”
“When I came to the club and told you to sober up and tell me.”
I feel my brows furrow. “I don’t remember. I was drunk most of that week.”
“Sappy fucker.”
“Look who’s talking,” I groan.
For long minutes we drink in silence. I stare at the wall across from my home office, thinking I need to add a painting of her.So, I can always look up and remember why, even if I face hell every day, she’s worth it.
“Our fathers fucked us up,” I say, exhaling a long sigh.
“We made them out to be heroes. I wonder why?” he snickers.
“So, there’s a chance for us to be better, to do better.”
Another beat of pause follows, and I take another gulp, the hard liquid scraping at my throat, but failing to numb me.
“It was you?” He doesn’t have to say more.
“It had to be me.” I don’t add more.
“What do you think hurt Dahlia the most? As all my guesses would have been wrong, anyway.”
