by Amy Brent
Heather stood there, one hand still on the door handle, her eyes fixed on me and her mouth screwed up in a tight line I had only seen once before when I’d broken the heads off all her Barbies when she was nine.
I pushed my chair back and made to stand.
“Ethan,” Heather said, her voice shriller than I had ever heard it, “can I borrow you for a moment?”
It was clear she was doing her best to keep her composure. The four men in the room all looked at me, their wide eyes expressing their rather appropriate concern for my safety. This probably looked a lot worse than what it was. They probably thought Heather was my girlfriend.
“Heather,” I said evenly, resting my knuckles flat on the table, “I’m in the middle of a meeting. Can you wait for me in my office? We’ll be done here in fifteen minutes.”
“No, I can’t. I only need five minutes. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going to walk out of a business meeting so you can lecture me like a toddler, Heather. Go wait in my—”
“Ethan,” Heather growled, “now.”
I straightened and fixed my jacket. I gave the men in the room an apologetic nod. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, it would seem I need to speak with my sister.” I was sure to point out Heather was not, in fact, my girlfriend.
All men nodded, and I could feel their eyes on my back as I left the room and brought Heather to my office. As soon as the door was closed behind me, she spun around, jabbed a finger into my chest, and then pointed it at my face.
“How could you be such an asshole?” she hissed, stepping in even closer to me. I fell back a step. “You are a total pig. I thought you had changed. I thought your constant need to bring every woman you met home was over. I thought you had changed. So did Devon. You don’t deserve her. You never did.”
A little voice in my head told me she was right. It was a voice that had whispering that truth to me since I left my penthouse the night before.
But that didn’t matter.
“I understand you’re her best friend,” I started, “but coming in here while I’m in the middle of an important meeting is not appropriate. This isn’t going to happen again.”
“Oh, fuck off Ethan,” Heather said. “I wouldn’t have done this if you hadn’t hurt her. How could you do this to her?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, my own anger flaring up now, “and I can’t help it that she’s more in love with me than I am with her. I’m not going to string her along.”
“That’s a pathetic excuse, and you know it.”
“You can think what you want to think, Heather. It won’t change how I feel. This isn’t my fault,” I said, hoping that saying those last words out loud would somehow make them true.
Heather rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “You are impossible. I can’t believe you’re going to ruin the best thing that has ever happened to you and to Devon. You’re taking something away from her that she should have. And you’re selling yourself short. The two of you …” She paused and looked away from me. “You’re a fool, Ethan.”
“You’re entitled to an opinion,” I said coldly.
“What are you? A politician?” Heather demanded. “Too afraid to commit to the real words you should be saying? How about you’re sorry? You owe Devon at least that much. You don’t get to pack up and leave her alone at your place. She has no other home, Ethan, thanks to you. Not to mention, she’s pregnant. You broke her heart walking out on her like that.”
I swallowed and looked at my feet. “I know I did.”
“But you did it anyway?” Heather asked. All the anger was gone from her voice. Now she just sounded sad, disappointed, deflated.
I nodded. “I had to.”
“No, you didn’t. You just think you did. You can tell yourself whatever you want, but I know the truth. You love her. She loves you. The two of you make each other whole somehow. You’re scared,” she said, shaking her head as she stepped around me and made for the door. “You’re scared of what will happen if you let yourself care. That’s really sad, Ethan. Really sad. And Dev shouldn’t have to be the one to pay the price for your cold feet. Such a joke,” she added under her breath before wrenching the door open and leaving me reeling in the aftermath of her words.
I knew she was right, and the truth of it all only made everything more confusing.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Devon
I had been crying on and off for two full days. My chest was sore, my throat was swollen, my eyes were puffy, and just trying to eat food without being instantly sick was a brutal task. I knew I had to eat and keep the food down for the baby, but the heartbreak was literally making me physically ill.
I had tried everything I could think of to distract myself. I started with reading books, but after reading the same line eleven times over without realizing it, I concluded that wasn’t a very good solution. So, I moved on to movies. It was nearly impossible to find a decent movie that didn’t remind me of Ethan in some way. I would see him in any man with brown eyes or a guy who rocked a suit. It was paralyzing.
I tried cooking, but my feet were sore, and I didn’t have enough energy to make anything more intricate than a Kraft dinner.
I sat in my room and tried organizing my makeup. That didn’t work either. Every lipstick I picked up reminded me of a night I’d worn it with Ethan.
So now I was lying on my back on my bed, staring at the sheer white curtains draped over the pillars at each corner of the bed, wishing I wasn’t alone. I would have given anything to have Ethan’s company. I wished everything could go back to how it was. I wished he would come home from work, greet me with that devilishly handsome smile of his, and then put his hand on my belly to talk to the baby. Then, just maybe, he would plant a kiss on my lips, which would lead to more exciting adventures in his bedroom.
The mere thought of it made my panties wet. I groaned and rolled over.
I couldn’t believe how horny this pregnancy had made me. With Ethan around, I had always been able to satisfy my craving for sex. But now, there was no sex to be had. I was crippled by my need for it, so I opted for the next best thing. I could take care of myself. I used to do it all the time before I moved into Ethan’s home.
I found my vibrator at the back of the drawer in my nightstand. I was relieved to find that it was still charged. I rolled back onto my back and shimmied my pants down. It was a struggle with my belly so round and full now, but after some wiggling, I managed to be free of them. I pushed my panties to the side and powered on the vibrator. Its familiar hum filled the air, and I held it just above my clit.
When I touched it to myself, I was incredibly sensitive. I let out a startled little whimper before rolling the tip of the vibrator around the clit. I would have to ease my way into this one.
As I teased myself, I let my mind wander to thoughts of Ethan. Even though I knew he was done with me, I couldn’t help but yearn for his touch.
I imagined that he was there with me, and he was settled between my legs. If I looked down, I wouldn’t be able to see him past my belly, but he would be there, tongue darting between his lips to taste me as his fingers slipped inside me, curling and uncurling with expert precision until I came in one great rolling wave of delight.
When I was done, he would flip me over, manhandling me like I weighed nothing. He would lift me up and position me on my hands and knees so that my spine was arched and my ass was up in the air for him. If I was lucky, he would indulge me in a little more foreplay before he fucked me.
I brought the vibrator to my clit, gently gliding it over the most sensitive spot. My breath caught in my throat, and then I let out a content little sigh. I needed this. Amongst all the chaos and grief, I needed a moment where I could feel good.
I focused my thoughts on what Ethan would do to me if I was on my hands and knees in front of him. He would probably lean over me, pull my hair to one shoulder to expose my neck, and nibble and kiss the soft skin the
re as his fingers played with my clit. When I was about to come, he would slip a finger inside me.
His lips would crush against mine, and we would be locked in a passionate, raw kiss as his fingers fucked me. When it all became too intense, I would cry out into his mouth, and he would keep going until I came.
My pussy would be soaking wet like it was now. I would be ready. Ethan would enter me, cock hard and aching.
I bit my bottom lip. I adjusted to the next setting on my vibrator, and it began a pulsating rhythm that promised a body-shaking orgasm. With my free hand, I reached down, slipped a finger between my swollen folds, and began fucking myself while pretending it was Ethan’s dick.
Behind my closed eyelids, I imagined him bucking against me. I could almost hear the slap of his balls against me. I could feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck.
I moaned softly as I approached my climax. I was so close. Everything felt extremely tight. My whole body was preparing to let go.
When it happened, I cried out, and the sound felt incredibly loud in the empty penthouse. I rolled my hips against the vibrator until I was done, and then I stayed where I was, basking in the very brief afterglow of my orgasm.
Then the doorbell rang.
I sat bolt upright, my pants still around my ankles, and sat there motionless as I waited for another ring like a well-trained bloodhound.
The doorbell rang again.
“Fuck,” I breathed, shimmying awkwardly to the edge of the bed and hanging my legs off the end to pull my pants back on. My panties became immediately soaked. I rushed out into the hall, and as I made my way to the front door, I wondered how bright my cheeks were. Was my hair a mess? Was it obvious what I had just been doing?
When I opened the front door, I was surprised and delighted to see Heather standing there. She had a gift bag in one hand that was vomiting out pink and purple tissue paper. In her other hand was a bottle of sparkling apple juice. She lifted it up and wiggled it.
“I know our usual broken-heart remedy is a bottle of champagne,” Heather said, “but you can’t have any, so I picked the next best thing. Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, stepping aside to let Heather in.
She slipped in behind me and hung up her coat. I waited as she added her scarf to the hook and then turned to face me. I hoped she couldn’t see through the facade I was putting up. Was it obvious that I had just been pleasing myself?
“How have you been doing?” Heather asked.
It was the question I hated more than any other question. This was the one that always brought all my emotions racing to the foreground.
My afterglow was gone. I was hollow again. I shook my head once before giving in to the tears that I was barely keeping at bay. “I’m not good,” I said honestly as I sniffled and wiped the corners of my eyes with the sleeves of my shirt.
Heather frowned and then nodded her head toward to the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s go in. I’ll pour us our drinks, and you can go through the goodies I grabbed for you, and we can talk. You need to talk.”
I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. She had me sit down, and she went about grabbing us glasses and filling them with the bubbly apple concoction. As she did that, I pulled the tissue out of the gift bag and went through what she had picked up for me.
The first thing I pulled out was a new romantic comedy flick. I knew I would be able to get through it with her company. We always liked to sit and make fun of these kinds of movies, and that sort of light-hearted silliness was exactly what I needed right now. Heather had also brought me a bag of my favorite chocolates, a pair of fuzzy pink socks with little rubber grips on the bottom, and a vanilla scented candle. I twisted the mason jar style lid off the candle and smelled it.
“My favorite,” I said.
“I know,” Heather said, rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers until she found a lighter. She lit the candle and brought it with her to the living room. Then she grabbed our drinks and brought those to the coffee table. I followed her over, and we both took up a seat at either end of the sofa.
“Thank you for the goodies,” I said. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“You’re welcome, and that’s not true. A best friend wouldn’t have checked out on you for months like I did.”
“This makes up for it,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’d do just fine, Dev. I know you would.” Heather put her hand on my knee. “I’m sorry about what Ethan did. I can’t quite figure out how to forgive him. I don’t know if I can.”
“He’s your brother Heather. You have to. Don’t let this ruin your relationship with him. You guys adore each other. It has nothing to do with me,” I said. It was hard to say the words, but they needed to be said. I believed them. I needed Heather to as well.
“Still,” Heather muttered as she picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “He’s being a jackass.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that.
“How have you been holding up?”
I shook my head. “Not good.” The tears were surfacing again. Anytime I had to confront how bad this whole mess was making me feel, I crumbled. “I’m so in love with him, Heather. I don’t know how it happened, but it just did. It was like one day we were friends, and the next, I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. And I was so stupid to think he felt the same way. My heart is broken.”
“I know,” Heather whispered. “I know.”
I wiped my tears from my cheeks. “I never should have let myself fall so hard.”
“You can’t control that,” Heather said.
“I should have at least tried.”
“No,” Heather said. “Your feelings are valid. Don’t convince yourself otherwise. And listen. You’re not alone. You still have me. I’ll help you raise the baby. We would make an awesome team.”
I laughed through my tears. “I know I’m not alone, and I know Ethan will still make a good father. It just sucks that after everything, he doesn’t want me back, you know?”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. This is how it’s going to be, I guess,” I said.
Heather stood up with a sigh. “Movie time? I think we need to do something that will get your mind off things. You need a break from all this,” she said, waving her hand in the air and gesturing at all of me.
“Oh,” I giggled. “how sweet of you. Am I a total mess?”
“Well,” Heather grinned. “I’ve seen you look worse, but that’s only when it’s three in the morning and you spent the entire night mixing all your hard liquor with your wine and your coolers and ended up over the toilet puking your guts out. So yes, you’re a bit of a mess, but that’s okay. We’re all a mess sometimes.”
Heather popped in the movie and brought me over my chocolates, which we shared, and I was thankful I was able to keep them down. Sometimes, the only cure for heartbreak was time with someone who loved you and who would never make you feel the way the one person you wanted more than anything else in the world did.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ethan
I had gone through all the miniature bottles of liquor in the bar fridge in my hotel by Sunday afternoon. Rain was pattering on the window as I stared at the television. I didn’t know what show was on despite having been watching it for the last forty minutes. My mind was elsewhere, and it had been all weekend.
My mind was on Devon.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since leaving the penthouse on Thursday evening. I also had not heard anything from Devon, not that I’d expected to. I was the one who had packed up and left, not her. If anyone was going to reach out first, I knew it had to be me.
I also knew there was a timeline involved. I was going to have to confront her at some point. She was going to have my son soon.
Our son.
I blew out a breath. Everything was so
much more complicated than it had been just days ago. I thought back to the Hamptons. Everything had felt so right. I was so at ease. Devon had been happier than I had ever seen her. Then, she and Heather had reconnected. All the pieces had fallen perfectly into place, and then I’d realized that I was in love, and that was something I wasn’t ready for.
Liam had helped me realize that.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My dad was calling.
“Hey, Dad,” I answered, holding the phone to my ear.
“Hi,” my dad said. “You busy today?”
My only plan for the day was to order room service and avoid having to talk to anyone. I tried to think of something I could tell my father I was doing, but no ideas came to mind. I came up empty. “No, not busy,” I said.
“Good, come on over this afternoon. I need some help moving some stuff around in the garage.”
“Right,” I said. “Moving stuff in the garage. Got it.”
We ended the phone call, and I continued to watch the stupid cop show on the TV until it was noon. Then I called Eddison, and he drove me to my parents’ place.
When I got out of the limo, my mother opened the front door of the house. She greeted me warmly, pulling me in for a hug. I could see what she was desperately trying to hide from me in her eyes. Disappointment. I knew she had wanted me and Devon to work out. I knew telling them of our break-up at this stage when the baby was just around the corner would devastate her.
But it was what was best.
Wasn’t it?
“It’s good to see you,” my mother said, patting my cheek maternally. “Your father is already in the garage. Hurry along and go give him a hand before he hurts himself, will you?”
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll come back in before I go.”
“Okay, sweetheart.”
I joined my father in the garage. He was pulling boxes down from the attic and piling them in the corner behind his toolbox. When I stepped under the raised garage door, I knocked lightly on his ladder, peering up into the open space in the ceiling.
