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She opens the door while I’m staring at the pink hues of the sunset and says, “Stop gawking. You look like a tourist. It’s just a bridge.” I turn around, and she pulls me into a hug. “How was the shrink?”
I drop my purse and jacket on the table in the foyer and make my way to the living room. “I feel shrunk. Actually, I feel like my brain is on the spin cycle.”
I make myself comfortable on the sofa while Charlie goes to the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of water for me and a glass of wine for her. I adore her and Spencer’s house. It’s full of light, clean lines, and vibrant art. Charlie has impeccable taste.
“Did she make you lie down on a couch and talk about your childhood?” she asks.
“The couch was incredibly uncomfortable and red, which struck me as odd. I would have expected calming colors. Anyway, I laid down the law on that subject. My therapy will not be a fishing expedition about my childhood. She respected that. More or less.” I open my bottle and take a sip. “Henrik actually called her and told her how worried he is.”
She winks. “That’s Henrik, for you. He’s quite the catch, you know. Or so he tells me every time I see him.”
Charlie’s never loved Henrik. She likes him well enough, just not with me. I suspect she hopes Chase and I will get back together, but she’s never said that.
“So what’s gotcha all rattled?” she says. “Riky and I don’t often agree, but you’ve definitely not been you since you’ve come back.”
I take a deep breath and prepare myself. The words explode out of me in one long purge. “I’m still in love with Chase. I don’t want to love him. I hate him. I hate him more because I love him. I hate myself for how I feel, but I can’t help it. I love him.” I smother myself with a raw silk accent pillow. “I’m a damn U2 song!”
She fetches a coaster and puts her wine on the glass coffee table before scooting closer to me on the sofa. “You never talk about him or ask about him. I never asked because I figured that chapter of your life was closed. Have you two even been in the same room since my wedding?”
As comfortable as her sofa is, I still can’t seem to get comfortable. I shift around but cannot settle. Perhaps it’s the subject matter. I hold the pillow in my lap and trace the seam with my finger. “No. I’ve been conveniently unavailable for every holiday and birthday since then. I’ve kept him as far from my mind as possible and dodged any places that remind me of him.”
“Honey,” she says, “that’s not moving on. That’s avoiding.”
I let my head fall back against the suede sofa. “Call it what you will. It kept him from the forefront of my mind. But now that I’m home, I feel like he’s everywhere. We have too much history here. Every time I turn around, I’m hit with a memory. Gah! I wish I could just have him surgically removed from my mind!” I raise my index finger. “Maybe I should try hypnosis. I don’t really buy into that crap, but at this point, anything is better than living with him invading my brain.”
She picks up her glass of wine and swirls it. “Do you think you just miss the memory of him?”
“I wish I could say that I’m just being nostalgic, but it’s more than that. I miss him. Our connection, while dysfunctional at times, was powerful, and I’m not sure it ever could be replicated. With everything going on with Daddy, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wished I could pick up the phone and call Chase. Even if I did, the second I heard his voice, I know all that would come out would be the anger I’ve been holding on to.”
“So what are you going to do about Henrik?”
I shrug. “What can I do? While I may not be in love with Henrik, we have a lot of fun together. We’re compatible. I don’t get the urge to gouge his eyes out with a melon scooper, unlike your brother.”
She fans herself with the pillow from my lap. “Please stop! Your relationship is far too steamy for my delicate sensibilities. Compatible is the new erotic.” She drops the pillow, and her face turns deadpan. “Oh, wait. No, it’s not. Compatible is the new boring and destined for infidelity and divorce.”
“We don’t fight. Ever. Even when we disagree, we work it out calmly. That must count for something.”
She holds up two fingers. “One, you live on different continents. When you two were actually in the same hemisphere, you were bored senseless. It wasn’t as peachy as you’re making it sound. If you recall, you texted me constantly about how miserable you were. And two, you and Henrik have no passion. No chemistry. No heat. Take it from your married friend who has sex every night—you need heat!”
As I nod, I peel the label from my bottle of water.
“See,” she says, pointing at me. “That’s a sign you’re sexually frustrated.”
I put the bottle down. “You shouldn’t buy bottled water, anyway. It’s bad for the environment.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “Enough about my beverage selection. What are you going to do about your feelings for my brother?”
I wince. “That is a pointless conversation. I may still be in love with him, but we’re toxic for each other. I don’t think I can forgive him for all that he has done. We’d never get past all the damage. Plus there’s the little issue that is us both marrying other people. Getting back together isn’t even a possibility, so get it out of your head.”
She pats my back. “It’s not my head I’m worried about, my lovely.” She lets her comment sink in for a few moments. “I’ll say this. I won’t let you marry someone you don’t love just because you’re a good match on paper. I know you have your reasons for continuing this sham of a relationship, but if you think I’m going to let my best friend make the biggest mistake of her life just because it’s an appropriate next step, you’ve got another thing coming. I will take that wedding down in a heartbeat.” She points at me. “You know I will.”
I have no response, so I lay my head back and close my eyes, trying to block out the cyclone of thoughts running through my head.
“Besides,” she continues, “you can’t marry him. Two blond people should never end up together. It’s just too… too… much blond.” She drains her glass then stands. “Spence will be home soon, so I’d better start dinner.”
I look at her. “By start dinner, you mean reheat what your chef left you?”
She flips me off as she walks to the kitchen. “I can reheat like nobody’s business. You’re staying. Notice that was a statement, not a question.” She gives me the classic Brennan “don’t mess with me” look.
It was so much easier to ignore how much she reminds me of Chase when I was thousands of miles away. Now no matter how hard I fight it, I see a little bit of him every time I look at her, and I hate him for it. She has the same devastatingly beautiful chestnut hair and gray eyes that scream comfort. Wasn’t it enough that he took my heart? Fuck him for invading my relationship with my best friend as well.
About the Author
Kimberly is a stay-at-home mom of four beautiful crazy children. She lives in New Jersey with her husband of ten years and enjoys every minute of her never-dull life. She loves a good book that is impossible to put down, and you will most likely find her reading in her downtime, unless of course, there is a football game on.
Connect with Kimberly
Website: www.KimberlyBracco.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorkimberlybracco
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from Hate to Love You
About the Author