by T. K. Leigh
“What?” His voice was harsh. “Didn’t think I would, considering you’ve ignored Jessie?”
I shrank into myself. I’d hoped Asher would be more compassionate, as he always had been toward me. Then again, I wasn’t family. Jessie was. When push came to shove, his loyalties would stay with his brother. Not me.
“It’s…complicated,” I argued in my defense. “We agreed to take a break from each other.”
He widened his stance, making his already tall physique appear even more intimidating. “As my phone calls to you these past few weeks should indicate, I’m aware. Am I to now assume this break is over?”
I should have known to expect an interrogation when I’d asked Asher to help. I just hadn’t realized it would be this difficult to discuss this with him. It felt…wrong. In the two years I’d dated Jessie, not once did I talk about our relationship with Asher. He never brought it up, either, like it was a permanent elephant in the room we were both content to ignore.
“To be honest, I don’t know.” I pushed past him, but he caught up to me easily.
“If you’re still unsure, why did you come?”
I shrugged as I followed him toward the front door. “My mother convinced me it wasn’t fair to carry on like this. That I needed to either agree to resolve our differences or walk away. So that’s what I’m here to do.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my shoulders falling. “I’m just not sure which path I’ll take.”
“When do you plan to figure that out? Jessie’s flight is landing soon.”
“I’ll know when I look into his eyes.”
He cocked a brow. “His eyes?”
I nodded. “My mother’s advice. She said I’d know it’s love, that it’s worth it, if I looked into his eyes and saw a piece of myself staring back.”
“That’s it? You’ll look into his eyes and hope it gives you the right answer to a life-altering decision?”
“That about sums it up,” I said, climbing up the front porch and coming to a stop by the door, lowering my head. “Of course, now that you say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Iz…” He exhaled, his voice softening as the atmosphere shifted from one of friends to something…different. “Look at me.”
On a hard swallow, I lifted my eyes to his, time seeming to stand still. If my life were a movie, this would have been the scene where the background faded out and everything happened in slow motion. Where the seconds stretched into hours as we connected on a level we never had before.
I blinked as I peered into his deep pools. My breathing became ragged, my mouth grew dry, my pulse increased. A warmth spread through me, a sensation of euphoria making me feel like I could fly. Wasn’t this how I should have felt when I looked into Jessie’s eyes? Why was this happening with Asher?
“Iz…,” he said again, closing the distance between us.
“Yes?” I replied shakily.
He raked his gaze over me, studying every breath, every heartbeat, every blink. His lips parted, as if on the cusp of telling me something he’d been keeping locked inside for ages. Then he shook his head, stepping back, the tension breaking. Or perhaps I imagined it was there to begin with.
“Maybe your mother’s right. Maybe one look is all you need.” Averting his eyes, he reached into his jacket and grabbed a set of keys, handing them to me. “Good luck with whatever you decide.”
“Thanks.” I took the keys from him, brushing off my unsettled emotions. I turned toward the door, inserting the key into the lock. The sooner I was alone, the better.
“Izzy…,” Asher said once more, and I lifted my head, but didn’t meet his stare.
“Yes?”
“I…” He licked his lips, clearly out of sorts.
“Yes?” I repeated.
Then he sighed. “I hope you get the answer you need.” When he didn’t immediately walk away, I chanced a glimpse into his eyes. There was a sadness within I hadn’t noticed before, almost like he could sense this may be the last time we’d see each other. Then he turned, making his way down the driveway and back to his car.
Once he drove off, I opened the door and slipped into the house, breathing in the familiar scent. It brought back memories of my time with Jessie. Cooking together in the kitchen. Watching movies on the large projection screen in the back yard. Sitting together on the swing on the front porch. From the very beginning, he did everything to make me a priority. To shower me with compassion, admiration…love. Hell, he even moved back into his parents’ house to save money so we could afford our own place once we were married.
I continued past the foyer and into the living room, snapping on the lights to make the house appear more lived in. Checking my watch, I noted that Jessie’s flight had just landed, so he’d probably be home within an hour. Heat prickled my skin, my stomach fluttering at the thought. Not out of excitement. More out of nerves, still unsure of the path to take, whether I truly was ready to commit myself to him for the rest of my life, regardless of what I saw in his eyes.
With the minutes ticking by, I grabbed a notebook out of my purse and made myself comfortable on the couch. Opening to a fresh sheet of paper, I drew a line down the center. On one side I wrote “Pros”, the other “Cons”. I hoped this would give me the answer I needed.
Sadly, the only pro I came up with was that Jessie treated me well.
After staring at the page with a grocery list of cons and only one pro for an inordinately long time, I shoved my notebook into my bag, not wanting it to taunt me any further. Falling back onto the couch, I stared at the ceiling, wondering if I made a mistake in coming up here. Maybe it was impulsive to jump into my car and barge in on Jessie’s life after weeks of no communication. I’d hoped by surrounding myself with memories of us, I’d know what to do. But it only served to confuse me more.
I toyed with where my ring sat on my finger, the simple band and stone more like a burden than a symbol of Jessie’s love and devotion. I didn’t want it to feel like that. I wanted to feel Jessie’s love. Needed it.
Releasing a frustrated groan, I stood, pacing the room, when a framed photo on the mantle caught my eye. I came to an abrupt stop in front of it. To most, it would appear to be an innocent photo commemorating what should have been a joyous event — Jessie’s proposal. Grams had wanted to capture the moment and asked us to pose for a photo. At the last minute, she’d ordered Asher to join us.
I closed my eyes, trying to return to that day, to experience that same bliss I was sure I had after I’d agreed to marry Jessie. I replayed everything in my mind. Watching Jessie lower himself to one knee. Gasping when he withdrew a ring box and presented it to me. Jessie fumbling over his words as he asked me to marry him. There was no elaborate speech or declaration of love, but those things didn’t matter to me.
I squeezed my eyes tighter, attempting to remember. Most women could probably recall every detail of the moment the love of their life proposed. For me, it was a blur, apart from the fact that I now wore a ring. But as I forced myself back in time, another memory returned to the surface… Asher’s eyes studying me, begging me to say no. Jessie had asked me to be his wife, yet in the split second before I’d agreed, I’d sought out Asher’s gaze. Not Jessie’s.
Worse, in that heartbeat, I’d wished it were Asher on one knee.
Not Jessie.
I flung my eyes open, gasping for air as the truth hit me with the force of a freight train. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t think.
It wasn’t true. I would have realized it much earlier if it were, wouldn’t I? This was merely the result of my relationship with Jessie being in limbo this past month. But as I floated my eyes back to the photograph, to Asher’s image, to the way he peered upon me with sadness and adoration, I couldn’t avoid the truth.
I loved Asher. I loved our easy conversations. I loved the hours I spent listening to him strum his guitar as we stayed up and watched the sunrise over the lake together. I loved the way he always looked at me as if
I were the only woman in the world.
The sound of the door opening startled me, and I jumped, darting my gaze toward the entryway, my heart thundering in my chest. What should I say to Jessie? I had to tell him something. He noticed whenever I was a bit…off. And I was more than a bit off. I was petrified.
Suddenly, giggling interspersed with moans filtered into the room. I froze, staring as the man I was supposed to marry kissed another woman. And not just any other woman… Candace. His ex who never seemed to understand they’d broken up. I should have been upset. Should have been heartbroken.
And I was, but not because of Jessie.
Because of Asher.
Because I’d somehow fallen in love with Asher while dating his brother.
Because I’d fallen in love with a man I could never have.
Consumed by my thoughts, I didn’t realize my grip on the photo loosened until it crashed to the floor, the glass shattering. Jessie tore away from Candace, searching the space until his gaze fell on me. His complexion paled, eyes widening.
“Izzy…” Panic overtook him as he rushed to me, his shoes crunching against the glass.
I looked at the photo. The irony that I was posed between these two brothers in the picture wasn’t lost on me. How had I allowed myself to fall for both of them? To come between them?
He dropped to his knees, not caring about the shards of glass cutting into his skin. The stench of alcohol was strong as I met his eyes. In that moment, my heart broke for him. For what I did to him. For how my heart betrayed him. Should he have sought comfort in another woman’s arms? Of course not. But I didn’t believe he’d intentionally do that to hurt me. I knew the type of person Candace was — calculating, vindictive, manipulative.
Asher had repeatedly reached out to me over the past month, telling me Jessie was in a bad place after our break. Now I saw it. It didn’t help that he’d probably consumed more than enough alcohol tonight to impair his judgment.
As I peered at him, the anguish covering him made me reconsider this course of action. But how could I stay with him when his brother owned a piece of my heart? If Asher weren’t a part of his everyday life, maybe things would have been different. I could have immersed myself in our relationship, pushed all memories of Asher from my brain, forcing my heart to only think of Jessie.
But that would never be possible when I’d see him at dinner every Sunday night. When he’d stand next to Jessie as we said our vows to each other.
With shaky hands, I slid the ring off my finger, holding it out to him, tears falling from my eyes. But I wasn’t crying for Jessie. I was crying because of everything else I was about to lose.
“No,” he slurred. “Please, Iz. I’m not…” He tugged at his hair, making him look unkempt and desperate. A man at the end of his rope. “I’m not thinking clearly. I haven’t been able to since you left. Fuck! I didn’t even notice your car was parked out front. That’s how off I am. Please, Izzy. Let’s just try again.”
I shook my head, my voice trembling. “I can’t do that.”
Now that I realized my feelings for Asher, I couldn’t wear Jessie’s ring. Couldn’t go to his bed without wondering what it would be like to be with Asher. Couldn’t savor his touch without wishing it were Asher’s calloused fingers skating over my skin instead.
His sobs echoed as Candace looked on with smug satisfaction, probably thinking she’d won, that he’d chosen her over me, something she’d been hoping for since the first time we’d met. But there was no winner or loser in this game.
I brushed by him and collected my purse. Just as I was about to push my way past Candace, I paused, glancing back at Jessie’s broken frame, his eyes pleading with me. I would have given anything to go to him and offer him the comfort he deserved. He didn’t deserve this. Neither one of us did. But there would be other girls. He only had one brother.
“I’m sorry.” I held his gaze a moment longer. Then I walked away, with no intention of seeing him again.
Or Asher.
Chapter Nine
Present Day
I run my fingers over a familiar image, surprised to see it back in a frame and placed prominently on the dresser in Jessie’s room at Grams’ lake house. It brings back so many memories. Not just of the day Jessie and I got engaged, but also of the day I ended things with him. It’s remarkable how one photograph can bring forward memories of two polarizing events. A beginning. And an end.
I wonder why Jessie kept this photo, why he chose to display it up here. Then again, maybe he didn’t. Maybe someone else did, knowing the memories it would evoke. The feelings it would evoke.
“It worked, I see.”
The unexpected voice causes me to all but jump out of my skin. In my surprise, I drop my hold on the frame, which clatters to the floor, the glass cracking.
I whirl around, my pulse racing. Not at the invasion into my semi-private space, but at what Grams would think when she saw the photo I’d been admiring.
“What worked?”
She approaches me with little difficulty, despite her ninety years. She certainly doesn’t look her age, her petite, slender body dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple cream-colored sweater. Her hair is a vibrant shade of platinum. Her skin wears the evidence of her age, but not to the extent one would think. In truth, she doesn’t look a day older than she did when I last saw her.
“My plan, of course.”
“Your plan?” I throw her a sideways glance, still confused.
“To reunite you with my grandson.”
“Jessie and I aren’t reunited. Not like that.”
She gives me a mischievous look. “Not that grandson.”
“Grams…,” I warn.
“It’s curious, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“How the frame broke.” She nods to the shattered glass on the floor.
I scramble to pick it up, collecting the pieces in my hands. What is it about this damn photo? I’m beginning to think it’s cursed. “It was an accident. I’ll replace—”
“That’s not what I mean, my darling Isabella.” She holds my gaze for a moment, her blazing green to my dull brown. “I meant where it broke. Some might say it’s a sign of what’s to come.”
I look down at the frame. The glass is fractured between Jessie and me, a spider web of cracks obscuring him from being visible. All that’s left is me. And Asher.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I fumble. “This—”
“I always wondered about the two of you.” A smirk tugs on her lips.
“Who? Jessie and me?” I ask, my voice nearly pleading with her.
“I think we both know I’m not talking about Jessie.” She places her hands on my biceps, her comforting touch like coming home after a long absence.
“There’s nothing going on between Asher and me.” I set the broken frame on the dresser, stepping away from it, as if it holds some contagious disease.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course.”
“Then why are you here?”
I open my mouth, then quickly snap it shut. Why am I here? I can’t tell her it’s because I’m getting paid to be here, although that’s my main motivation for agreeing. At least that’s what I keep insisting, despite my heart telling me there’s a bigger reason. A deeper reason.
“Does your silence mean you don’t know? Or are you too scared to admit it to yourself?”
When I dated Jessie, Grams was one of the few people I could always confide in. In fact, she was the first person I raised my doubts to regarding my engagement. At first, it was exciting. But as summer turned into fall and I began my junior year of college, the fact we were at different stages of our lives came into sharp focus. The semester had only just started, and I already felt myself slipping away from my normal circle of friends because Jessie wanted me to attend his work functions with him.
So instead of donning a t-shirt and a pair of jeans before heading to check out the l
ocal music scene with my roommate, I was forced to wear a dress and stand at Jessie’s side while he schmoozed potential clients for the management company he’d begun to work for.
When I mentioned this to Grams, the only advice she gave me was, “What’s meant to be will be. No matter what path you choose, the second I met you, I knew in my heart you were meant to be a York.”
Now, all these years later, I can’t help but wonder if she saw something I refused to.
I peer into her kind eyes, searching for any sort of guidance, something I know she’ll tell me must come from within. “I’m just really confused.”
With a smile, she wraps her arms around me, kissing my cheek. “Giving a piece of your heart to two men is never easy. Trust me. I know.”
“You do?” My voice rises in pitch as I pull back.
“Same thing happened to me. A few months ago, actually.”
I blink repeatedly. “A few months ago?”
“What?” She gives me a playful look. “Just because I’ve spent nine decades on this planet you don’t think I can date?”
“I didn’t say that,” I flounder. “I just—”
“Trust me, dear.” She leans in. “You’re never too old for love.”
I stare at her for several protracted moments, trying to wrap my head around the idea of her dating. Then again, she was never one to adhere to society’s expectations. Just because our culture says someone her age should take it easy and spend the last few years of her life relaxing, maybe knitting from a comfortable rocking chair, that’s never been Grams. She’s always lived life, would never want to leave this world in a nursing home. She’ll go out doing something she loves.
“So how did you choose?”
“You’re assuming I have.” She winks.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re still seeing both men?”
She shrugs, looping her arm through mine and leading me out of the bedroom and down the hall. “My darling, when you’re my age, some things no longer matter. And you want to have as many orgasms as you can since you don’t know when your last will be.”
