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“It’s fine. It would never have worked out anyway.”
This is something I tell myself all the time, and it’s probably true. I just wish it felt true.
“Maybe you were meant to meet me here instead,” she suggests.
I really hope she’s right.
34
Erin
Present
By Thursday morning, when I meet Brendan at the airport for our trip to Olivia’s race, I’m recovered enough to at least pretend things are fine. And I’m really not that upset. Not too upset, certainly, to think about how good Brendan looks in everything. Right now he’s wearing khaki shorts and a navy T-shirt—nothing fancy, and he still looks completely edible.
I assume Brendan’s heard from Rob by now. He’s probably waiting on me to bring it up, which I don’t plan to do because it’s really nothing I want to discuss. I’m just grateful he’s behaving as if things are normal.
“I have to warn you,” I tell him as we find our seats. “There’s something about planes that puts me to sleep. So I’m probably going to snore or drool on you.”
“How’s poor Rob ever going to join the mile-high club if you’re always asleep?”
My smile falters a little. He must know. Perhaps he’s just heard Rob’s take on our split, which is that we’re undeniably getting back together.
“Have you met Rob? Can you actually imagine him doing that?”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “But you would?”
“No comment.”
“I always imagined you’d have a little wild side.”
“Spent a lot of time imagining me in bed, have you?” I tease.
His eyes linger on my mouth for one long moment, during which my heart seems to flop over, again and again.
“No comment. Go to sleep, Erin.”
I close my eyes, certain we’ve just had the one conversation that could make sleep impossible. How many times have I fantasized about having sex with Brendan? Countless. How many times have I squeezed my eyes shut, even with Rob, and pictured Brendan’s face? I feel guilty about it, yes, but is it really so different than what anyone else does? I guess it’d be better if it weren’t my fiance’s best friend, but Brendan was in my head long before I even knew Rob existed. And there’s only so much control you can exert over your own brain. God knows I’ve tried.
* * *
We land and get the rental car. It's a 45-minute drive from the Reno airport to Tahoe, where we plan to take a quick hike before heading up to Squaw Valley. This means 45 minutes of watching Brendan’s thighs flex when he brakes, his broad hand resting on the gear shift, the way he leans back in his seat like he rules the entire fucking world. The effect of watching Brendan drive could be described as mildly pornographic without having just had the dirtiest dream possible about him on the flight here. So I’m either the luckiest girl alive right now, or the most tortured. Both, perhaps.
I sneak a glance at him—the clean lines of his profile, his clearly delineated biceps even when he’s not flexing. I should be too upset for lust right now, but obviously I am not. And the very fact that I’ve spent weeks lusting after someone other than Rob, and that I’m doing so now, makes me think perhaps I don’t have quite as much moral high ground with the Christina thing as I’d like to believe.
“So why haven’t you gone over to Amsterdam since Rob left?” Brendan asks abruptly, almost as if he’s read my mind. I wonder if he’s blaming me for the break-up, the same way I’m blaming myself to some extent.
“I guess I should have,” I reply. “But at first he wasn’t going for long, and he always works such long hours here, I figured he wouldn’t have time for me anyway.” Clearly he’s had plenty of time for Christina, however.
“If I were you, I’d have gone over just to get laid. I don’t know how you’ve held out this long, to be honest.”
I assume what he’s actually saying is that he understands why Rob couldn’t hold out this long, and it annoys me.
"You probably can’t imagine holding out for a week,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “But that’s something I can take care of on my own when I need to."
“Jesus,” he groans. "Don’t say things like that."
"What's wrong with that? Guys do it. Why shouldn't I?"
