Baby for Brother’s Best Friend: Brother’s Best Friend Book 1

by Summers, Sofia T

  “Hey,” Steven said. “You remember Beth?”

  I shook my head.

  The girl, who was blonde and conventionally attractive in the same way as Meredith, blushed and looked away. She was wearing a short skirt with an oversized sweater and heels, with her knees together and her legs folded gracefully.

  “We went to high school together,” she said, still blushing. “I mean, we were in different years – but I think we had Spanish together once.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Was this what Steven had meant by his mother wanting to take on a project?

  The results couldn’t have been more disappointing than Beth, cute though she was.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said politely. “Again.”

  From behind Beth’s back, Steven grinned at me and my heart sank. He must have been in on this, too. It was a dismaying thought: if my best buddy and his mother were both trying to set me up with this chick, how angry would they be when they realized that I’d always had my sights set on Lyssa?

  Beth gave me a shy smile as Steven’s mother led us into the dining room. She put Beth in Lyssa’s usual seat and then, predictably, had me sit next to her.

  “So,” Beth said before Joanna had even begun to serve the food. “You’re a doctor now, right? Steven told me all about it. That’s amazing,” she continued, her eyes growing wide.

  “I’m a fertility specialist,” I said.

  “So, you help women and couples have babies?” Beth asked. “That’s so sweet,” she continued to gush. “I can’t imagine anything more rewarding than that.”

  “It is.”

  “I work with children, too,” Beth said.

  “Beth is an elementary school teacher,” Joanna cut in, beaming with pride as if Beth were her own daughter. “Her school recently won an award for, what was it now?” She paused, her face puzzled as she tried to remember. “Some kind of ribbon?”

  Beth’s face turned crimson. “It’s a thing that the Department of Education does to rate public schools,” she said. “They’re um, called Blue Ribbon schools.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful, Danny?” Joanna asked pointedly.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with me in particular,” Beth said quickly. She shifted on her chair, practically radiating waves of embarrassment.

  “But if you weren’t a teacher there, who knows, your replacement might not be as good,” Steven teased.

  Beth nodded briefly. “Um, maybe,” she said. She turned to me and peered into my eyes.

  I didn’t think I’d ever been so uncomfortable in my life. Steven, Joanna, and Beth were all looking at me expectantly – the only member of the table who wasn’t scrutinizing my every move was Ellis, Steven’s father.

  I’d never been comfortable in the spotlight ... especially not with such an obvious set-up. What on earth had prompted Steven and his mother to take something like this on?

  And why now, of all times?

  “So, um, you live in New York?” Beth asked. “I love New York – I wish I could live there, but the city is so loud. I need green stuff around me or I go kind of crazy.” She offered up the last sentence as if it were some kind of an apology for not being perfect, and I groaned inwardly.

  “I love the city,” I said. “I don’t think I could live anywhere else.”

  A heavy, awkward silence fell over the table before Joanna began offering up the main course – lamb chops served in some kind of gravy with pearl onions. I took a piece of meat and began to chew quickly, hoping that the sooner I finished, the sooner I could invent some kind of emergency back at home and leave.

  The only way that dinner could have been more uncomfortable is if Lyssa had been there. I’d been so disappointed to arrive and find her missing, but now I was glad. Glad that she didn’t have to witness this spectacle of me being cold to someone who by all accounts was perfectly lovely. Beth would have made a lot of guys happy – hell, I even wished that Steven would ditch Meredith and take up with her – but not me.

  My heart had always belonged to Lyssa Holm, and I knew it always would.

  When we were finished eating, I made an excuse about having to leave and walked to the door. Beth looked crestfallen – I almost wanted to take her by the shoulders and explain that there was nothing wrong with her, that it was just she wasn’t the right person for me. But Joanna and Steven were both watching me like hawks, so instead I said a brief goodbye and headed outside.

  “Hey,” Steven called. When I turned, he was jogging after me. When he reached my car, he frowned.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What the hell was that,” Steven demanded. “She’s gorgeous and she’s so into you, dude. What’s your problem?”

  I sighed. There was no way that this was the time to confess my true feelings, especially when I hadn’t even done so to Lyssa herself.

  “I’m just not feeling a connection with her,” I said finally.

  It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “That kind of stuff doesn’t always happen right away,” Steven said. He sounded exasperated. “I mean, sometimes you have to really work at it.”

  “Like you did with Meredith?” I asked.

  Steven’s face colored slightly and he looked away. “I don’t mean to be pissed,” he said. “It’s just, I thought you’d be happy. I always thought you were lonely. And Beth is like, super fucking hot. And she’s smart, and sweet. She’s a good catch.”

  That’s when it hit me. I was sure that Steven was right about everything he’d said, but Beth had also seemed so sweet and naïve that it had been a turn-off. She wasn’t Lyssa, who had a backbone of steel even though she’d been through so much. Lyssa was tough. She was strong, and I admired that about her so much.

  She impressed me. Not because of how much she’d gone through exactly, but because she’d fought for herself and come out on top.

  “I’m sure she’ll make some dude very happy someday,” I said as I opened the driver’s side door and got into my car.

  “But not you?” Steven asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope,” I told him. “Not a chance.”

  21

  Lyssa – Sunday

  “Lyssa? Are you okay?” Anna pulled open the door and immediately pulled me into a hug. “You never come over before calling,” she added. “You’re lucky you caught me at home – I was just about to run for breakfast.”

  “I brought food,” I said, holding up a bag from the Jewish deli on Anna’s corner. “Bagels and schmear.”

  “Oh, boy,” Anna said in an exaggerated voice. “Trina’s going to love you for that.”

  “I’m going to love what!” Trina screamed from behind the door. Anna motioned for me to step inside and as soon as I did, Trina launched herself at me and clung to my legs. For once, the sight of her little chubby cheeks didn’t make me grin immediately.

  I was having a rough morning, and I needed some serious best friend time.

  Anna’s smile faded as she sensed my evident discomfort. “Trina, why don’t you go put away your toys and make your bed,” she said. “Then, we can all have a bagel together. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  Trina’s smile faded a little but she nodded and scooted down the hall.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna asked. “Did something happen?”

  I let out a shaky sigh. “I’m okay,” I told her, although I wasn’t sure if I was being truthful or not. “I just had that dream again.”

  Anna’s eyebrow went up. “Oh?”

  I nodded miserably. She led me into the kitchen and made two mimosas, passing one over to me.

  “Hey, it’s Sunday, right?” Anna said as she clinked her glass with mine. “If we were any other two New Yorkers, we’d be at some fancy brunch right now.”

  I appreciated that she was trying to help, but the memory of my nightmare from the wee hours of the morning was too strong.

  It was the dream I’d been having ever since I left Curt, and had twice since I’d seen him in the lobby of my building
. In the dream, he came back and grabbed my hand, forcing my wedding band painfully hard onto my finger and yanking me close. I kept trying to fight, kept trying to beat my fists against his chest and push him away, but he was too strong. In my dream, Curt alternated between laughing and sneering in my face as he tightened his grip on me, hurting me, hurting me, hurting me and refusing to stop.

  The worst part was, the setting kept changing. Sometimes, it was at my parents’ home in Connecticut – where my mother and father would tell me that I was being unreasonable, that I needed to forgive Curt for whatever he’d done and go with him. That would just make him laugh all the harder.

  Sometimes, it would take place at work where I’d scream and beg for help as Curt was dragging me out of the building.

  The dream never failed to make me wake up drenched in a cold sweat, alone and shivering. Back when I’d lived with roommates, those nights had actually made me appreciate their presence. I’d often gone out and sat on the couch by myself, listening to them in their rooms and taking comfort in the fact that no one could hurt me, no one would come back and take me by force.

  Now, the dream was easily the worst part about living alone. I’d waited until a socially acceptable hour, then left my apartment and walked brisk circles in Central Park for hours, hoping to excise the dream like a surgeon cutting out a tumor.

  It hadn’t worked, of course. Nothing would. The memory of Curt’s rough hands on my body, of him screaming in my face and slamming me into walls and tearing my clothes off were too strong.

  I hated having that dream. It made me feel weak again, like I hadn’t managed to accomplish anything at all in the years since I’d left him. Worst of all, it frightened me because there was still the possibility he’d try it in real life.

  He’d come to my office, after all.

  “Lyssa?” Anna reached out and touched my arm. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No,” I said slowly. I sipped my mimosa and shook my head.

  “That’s okay. We can just sit here for a while,” Anna said. My heart swelled with affection for my best friend – even if everything else in my life was total chaos, at least I had her.

  “I appreciate that,” I told her. “Really, I do.”

  Anna made a face. “You know I’d do anything to help you relax,” she said. “Although I can’t promise Trina won’t come out and make a fuss when she’s done. She’s really getting to that age, you know?”

  I nodded, although privately I thought that even if Trina were a brat all the time, I’d still want her and love her and cherish her.

  “She told me the other day that if this one kid at her daycare doesn’t stop going, she never wants to go back,” Anna said quietly, then rolled her eyes playfully. “I didn’t want to tell her the truth – that she’s going to have to deal with assholes for the rest of her life.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I said. “I remember the part about school that I always hated – group projects. I thought I’d be so happy to get to college and not have to do them anymore, but that wasn’t the case. And of course, I still had to do them in real life. Like, even more than in school. And I can’t get away with doing all the work so I still get a good grade.”

  Anna nodded. Thoughts of Curt began swimming in my head again, and I felt myself frown as I finished my mimosa. Anna got up to refill our glasses, splashing a generous amount of sparkling wine into mine, and then sat back down.

  “That really got you, huh,” she said quietly. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you so upset.”

  “When I have that dream,” I replied slowly. “It’s like, I’ve lost control over my body and I have no idea what to do. He’s grabbing me and taking me, and everyone just stands there and laughs! Like they have no idea what kind of a monster he is!”

  Anna reached out and patted my shoulder.

  “And I feel like I’ve lost all of the progress that I’ve made and that he’s come to ruin me again and destroy my heart and my body and make me hate myself.”

  Anna nodded slowly.

  “I can only imagine how frightening that would be,” she said. “I’m really sorry, Lyss.”

  I took a deep breath. “I am, too,” I confessed. “Because it always takes me so long to shake that stuff off. It’s like I’m ruined.”

  Anna sighed. “Lyssa, you’re not ruined,” she said. “This isn’t like, the eighteenth century. You made some mistakes – who cares? Everyone does that.”

  I stared at her. “Not everyone fucks up like I did,” I said.

  Anna put her hand on my shoulder. “I think ...” She trailed off and flushed.

  “You think what?” I asked warily. “That you made the mistake of being friends with a mess?”

  Anna shook her head fiercely. “No,” she said. “But I think ...” She bit her lip. “Sorry,” she said. “This is just kind of awkward to say. But what if you, I don’t know, reclaimed yourself, somehow? You’re so afraid of your ex coming back and ruining everything – but you know that sex doesn’t have to be painful and scary now.”

  “I don’t get it,” I mumbled. “What are you talking about? Having sex with Dan?”

  Anna shook her head. “No,” she said, still blushing furiously. “Like ... having sex with yourself. Taking yourself on a nice date. Running a bubble bath with rose petals and doing everything that you’d want the perfect partner to do.”

  I stared at her.

  “What?” Anna asked defensively. “I read about it in Cosmo,” she continued. “It’s supposed to make you feel really good about yourself.”

  I swallowed. Thinking about sex with another man – even Dan – after one of my Curt dreams wasn’t ever something I wanted to do.

  But the idea of going home and pleasing myself? Just because I could?

  It seemed kind of taboo and self-indulgent at the same time.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly.

  “Just try it,” Anna pleaded. “For me, okay?” When I didn’t answer, she smiled at me. “And hey, if it works, let me know. I could use a date every now and then without having to worry about getting a sitter for Trina.”

  On the way back to my apartment, I stopped at a grocery store and picked out a bottle of wine, then impulsively put it back and grabbed one that was three times as expensive. It was silly – I’d never spent forty dollars on a bottle of vino before, but I reminded myself that this night was all about being good to myself.

  Making myself feel loved and needed.

  The idea, which had seemed insanely ludicrous when Anna first suggested it, became slightly more palatable as I shopped for myself. I treated myself to a sampling of everything that looked delicious from the overpriced hot bar at Whole Foods, telling myself that since it was a date, I didn’t want to do dishes. I also got a bouquet of roses and a bottle of red wine, plus a hefty-sized slice of chocolate cake for an indulgent dessert. After all, I thought as I stood in the checkout line. I’m splitting it. Just ... with myself.

  By the time I got back to my apartment, I was almost excited. There were butterflies in my stomach, like I was going on a real date, and my palms were sweating like crazy.

  One thing was certain: the suggestion of treating myself to a night in had made all memories of the dream before vanish from my mind.

  I locked myself in my apartment and dimmed the lights, then put on my favorite Pandora station and poured myself a glass of wine. The urge to drink the whole thing in one gulp was strong – if for no other reason to quash the lingering squeamishness that I felt about being that person who took herself on a date – but I forced myself to sip and savor, enjoy every drop of that forty-dollar bottle.

  After two glasses, I went into my bathroom and ran the faucet until it got hot enough to start filling the tub. My bathroom, like most in Brooklyn, wasn’t anything special. In fact, it was actually kind of dismal. But I grabbed a few of the tea lights that I’d bought for emergency blackouts and lit them, then turned off the lights. Suddenly, it was like my b
athroom had transformed into something straight from a rich girl’s Instagram story about being pampered by her boyfriend.

  I felt silly scattering rose petals over the hot water but as soon as I slipped my clothes off and eased into the bath, the perfumed scent of the flowers was enough to relax me. I used some of my favorite lavender bath salts and closed my eyes, relaxing and listening to the plink, plink, plink sound of the water slowly dripping from the faucet.

  Lying there, warm and soaking, it was almost easy to relax. I sat up and folded a towel, then placed it under my neck and slipped under the water until it was up to my chin. A rose petal floated by, tickling my face, and I giggled.

  The sound echoed on the bathroom walls and I held my breath, then exhaled.

  I knew what I was supposed to do next.

  But how I could even begin? I’d hardly ever touched myself before. Even in the shower, I washed between my legs with apathetic precision, just letting my hands linger long enough to let me get clean. In college, my friends had always laughed about going home for the weekends, because their bathrooms there had removable shower heads. But masturbation had always seemed wrong to me. When I was a little kid, I’d been in the car with my mother and I’d asked her how girls “did it” since we didn’t have the same “pieces” down there as boys.

  “They don’t,” she’d replied with a straight face. “So, don’t even think about it.”

  Now, obviously, I was old enough to realize that wasn’t true. They obviously did – and even wrote about it in Cosmo, like Anna had read. Sex toys were everywhere, even in CVS and Duane Reade, but I knew I could never bring myself to buy something.

  Well, at least not on a shelf.

  I let my fingers slide under the water and skid down my thighs. Trying to relax, I sloshed around in the tub and spread my legs. When my fingers grazed my wet tuft of pubic hair, I froze.

  This felt so wrong and so weird! I felt like I was in the middle of giving myself an exam, not letting myself have fun. And under the water, it almost felt like a detached hand was touching me inside of my own.