Friend Zone

by Camilla Isley

  The girl’s face looked familiar, but… different was the word. As if something was not quite as it should be.

  “Hi,” Rose said, unable to keep her curiosity in check. “Have we met before?”

  The girl gaped at Rose, eyes wide with… surprise? Fear? It couldn’t be fear. Who would be afraid of Rose, and why?

  “Just the once,” the girl said, her tone not exactly warm. “I was a blonde when we last met, though.”

  Rose tried to mentally Photoshop the girl’s long dark strands into golden ones, seeing if she could guess where they had met.

  The girl cut her memory exercise short by saying, “I’m Alice.” She paused. “Ethan’s ex.”

  Rose couldn’t help blushing. The image of a pretty blonde girl staring daggers at her the night she’d met Ethan popped into her mind’s eye. He was dating Alice at the time and had broken up with her to start dating Rose.

  Alice was more striking as a brunette; the new hairstyle made her appear more mature.

  “Alice, sure. I’m Rose. I don’t believe we were properly introduced before.” She offered her hand, hoping Ethan’s ex didn’t hold too much of a grudge. After all, it had happened almost a year ago.

  Alice seemed to consider for a second before taking her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and quickly let go. The ex piled more chocolates on her plate and took a step backward. “I have to go back to my table. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Rose watched Alice run away, then made her way back to her own table. Ethan was gone, so she sat down to enjoy her mini desserts. While she was eating, the band started playing and people all around her stood up to dance.

  “Miss Atwood,” Ethan said, appearing next to her. “May I have the honor of a dance?” He bent forward in a hint of a bow and offered his hand.

  Rose let go of the chocolate pastry she was holding. Ethan was so much better than chocolate. She marveled once again at how much she loved him. Especially when he played the gallant, gentleman hero.

  She took his hand, smiling. “Most certainly, Mr. Smithson.”

  Ethan led her onto the dance floor. They’d never danced together, not this formally, at least. But they were doing a great job of it all the same.

  “Where did you learn to dance?” he asked.

  “I had to partake in the renowned Dallas Symphony Orchestra League Presentation Ball for debutantes,” Rose said jokingly. “What about you? I didn’t know you could dance so well.” She was honestly surprised—he was leading her like a professional.

  Ethan’s jaw tensed slightly. “Sabrina made me take lessons when we were engaged.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Rose was horrified.

  “Don’t be.” Ethan smiled his most dashing smile, making the corners of his eyes go all crinkly and igniting a sparkle in them. “At least something good came out of that engagement.” He squeezed her hand.

  Rose squeezed it back. It was the first time he’d spoken about Sabrina in a lighthearted way. Rose liked to take credit for this newfound easiness about his past.

  “Speaking of exes… did you know Alice is here?”

  “I haven’t seen her, but it figures.” Ethan spun Rose away and made her pirouette back. “Alice is Georgiana’s young sister or little sister; I never understood sorority tiers very well.”

  “She’s dyed her hair. She looks good,” Rose said provocatively, prodding Ethan’s feelings for his ex.

  “You look good.” Ethan pulled her closer. “I’m not sure if the fact that I find you hot while you’re dressed like a boy should scare me or not,” Ethan teased as he and Rose waltzed across the dance floor—a platform that had been set up in the middle of the Smithson’s family home garden.

  “I’m about to cut into your dilemma,” Rose said. “Do you think the style-gestapo will flay me if I let my hair loose? This chignon is killing me. And the bow tie is strangling! How do you guys wear these around your neck every day?” She started pulling some pins out of her hair.

  “Here, let me help…” Ethan pulled her to the edge of the garden and started working his fingers through her hair.

  When the last pin came loose, Rose shook her head and let her hair cascade down onto her shoulders. Ethan was already undoing the bow tie.

  “I have to stop now, or I’ll end up undressing you completely. It wouldn’t be very proper.”

  “No, it wouldn’t, especially not with your mother staring at us. She’s been watching us like a hawk all day. What’s up with her?”

  “Ah, my dear.” Ethan grinned. “I’m afraid that with my sister’s nuptials, I remain the sole Smithson sibling yet to be matched. I’m pretty sure my mother has designs on you.”

  “Aren’t two weddings in six months enough for her?”

  “Is the thought of joining yourself to me in holy matrimony so unappealing to you, Miss Atwood?”

  “What? No, I-I mean…” Rose was stuttering, her face searing red. “Are you serious?”

  “Why not?”

  His stare was like burning ice.

  “I thought you w-were against getting married.”

  “I’m against girls shopping for rings after one date. I’m not against getting married to the woman I love.”

  “Are you proposing?” Rose’s heart was beating way too fast.

  “Now, don’t go getting a big head, Miss Atwood…”

  She swatted him playfully. “Jerk.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a kiss.

  “I love you,” Ethan whispered. “One day, I want you to be my wife. What do you say?”

  “One day.” Rose couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “I love you, too.”

  “Now that my noble intentions are in the open, can I bring you to my room?”

  Ethan and Rose discreetly disappeared behind a bush and ran across the lawn toward the house, holding hands and laughing like a pair of kids.

  ***

  The inside of Ethan’s house was so stylish it was scary. It was an impeccable mix of rustic and modern design, a balance hard to get right. From tiny objects to each major furnishing element, everything was placed perfectly. Nothing left to chance. It was impressive but somehow made the place feel more like a museum than a lived-in home. All this flawlessness could get suffocating. Rose felt for Ethan. Being a Smithson really came with a lot of pressure attached. Imagine being an unruly kid in this house.

  Rose followed Ethan up the stairs and through a corridor with too many white doors to count. He stopped in front of one toward the end, pausing with his hand on the handle. “You’re about to have a glimpse into my teenage lifestyle.” He flung the door open and a loud snore came from within.

  Sprawled on Ethan’s bed was a bulging, middle-aged man, fast asleep.

  “Rose, meet Uncle Frank.” Ethan sighed. “He must’ve decided my room was as good a place as any to fall asleep.”

  Rose giggled, taking in what she could of Ethan’s room before he closed the door. She took inventory of his life when he was younger. Items of an over-achiever: awards, certificates, sports trophies. But also a cool, popular kid: a rock band poster, shots of him posing with his friends and lacrosse teammates. His smile was already irresistible, even back then. Then there were the obligatory family photos, stored in elegant frames his mother must have bought. They showed his well-adjusted side: his parents, Ethan with his sisters, and a photo of the entire Smithson clan.

  The door clicked shut, and they tiptoed away, careful not to wake the sleeping man.

  “We’ll have to take one of the guest rooms.” Ethan turned on his heel and headed back toward the beginning of the hall.

  He opened a random door. Before Rose could peek inside, Ethan roared and rushed into the room. Rose made to follow him but stopped dead on the threshold. She raised a hand to cover her mouth as she stared at the scene before her eyes in shocked silence.

  Ethan was holding Tyler against the wall
by the neck of his unbuttoned shirt. On the rumpled bed lay a cowering girl, her eyes big with fear. Rose took in her wrinkled bridesmaid dress, messed up hair, and kissed-away lipstick, and the reality of what had happened here hit her in the stomach.

  “I’m going to kill you, you bastard,” Ethan hissed in cold rage. He drew his elbow back, closing his hand into a tight fist, and cranking his arm back to punch Tyler in the face.

  Rose jumped forward and took a hold of her boyfriend’s arm before he could land the blow. “Ethan, stop!” she yelled.

  “What?” He turned toward her, glowering, his eyes crazed. “Are you going to defend him, even now?”

  “No, no,” Rose hurried to say. “But think: you can’t reduce his face to a pulp without having to explain what’s going on to everyone downstairs. That would be even worse for Georgiana.”

  For a split second, Ethan seemed not to care what anyone would say. But he took a deep, steadying breath and lowered his arm without hitting Tyler. Instead, he yanked Tyler off his feet and hurled him across the room, sending him crashing against a wooden dressing table. The dresser capsized and Tyler careened to the floor.

  “What are you guys doing?” Vicky, Ethan’s other sister, stepped into the room. “I could hear the noise from downstairs.” She took in the scene and closed the door behind her before demanding again, “What’s going on here?”

  Where Ethan’s rage was intense and outspoken, Vicky’s was calm and controlled, but no less brutal. Her blue eyes, the same color as Ethan’s, were cold and smoldering at the same time.

  Ethan was leaning against the wall, looking exhausted. He made an I-can’t-talk gesture and shook his head.

  Vicky turned to the girl on the bed next, who said, “I’m sorry” and began to sob.

  Rose was the only one cool enough to speak. “We came into the room and found them on the bed. Tyler must be drunk.”

  She threw a reproachful look at her best friend. Tyler was sitting on the floor with his elbows resting on his bent knees and his face hidden in his hands.

  Vicky’s cold fury turned toward the bridesmaid first. “Madison, I know you’ve always had it in for Georgiana, but this?” She waved a hand between the girl and Tyler. “On her wedding day?”

  “I’m s-sorry,” the girl whimpered.

  “She’s your cousin!” Vicky barked. “We’re family, for goodness’ sake.”

  “P-please don’t tell my parents.” The girl’s eyes seemed to become wider still.

  Vicky seemed about to spit a gruff retort, but instead, she took a deep breath and started pacing in circles, staring at the floor and holding her chin in one hand. She stopped and said, “We’re not going to tell anyone.” The middle Smithson sibling took turns staring down everyone present. “What happened here today doesn’t leave this room.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ethan raged. “Our sister married this scum bag, who couldn’t be faithful to her for half a day. Gigi has a right to know; she could get an annulment or something.”

  “Our sister isn’t going to want an annulment,” Vicky said.

  “Not even after this?”

  “I don’t think so.” Vicky shook her head. “Georgiana is too stubborn to admit she was wrong, and she’s still pregnant with his baby.”

  Rose heart broke a little as she watched pain and anger mix on Ethan’s face. “It doesn’t mean they have to stay married,” he said, “not if this is how it’s going to be.”

  “Ethan.” Vicky was not backing down. “I’m sorry to break it you, but as much as I love her, our sister lied to him about being on the pill. She maneuvered to get herself pregnant. Georgiana forced this on him, knowing what she was doing all along.”

  Rose agreed with everything Vicky was saying, and she was glad that for once she wasn’t the one who had to tell Ethan. Whenever Rose tried to point out that this was a two-person mess, and that Georgiana wasn’t exactly an innocent victim, Ethan left on the jealousy wagon, making it all about her history with Tyler. He’d never forgiven Rose for not allowing him to tell Georgiana that Tyler had cheated on her with Rose. Ethan was convinced Georgiana would not be pregnant now if she had known. Rose wasn’t so sure, and to have someone else reason with him was a welcome novelty. They’d already had too many arguments about Tyler and, frankly, defending her best friend was getting harder and harder. Rose was ashamed of him, and also of the tiny part of herself that was relieved it wasn’t her that had married Tyler.

  Rose stared up at Ethan, the man she loved with all her heart, the man who’d saved her, and she wished she had a way to comfort him. He looked so anguished.

  “Well,” Ethan said, then took his rage out on the ottoman at the base of the bed with a violent kick. “No one forced him to propose or to cheat on our sister on their wedding day!”

  The statement seemed to give Vicky pause. She crouched on the floor next to Tyler. “You. Hey, you!” She snapped her fingers in his face. “Look at me.”

  Tyler slowly lifted his head.

  “What happened here?”

  Thirty-eight

  Tyler

  “I freaked out,” Tyler said, barely able to focus on Georgiana’s sister crouched next to him. “People kept telling me all these marriage and new-daddy jokes, and I just started downing one drink after the other, and I lost it…” What a pathetic excuse. He was pathetic. If he couldn’t keep it together for a few hours, how was he going to manage a lifetime? “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Fair enough. Listen.” Vicky paused until Tyler’s eyes focused on hers. “I know you didn’t ask to be a father, but you’re going to become one, anyway. As our nephew or niece’s dad, you’re part of the family now no matter what.” Vicky was talking in a calm, polite voice that surprised Tyler. “Now, you can be a good father even if you’re not married to our sister,” Vicky continued. “Was this a last minute case of cold feet, or is it how you plan to behave from now on?”

  Tyler’s pulse raced. What did he want? He wanted to be a good dad, and for his child to grow up with two parents. So what was he doing here?

  “Th-this is not…” he stuttered. “It wasn’t… I want to try.”

  “Okay. You get this one pass.” Vicky raised one finger eye-level between them. “And that’s it.”

  Ethan emitted a disbelieving grunt from his corner. Tyler didn’t dare look at him. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be he and Rose who had walked in on him? Still better than my pregnant wife, Tyler thought. The weight of what he had almost done to his wife made him sick. What if Ethan and Rose hadn’t been here? Would he have had sex with Georgiana’s cousin? Probably, yes. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Vicky stood up. “Go wash your face and pull yourself together.” She offered him a hand and helped him up off the floor.

  Tyler did as he was told and disappeared into the en-suite bathroom. He didn’t dare meet anyone’s eye, particularly not Rose’s. In one look, he’d be able to read all her thoughts, and he couldn’t cope with the reproach and disappointment he was bound to find written in her dark eyes. Tyler gently closed the door behind himself and braced his arms on either side of the sink. He stared in the mirror.

  Someone he didn’t like stared back. Georgiana wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t deserve this. More than everything, his unborn child did not deserve to come into the world in a broken family. He’d been stupid and weak. Tyler shook his head. How had this whole mess even started?

  During the banquet, Tyler remembered shuffling around the tables alongside Georgiana. She’d made him take turns greeting all the guests. His relatives, her relatives, friends from Boston, friends from Texas, there had been so many. Every group ready to offer advice or words of wisdom. Tyler had smiled and endured it. They had drunk a toast at each table—well, Georgiana hadn’t, she was sticking to virgin mimosas—but Tyler had downed one glass of champagne after the other. He’d needed the alcohol to endure jab after jab about married life, newbor
ns, and shrinking bank accounts. His anxiety had grown with every new joke. He had another year left in school, and yet he was already expected to provide for a wife and a child. Tyler came from a wealthy family, as did Georgiana, so money wasn’t a problem—in theory. Provided he kept asking his parents for support. With Georgiana’s expensive tastes, he couldn’t buy a bigger home, repay student loans, and sustain a family without economic help from his parents. So that was his independence flying out the window, and it sucked.

  When the meal finally ended, Tyler had left his table with the excuse of needing some air. He had gone to hide behind a tall hedge that shielded him from view. The girl, Madison, Georgiana’s cousin—he hadn’t known she was her cousin at the time—was there hiding, too. They’d started talking, then he’d asked her if there was a place he could wash his face. She’d shown him to the downstairs bathroom, but there was a line so they’d gone upstairs. Madison said he could use one of the guest rooms, and before he knew what was happening, they were kissing on the bed instead. He was cheating on his wife three hours after they got married.

  Never again.

  He’d be a father soon. It didn’t matter if Georgiana had tricked him, that he hadn’t asked for this, and that he was scared as hell. He already loved this child with all his heart; nothing else mattered.

  Tyler stared hard at himself, vowing not to be the kind of d-bag who cheated on his wife. Turning on the tap, he splashed cold water on his face. This had been his wake-up call. Vicky was right—the situation sucked. But since he had decided to marry Georgiana, he had to give the marriage a fair shot.

  Tyler finished washing his face then straightened his spine, his jaw set with determination. He buttoned his shirt, adjusted his cuffs, and re-did the knot of his bowtie until it looked impeccable. There, the image of the perfect groom. One pass, Vicky had said. That’s all he needed; he would not screw up again.

  Thirty-nine