“That’s what family does.” Now I just wish I could do the same for Océane.
I play with the twins in the living room while Rachel gets dinner ready. When she calls us to the table, we all happily dig in. If there’s one thing our parents did right, it was teaching us how to cook.
“Something’s different with you tonight, Will,” Rachel says in between two bites of pasta. “But I can’t put my finger on what it is.”
“He’s got a fart face!” Corey cries out. Upon hearing that, his brother starts giggling.
Karan gives them both a stern glare. “Boys, what did we say about using those types of words at the kitchen table?”
The twins give each other a look and try to stifle their laughter, then they resume eating. Or, at least, what passes as ‘eating’ when you’re a four-year-old boy. If half their food makes it into their mouths, it’s a good attempt.
“No, but really,” Rachel insists. “You’re … I don’t know. Smilier?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Smilier? Really?”
She tilts her head at me. “You know what I mean.”
I take a good bite of pasta and take my time chewing, letting the flavours dance over my tastebuds. As I do, Rachel just stares at me impatiently. Karan sports a shit-eating grin. Teasing Rachel is an activity we both love to indulge in.
When I swallow, Rachel huffs out a loud breath. But instead of saying anything of note, I simply say: “You’ve outdone yourself, Rachel. This has got to be the best carbonara I’ve ever had.”
“Oh my God,” she exclaims, almost slamming her fist on the table. Her face flushes. “Tell me what’s going on now or you’re banned from Thursday dinners forevermore.”
“But it’s Friday.”
“Will!”
As much as I want to tell her everything, I can’t. At least, not yet. I look at the twins and pinch my lips together before looking back at Rachel. “It’s a … sensitive topic.”
“You’re the worst,” Rachel mutters.
Everyone finishes their meal in casual conversation. While Rachel and Karan do the dishes, I take the boys out to the park to throw a frisbee; by the time we’re back inside after dusk, the boys are spent and ready for bed.
Karan takes over bath duty, leaving Rachel and me to enjoy a beer in the living room. She curls up on one end of the couch with a fuzzy blanket while I sit on the other end. “Okay, so what is up with you?” she asks in a hushed tone.
“I didn’t tell you this last week,” I start. “But … Sophie’s back in my life.” Her jaw drops to the floor. I don’t waste any time and catch her up on the past few weeks, including the last couple of days spent at Sophie’s place. I don’t mention punching Matt because I’m not looking for a lecture.
Rachel’s lips erupt into a huge grin. “Will, that’s amazing.” She’s always known I’m drawn to Sophie. Of course, she never encouraged me to go for it, because Sophie was always out ofbounds. But she was there to listen to me rant whenever I thought I’d met someone who could rival her … and ended up being wrong.
No matter what I did, Sophie always lived rent-free in my mind. Currently, the one thing I keep circling back to is how Sophie dismissed me yesterday—and every unspoken word that remained on my lips.
I think I’ll be just fine, she’d said, seeming only partially sure of herself. And that made me want to grab her by the shoulders and tell her,I want you to be more thanjust fine.You deserve so much more thanfine.
“I don’t know what to do, Rachel.” I sigh before taking a swig of my beer. “Matt screwed her over so badly. And she thinks I’m some sort of player, so how is she ever going to trust me to be different than him? Even if she did, wouldn’t she be weirded out to date her cheating ex’s best friend?” All of this is true. But not being close to her is suffocating me. And being close to her without touching her? It’s an acid bath. But at least I can breathe.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “Because I’m not her. I don’t know her. I’ve never even met her. All I know is your perspective of Sophie. So what I’d want in that situation is not going to be the same as what she wants.”
“Well, I’ve laid out the situation for you, and you’re smart,” I retort. “So, enlighten me. What do you think?”
Rachel takes a sip of her beer. As she thinks, her silence is layered with the sound of the boys giggling and splashing in their bath. Her eyes lose their focus, looking out in deep thought.
“How long have you been in love with Sophie again?” she finally asks.
My body stiffens. I’ve spoken about Sophie to Rachel so many times; too many times to count. Of course I feel something toward this woman. But it’s not love.
Itcan’tbe love.
“I’m not in love with her,” I say quickly.
