ONE YEAR LATER
SMUGGLING: [verb] To hide arousal, usually by
holding your board in front of you while walking.
There are ways you shouldn’t think about your future brother-in-law. Places that should be off-limits for your mind to wander. Like right now. I am watching him, his hand skimming down the open back of her dress, slipping inside and gripping her waist, his thumb rubbing a soft pattern on her skin. My eyes cannot pull from that spot, from the slow motion of his hand, the seductive pass over her skin. I know how that feels, know how frantic he gets when he f**ks, how he pushes deep with his cock, pins you to the mattress, or the desk, or the floor, his hands hard on your wrists, his face intense above you, heat and raw need in his eyes. I blink, turning away, stepping to the kitchen, and look for Dana. Her strength grounds me; her knowledge of everything we have been through reassures me.
She smiles at my entrance, waving me over with a flour-covered hand. “I need those fingers. Come knead this dough.”
I wash my hands in the small island sink and pat them dry on a hand towel, joining her at the counter, my hands diving into the sticky dough, grateful for the job.
“How’s it going?” she murmurs.
“Fine.” I say softly, though no one is close enough to hear. “I’ve only spoken to him once—when he introduced me to her.”
“And...” she reaches for flour, sprinkles a line of it on the counter. “What do you think of her?”
I think about the question, how to word my response. “I think...” I pause to scratch my hairline with my forearm. “That she is nice. Accommodating. Stewart says she’s a web designer?”
She snorts. “That’s putting it lightly. She created a music-sharing site that just signed a deal with Apple.”
So the bubbly blonde with the sparkling smile is successful. Intelligent. I wait for the flow of jealousy that should come, should poke its green head up, but instead, a smile forms. I’ve spent so much of the last year feeling guilty. My life with Paul has been wonderfully easy—perfect. But every bit of happiness felt slightly tainted by the fact that Stewart was alone, left out in the cold as Paul and I continued full-steam ahead in our happy relationship. And now, with our engagement, I’ve been terrified of how Stewart will react. How the brothers’ new, fragile relationship will weather the announcement. To see him happy, with a girl who surpasses me...it lifts that guilt, sends a spike of relief through me. He will be okay. We will be okay. I can continue with my new life—guilt-free.
That doesn’t stop the attraction. Our entire relationship was built on sex. Hot, f**k-my-panties-to-pieces, sex. It was how we connected, communicated. It will be strange to move into a cordial relationship. One where we chat about life and friendship, and if the Dodgers will beat the Giants.
I feel arms slip around me, gripping my waist and pulling me tightly against hard muscle, a soft kiss nuzzled into the crook of my neck, a giggle bursting from my throat as I hold up dough-covered hands. “Stop,” I gasp. “The bread!”
“The bread can wait,” he says softly, spinning me around, his mouth taking mine, a soft kiss that presses back my head and deepens into something more, his pelvis dipping into me, my belly curling at the contact. I moan against his mouth.
“Wow.” The wry voice is really, really close. So close that I open my eyes in surprise, Dana’s half-smile only steps away. “Point made. You guys can heat each other’s clothes off. I got two bedrooms upstairs should you feel the need for more.” She stares pointedly at Paul. “Now ‘git, loverboy. Go back and tend to the steaks and let me have some time with her.”
He grins at her, lifting me without warning, his hands strong on my waist, setting me on the edge of the counter and taking one last kiss. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, glancing around quickly before shooing him away. “Now go, before Stewart comes back.”
“He’s too gaga over Website Barbie to notice,” he says happily, his relief matching my own. “He already invited us to join them in San Francisco next weekend.”
I frown. “San Francisco?” Stewart, taking a weekend off? That doesn’t sound anything like the man I know—knew.
Dana barrels through, shoving Paul aside, his wink disappearing in a blur of brunette dominance. “That’s it. Outside. You get all damn night with her. Give me a measly fifteen minutes.” She points to the back door, her expression firm, and he backs up, hands up, sending me a playful smile before heading outside.
She shoots me an exasperated look. “Please tell me he’s not like that all the time.”
I bite back a smile. “Okay.”
She pulls out a pan and unwraps a stick of butter, spreading it around the base of the pan.
“So... you hiding that ring for a reason?”
I glance toward the living room, the muted voices telling me where Stewart is. “You know why. I’m going to tell him tonight, but I want to do it privately.”
She stares me down until I met her eyes. “You scared?”
“I’m...nervous. It’ll be our first real conversation—in person at least—since the accident. It helps that she’s here. That he’s happy. Paul wanted to tell him, but this is important to me. I think we need this conversation.”
She nodded. “I agree. It was one of the reasons I invited everyone over. That, and that I’ve been itching for a family Thanksgiving since I bought this house.” She grins. “No other point in having a twelve-person dining room set.”
I try to return the smile but my stomach is suddenly in knots, the reminder of my impending news sobering.
The Thanksgiving meal is a success, the table filled with turkey, ham, and enough side items to feed a family three times our size. We eat our fill, and then move, leaving the dishes, the boys sprawling out on leather sofas in the den, football suddenly on the television. I stand in the doorway and watch Stewart for a moment before entering. Football. I’ve never known Stewart to have time for sports, save reading scores and standings while hurrying through the news. His arm is around her, her blonde hair against his sweater, her feet tucked underneath a thick blanket of Dana’s. I tap his shoulder gently, the contact causing him to jump silently, and his head whips around to look up at me.
“Could I speak to you for a minute?” I smile awkwardly at Mia. “I won’t keep him long, I promise.”