Dating My Brother's Best Friend

by Kate Swain

  “Addison,” he said.

  “What about her?” I was genuinely confused. Was she okay? What had happened? Did the dealership need something? It was only after I’d thought of all the possible problems that I remembered what had happened.

  “It’s that she keeps coming in here,” he said. “I think she wants to talk to you. Could you?”

  “Could I what?”

  He sighed. “Talk to her, Mark. I can’t tell her that you’re not interested in her. You ought to.”

  I swallowed. “Okay,” I said. I frowned at him, unsure if that was really what was bothering her.

  “She said she would be at the cafe. Maybe you could talk to her there? It’s better than if you do it here, with everyone around.”

  “I know,” I nodded. I felt nervous. “Okay. Thanks, Carter.”

  “All the best.”

  I walked out, feeling awful. I really had caused trouble. I had no idea how to sort it out. I did not even know what happened! It didn’t seem possible to me, but it sounded like Addison was clearly upset that I hadn’t gotten in touch. And I still didn’t have the nerve to face Adam. I had lost my chance with a wonderful woman, and hurt another.

  “I’m an asshole.”

  I swallowed hard. I really was as bad as everyone said. At least, in some ways I was. The truth was, that I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean to be too afraid to pursue Maddy.

  And I hadn’t meant to get so drunk.

  I saw Addison in the doorway. “Addison,” I said, “Carter said that…”

  “I need to talk with you,” she said. Her voice was tight and cold. I tensed.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Look, I’m sorry about the other night. I was completely drunk. I don’t remember anything…”

  “You’d better be sorry,” she said tightly. “I took you home so you would make it home safely. My colleagues all saw and now they are talking.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Look, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you problems. I, um…”

  She tensed, and I thought that for a moment she might slap me. She didn’t.

  “Mark, you’ve hurt my reputation. And, nothing even happened between us. The least you can do is fix it.”

  “Fix it?” I swallowed hard. “Look, what can I…”

  “Say something,” she said tightly. “Say we are dating, so they don’t think I just hooked up with you for a night.”

  I frowned at her. “Look, Addison,” I said, still trying to figure this all out. “I don’t want to cause trouble. But I can’t say we are dating. You see,” I said, thinking quickly. “I’m already dating someone.”

  “You are?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t, but that was only because I was a horrid coward. And, I did not want to be with her. She was trouble. If I had any sense, I would be with Maddy and that was what I wished happened.

  “You asshole,” she whispered.

  I nodded. “Yes, I am,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I was stupid for letting you drive me home that night.” I wasn’t going to argue.

  “You are the worst,” she hissed. “You have made me look like an idiot!” her eyes were wide. I saw her stride out into the rain.

  “Addison, please,” I said, grabbing her hand. She spun around, eyes narrowed in anger.

  “Mark, who the hell do you think you are? Leave me alone.”

  I winced. We were near the shop, which was just across the street. She was standing in the rain, getting wet. I felt bad.

  “Listen, Addison,” I said gently. “Please. Just come inside. Have a coffee.” I knew how badly I had behaved, and I really did want the chance to make it up.

  “A coffee?” she was quiet now. She sounded dangerous. “You have made a fool of me. And you think you can make it better, like this?” Her eyes lashed me, and I started to realize just how mad she was at me.

  “It’s wet,” I pointed at the parking-lot. “You don’t have a raincoat. Please, at least come with me back to the shop where I can grab an umbrella or something.”

  She followed me across the street. We paused in the hallway. I got my umbrella, hoping that loaning it to her would lessen her anger.

  “Please,” I said. I held it out, like an offering. She stared at me.

  “Mark, save your courtesy for the other girl. She’ll need it.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. I was worried about that statement. It sounded ominous to me. Maybe I was just paranoid. But there was something in that hard tone that touched me.

  “It means what I said,” she said cryptically. “Keep an eye on the other girl.”

  She walked out into the rain.

  “What other girl?”

  I spun around, seeing Matt and Carter at the door and all ears. I stared at them, again trying to figure out what to do next. Had they been there listening to my entire talk? Yes, I was sure they heard everything.

  “Guys…”

  “Sorry,” Carter said. “We were concerned. She seemed like she was capable of anything.”

  “Bro,” I began, and then I ran out of words. They looked back at me with empty faces.

  I shook my head. “We should get back to work. I am sorry for all this,” I said. They had all stopped work, even Adam who had witnessed the whole scene too. They were all looking at me, all listening. I felt ashamed.

  “It’s fine,” Carter said.

  “No, it isn’t. We need to finish the work orders for today,” I said lightly, trying to leave what just happened behind. “The orders need to be done by today’s end.”

  Carter raised an eyebrow. “Strong stuff.”

  I shot him a look. “You raised me to finish what I started. You did that.”

  “No,” Carter said lightly, resting a hand on my shoulder. “That is all you. You are a committed and dedicated worker. We can talk about Addison, and this woman you are dating, later.”

  I felt better, even if there was still some explaining to do. It was good to know that, if nothing else, my brothers cared. “Come on,” I said evenly. “We really do need to get back to work. Where’s the parts for the Harley?”

  “They are there on the workbench,” Carter said gently. “Matt is helping me with the Honda.”

  “Thanks,” I said, grateful to be back to something I could handle and control. Why did I struggle so much with emotions? Later, I told myself.

  I went to fetch the parts and the new tires. When I finished the Harley a couple of hours later, I noticed I was shaking. Adam noticed, too.

  “Hungry, man?” Adam asked.

  “No, not really,” I said. I was actually, but that wasn’t why I was shaking. It was the stress. Something about that encounter opened up so many emotions about Maddy and my own behavior. Addison’s threat was also on my mind. What was she capable of?

  You’re being silly.

  “Sure you’re not hungry?” Adam asked. “We’re getting takeout at the deli.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged, then asked, “what are you getting today?”

  “A pastrami sandwich. Show him the menu,” Adam said to Matt, who was looking through the colorful menu.

  “Thanks,” I said to Matt. I put in my order for a meatball sandwich.

  “No problem.” Adam dug in his wallet for some money, then looked to me. “That was very hectic earlier.”

  “You mean…” I moved my head in the direction of the hallway.

  “Yeah. What happened, man? And what was all that about you dating another woman?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I said tightly.

  19

  Maddy

  I stood in my studio, watching the rain fall. I shivered a little. The heat worked surprising well for such a big, old building and on the inside it was warm. It was my nerves.

  “Come on, Barnes,” I told myself sternly. Pull yourself together.

  I had performed in theaters dozens of times during my university years. This was only going to be for a small audience. Still, I had opening night
jitters. Perhaps it was related to the possibility of Mark being there, even though I had told Becca I preferred that he not be there. But what did that matter, I asked myself.

  I had no reason to be nervous.

  I stood on my toes, flexing and bending my feet. It was a trick from my student days for managing the nerves before a performance. This was different, though. This time, it was more than a performance.

  Tonight, I was launching my dream.

  Tonight, I was in charge of presenting my vision and myself to the public. I had organized the advertising, catering, cleaning, interior design…everything the studio needed to flourish. The whole event rested on me, not just the dancing. This was not like my usual performances, but something bigger.

  Part of me felt unsupported and that everything had rested on me.

  I bit my lip, knowing that wasn’t true. Not even remotely. Becca had been there for me through the whole process, from start to right now. She had just left after helping all day get the studio ready for the big event. I think what bothered me was Mark. He said he was going to be there for me and support me, but then he vanished.

  You need to get him out of your mind.

  Looking around the interior, I had to admit it was cozy. The lighting was great and there was tinsel and other decorations to make it a beautiful, welcoming space. I burned sandal-wood incense and the place smelled great. It would smell even better when the food arrived. It was a good space.

  “And I’m ready now.”

  I went to the back of the studio and my stomach was rolling. It was the nerves, I told myself. Maybe the cleaning products I used earlier.

  I breathed deeply. I should go through my dance once more. Then double check my dance outfit. I had planned it so that I would start the evening with the performance, then give a short talk about the studio. Then people could mingle and socialize.

  I pulled off my sweater and put on my workout clothes. I felt sick.

  “It’s nerves, you,” I told my reflection firmly as I crossed to the front of the room, looking at the mirrors that lined the wall of the studio.

  I knew it wasn’t nerves. I’d felt sick this morning. I never felt sick like this on the morning of a performance. And I knew that it wasn’t because I was worried about the catering or anything else. Becca had helped make sure everything was taken care of. I fully trusted her, and knew it would go well. It was something else.

  I began stretching. Maybe, I thought, I was getting the flu. That could be it. It was the right time of year for the flu and I have been a little stressed.

  But it didn’t feel like the flu. This felt different. More like the crampy, nauseous feeling before a late period, but worse.

  It could be a late period, now that I thought about it. I hadn’t had my period last week as expected, and my breasts were tender. I wondered if I should go home to fetch some medication. There had to be something that would help.

  “Maddy?” I heard somebody call me from the hallway.

  “Becca?” I called, hoping that she would hear me. “I’m coming.”

  As I ran across the floor, I winced at the tenderness in my breasts. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I had missed my period this month.

  No, I told myself crossly. It couldn’t be that. I couldn’t be pregnant from Mark, could I?

  I didn’t know that, though. It could be.

  “Maddy!” Becca said, bursting in. She had brought flowers, and she was wrapped in a thick coat. “Hurray! How’s it going?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. In this moment, I was confused.

  Becca frowned at me. “Girl, are you okay?” she dug in her pocket and found a tissue, then traced it down my cheek. “You’re losing your mascara.” She smiled gently.

  “Thanks,” I said, sniffing. Becca’s tenderness brought me back to the present. “Can I have that?” I took the tissue from her.

  “Sure,” she nodded.

  I blew my nose, wiping my cheeks to make sure that there was no trace of crying. I was scared, and confused, and hurt and suddenly, it was all coming out. All the emotions I had tried so hard to conceal, even from myself. At the same time, I was happy. My studio was beautiful—clean, perfectly lit and decorated, welcoming, and ready for tonight. And it was an hour before the guests would arrive.

  “Maddy, listen, I need to run an errand. I’ll be back for the opening. The wine should arrive soon,” Becca said.

  “The wine?” I frowned, then nodded. I had forgotten that Becca had ordered wine and rented fancy wine glasses. I swallowed hard. There was room on the table we’d set up, but I hoped I could handle the final details and be ready for my performance.

  “Yeah. When Leshane from the wine company arrives, tell him hi and thank you,” she said.

  “I will,” I nodded. “Thanks again for everything. See you soon.”

  When she’d gone, I paced down the room, checking things. Looking at the details distracted me from the big worry that was starting to become more compelling. I was pregnant. I felt certain of it.

  You don’t know yet.

  I swallowed hard. I needed to worry about this later. Tomorrow, I’d go to the pharmacist and buy a test and check for myself. In the meantime, I had enough to worry about.

  I was walking to the front of the studio again when the door buzzed again. I hurried to open it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, ma’am! You’re Ms. Barnes?” A tall man, dressed in a uniform asked me.

  “That’s right,” I nodded. “You’re from the wine company?”

  “Yes, I am,” the man grinned. “Leshane Davis.” He held out a hand.

  “Hi, I am Maddy. Becca says hi by the way.” I shook his hand, glad to have the presence of another person to get me out of my head.

  “Great,” he nodded. “I’ll start with the wine glasses—they’re pretty heavy. Where do you want them set up?” he asked.

  “On the table,” I said, gesturing towards the long table Becca had set up.

  Leshane brought in the boxes and began organizing the glasses on the table. It was getting late and the guests would be arriving soon. I thought I would help Leshane with the wine.

  It was raining as I walked out to his truck. There were several boxes of wine with my name on it. I looked in, holding an umbrella against the icy rain. It was freezing outside. I lifted one of my boxes, struggling to steady it.

  “Maddy?” a voice called out as I turned with the box of wine in my arms, doing my best to keep my balance. “Let me.”

  I turned around and found myself looking into Mark’s face.

  I felt my heart stop. Joy at seeing him mixed with sadness. “It’s okay,” I said coldly. I began to carry the box to the front door. His face fell into sadness and his blue eyes looked concerned.

  “Please,” he repeated, taking the box from me. “It’s not heavy.”

  I wanted to smile, but it was too hard. The hurt would always be greater than the joy. Still, I let him haul the boxes indoors. Strangely, seeing him again, I felt no anger. Only a deep sadness for us both.

  I followed him in, standing in the hallway. I should stay inside where it was warm. My muscles needed to be warm for my dance.

  “Maddy,” Mark said as he came out to get the rest of the things from the truck. “Stay here. It’s cold. I can do this by myself.”

  “Thanks,” I said softly.

  His eyes held mine and I saw regret and sadness there. I made myself look away. I should be angry with him. I should forget about him. I didn’t need anything from him, or for him to be here.

  “I need to go and get ready for tonight,” I said quietly.

  “Yes. You do that. Let me finish out here,” he said. I could hear the pain in his voice and I wished I could talk with him. But I knew what he was—a player who should not be trusted. Nothing was going to change despite his behavior right now.

  “Thanks,” I said, and made myself walk back into the hall.

  When I got to the changing room to p
ut on my outfit and makeup, I felt the anger rise and replace the feelings of sadness and pain. How could I have let Becca invite him? Why did I do that?

  “Damn him.”

  I reached for my makeup bag and put on red lipstick. I took off my coat and clothes and put on my beautiful red dress. I looked in the mirror. It clung tightly to my upper body, showing off my powerful body, and flowed loosely around my strong legs.

  I whirled in front of the mirror and in that moment I was transformed: I transcended the pain and the hurt and the horror and the nervousness of the event. I was a dancer. I lived and breathed this role and I was ready give the audience a performance they would never forget.

  I heard Becca return, just in time to welcome the first guests. I took a deep breath and walked out into the front of the room.

  I was a dancer, and this was my world.

  I shook out my hair and let it fall around my shoulders. Then, I stepped out into the studio.

  20

  Mark

  I stood at the front of the studio, off to the side of the crowd, feeling my heart ache. I looked in the mirror on the side wall. I had lines there I couldn’t remember seeing. My eyes were cold, my face stiff as if I was holding back tears.

  “Look at you,” I stared at myself. “Almost thirty, and what have you done?”

  I was still a little wet from the rain, and the cold brought out the wrinkles on my forehead, but this image in the mirror wasn’t what had brought on this sudden critical self-assessment. I was a mess. Somehow, seeing my reflection highlighted all the things I had done and not done in my life, and all the things I was and was not.

  I had spent my life hiding from everything that should give life meaning.

  I looked at the studio. I could see tinsel and festive decorations in there. It was bright and warm and cozy. I could also see silk with a striking scarlet color. I was shut out of that world. It was Maddy’s world, a bright place of joy and color and happiness.

  I had shut myself out.

  “Damn it,” I swore under my breath. I trudged out into the ice-cold evening. I would get the rest of the wine boxes.