“Of course I’m fine.”
She paused, tapping her fingers against the granite. “So three months single, huh? Anyone else on the horizon?”
An emphaticnospilled over before I had the chance to check my tone.
Jules’ eyebrows lifted. “Well, we have a great new picturefor your dating profile. It will communicatefamilyloud and clear.”
“I’m done with apps.”
“They’ve helped you make some decent matches. Granted, notthematch, but still.”
“I’m sick of trying.”
She squinted at me then slowly rolled her eyes like I was a lost cause. “I wish you would just admit it.”
“Admit what?”
She shook her head. “That you dump everyone because you want?—”
“We’ve talked about this. That is not the reason.” How many times did I have to tell her?
“There are other women out there, Jack. You’re throwing your opportunities away.”
I’d done a good job not getting totally pissed off, but now Jules was pushing.
She continued, “You haven’t let her go. And I wish you would so you can move on and be happy and not be alone forever.”
“Can wepleasetalk about something else?”
Her posture softened as she leaned back in the chair. A look of pity washed over her and her voice lowered. “You’ll find someone else, Jack. You will.”
Would I? I’d been on the hunt a long time. I wasn’t alone for lack of trying.
To my relief, Pat re-emerged and distracted my sister from my love life.
Game night was always a good time. Pat and Jules called it one of their “anchor points.” They’d said anchors in their schedule helped them stay consistent for Sunny and forced them not to isolate when things were hard. And the Moore family dealt with a lot of hard. But game night carried on nonetheless. Two Fridays a month.
After Pat creamed everyone at Scattergories and my team won Pictionary, we called it quits and moved out to sit by the fire pit. I sat back in a porch chair and watched. Sunny and her friends were charged, and slap-stick comedy abounded from the other side of the deck. The twins were in bed. And Danny, the elderly neighbor, had joined Pat, Jules, and I around the fire.
Pat and Jules’ chairs were pulled close together. He had his arm around her, and she was tucked into his side. They sat like that every chance they got. Jules radiated contentment around Pat. He had highlighted wonderful sides of my sister I wasn’t even aware existed. She was peaceful, calm. Not chasing a high anymore. Seemed fulfilled.
If anyone was due some genuine happiness, it was Jules. I was glad for her, but couldn’t ignore the pinch in my chest. The Moore family was a sight to behold. They were blossoming together. They’d had a winding journey, but had found their place. The sense of belonging surrounded them like a thick aura.
It’s funny. I’d been better, faster, and greater at everything Jules and I ever did in life. Twin rivalry is sibling rivalry on steroids. Especially when you grew up in a house like ours—where nothing but A-game was accepted. But Jules spent her childhood years in my shadow. I had the upper hand in grades, social circles, parental favor, sports, the arts, opportunities, strength. You name it. I gloated about it too. Like an idiot.
I’d never been jealous of anything she had.
Except this.
My ribbons and accolades didn’t keep me company. Certainly didn’t keep me warm at night. I went home to an empty house, an empty bed. No sounds but the AC clicking off and on and the ice tray emptying occasionally. I stifled a sigh at the thought.
I’d outdone Jules in every way except the only way that mattered.
Here I was, going on thirty-four years old, and I’d yet to start a family of my own. I had one failed attempt under my belt, and I hated the failure more than I hated being alone.
Flames licked the darkness, pushing back the night. I found myself staring into them, lost in what-ifs and could-have-beens. My phone vibrating jerked me back to reality.
I unsnapped it from the clip and glanced at the screen. A Chicago number? Didn’t really get calls from that area ever since I moved to Nashville years ago.
