Embarrassed, I flinched. “How?”
He shrugged a shoulder so casually that it furthered my embarrassment. “I pay attention, and I’m not blind.”
We didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he sighed. “I’ve known all along, but I also knew that you were keeping it to yourself out of respect for Tempo. I never mentioned anything for the same reason. I only tried to kiss you because I’m drunk and… honestly, I need some pussy.”
Gasping, I turned my head sharply towards him. “Wow, Jerk! So, you’re not attracted to me at all? You just saw me as an ‘easy target’?”
He shook his head adamantly, but I was still hurt. “Of course, I’m attracted to you. You’re beautiful. You know that. I’d have to be dead not to see it.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered, stung.
“I’m being real. I’m attracted to you, but I respect you and the Cartier’s. And that’s exactly why I shouldn’t be trying shit in my driveway when I’m drunk. That’s not the man I want to be, especially not with you. You deserve better than that.”
My eyes burned a little at the corners.
“But it wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss, Ava. And then what? We cross a line we can’t uncross and disrespect our closest friends?”
My shoulders sank. “You’re right.”
He reached over and took my hand. It was a friendly touch, not a flirting one, and somehow that hurt a little more.
“I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” he told me.
“You mean a lot to me too, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“Then we don’t,” he said simply. “We don’t act on this. We chalk it up to liquor, a long night, and drunk hormones. We set the boundary, and we keep it. You deserve more than having to feel any guilt behind the man you’re with.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension slipping out with it. “Okay. We’re friends.”
“We’re friends,” he repeated.
We sat there for another second, with our hands still linked and the snow whispering against the windshield.
Then he let go and killed the engine. “Come on. I’m not letting you drive home ’til you sit inside and sober up some. Saint not about to skin me alive for letting his sister-in-law drive home drunk.”
I laughed. “Fair.”
We climbed out into the cold, and as we walked toward his door, my heart still ached with what almost happened and what never would. But under the ache, there was relief.
No matter my longing, I knew we had made the right decision. But I was already so jealous of the lucky woman that would eventually own Sincere’s heart.
3
RHYTHM BROOKS
My alarm went off at 6AM, and for a second I just lay there and pretended I didn’t hear it. Then Kinsley rolled over in her sleep next to me and kicked me in my chin.
Groaning, I swung my legs over the side of the mattress and winced. My back ached from falling asleep in the chair at the dining room table again. I had been painting until almost two in the morning.
The apartment was quiet, except for the soft roar of the heat and somebody’s TV playing through the wall next door. Our place was a small two-bedroom on the South Side. The kids technically shared a room, but KJ was seven now and needed his own space, so Kinsley had migrated into my room. The dining room was mostly art supplies and canvases. Laundry was piled in a basket near the door. I made a mental note to wash it tonight and tried not to think about the last time I had made that same mental note.
I went to KJ’s room. He lay sprawled sideways across his bed, with one sock off and his mouth slightly open.
“KJ,” I called, shaking him gently. “Baby, get up.”
He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Five more minutes.”
“It’s already six. You gotta be dressed in forty-five minutes or I’m going to be late for work.”
