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“You should leave now.” My voice is dull, lifeless. I refuse to look at him. I’ve had enough. His resentment toward his own family is making me hate him, and I want to inflict some sort of bodily harm on him.
He hesitates for a moment and then just turns and leaves. His footsteps pound down the stairs, and the front door squeaks opens, then closes. His car door slams and then backs out of our driveway, the headlights flashing across the bedroom windows.
And he’s gone. Just like that.
I sit on the bed, staring at the wall in a daze, until the sun comes up, wondering what the heck just happened.
LUKAS
INSOMNIA IS A BULLY OF THE worst kind. Pushing me. Shoving me. Laughing in my face. Waiting ’til I feel safe and then kicking me in the skull. I fight back, but we all know how this story goes—the bully wins.
So I lay awake, staring at my cathedral ceiling and feeling uncomfortable in my own bed. Not just because I can’t sleep, but because there’s a chick next to me that I know I’m never going to sleep with again. I want to love her. I should love her. She’s cute and tiny with a banging body and long silky black hair with blue highlights. Her eyes are like fucking sapphires, and she has a giggle that sounds like a demented elf. She’s a musician, like me, so she gets me. She knows when to stay and when to go away, and she sucks me like I’m a cherry lollipop.
There’s just one thing that’s wrong.
Rolling over toward me, her lips press against my cheek. “You’re so much nicer in bed than Vandal ever was.” I feel her lips turn into a smile as she snuggles against my shoulder.
Yup. That’s the thing that’s wrong—she slept with my older brother a few times. Actually, I’m pretty sure sleeping wasn’t involved at all while he had her tied to his bed being vandalized, as he so nicely puts it. Even though I’ve tried, I just can’t get that out of my head. I don’t want to be second choice, or get my brother’s leftovers. Who would want to always be compared to his brother? I don’t want to be with a woman that Vandal has seen naked and violated. I want someone that’s just . . . mine.
I sit up, slowly untangling myself from her, and try to find my clothes in the dark room.
“Where you going?” Her hand lands on my back, her voice drowsy as she fights off sleep.
I turn toward her, dreading that I’m going to upset her, but I feel like the band-aid ripping approach is probably best.
“Rio, I can’t do this anymore,” I say softly.
“Do what?”
“This. Us.”
Bolting up, she holds the sheet against her naked chest. “Why?” Her bright blue eyes darken.
“I really like you. You’re one of my best friends . . . it’s just not going past that for me. I wish it was.”
Her usually pretty face falls into a sad frown. “Lukas . . . I love being with you. Maybe we just need some more time. Don’t think about it going any further, just let it happen.”
I slowly shake my head. “I won’t do that to you.” Standing, I pull on my jeans. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“That’s what I love most about you,” she says wistfully. “You’re the only one that actually cares and doesn’t treat me like a toy.”
I hate my brother for boning every chick within a hundred mile radius, and I hate myself even more for not being able to move past it.
She crawls across the bed toward me, her long dark hair forming a silk curtain over her tits. “Lukas, it’s all right if you don’t love me. I can deal with that. Really.” Hope and desperation taint her voice, and it upsets me to hear that in her. She’s so much better than that; she just doesn’t know it yet.
Picking her clothes up off my bedroom floor, I place them next to her so she can get dressed. “It’s not all right with me,” I tell her. “And you deserve more. Don’t settle, okay? You don’t have to. The right guy will come, trust me. And he’s going to be lucky as hell.”
“I doubt it,” she replies, slipping her shirt over her head.
“I’ll wait in the living room for you, and I’ll take you home.”
“Lukas?” Her soft voice stops me before I get to the bedroom door. “There might not be a right one for any of us. Maybe that’s just a myth, ya know?”
Maybe so, but I believe in the mythical and have faith in the legends of time. Fantasy drips through my veins. It’s what’s kept me alive.
IVY
IF SOMEONE HAD TOLD ME A few months ago that my husband was going to leave me for another woman, I would have laughed in their face. To say I was completely blindsided would be an understatement. While Paul got to move in to a nice new condo, buy new furniture, date a pretty young woman, and start a new exciting life of fun with the bubbly younger-me clone, my life turned into a mess of stress and confusion. It seems unfair to me, that he’s the one who did something wrong here, but I am the one suffering. Having to tell our seven year old son and seventeen year old daughter that their father moved out was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. How convenient that Paul didn’t have to see the shock and devastation on their faces or answer their endless questions.
Having Paul in the house again a few weeks after he officially moved out to pack his things was another slam to my heart. He left almost everything that I mistakenly thought held meaning to us, or might hold some kind of sentimental value to him—wedding pictures and vacation pictures of us with the kids, and souvenirs from trips we took. He left paintings and decor items that we picked out together, even silly things we had from our first dates when we were in high school. I can’t understand why he wouldn’t want anything from our life together, as if he intends to just forget we were ever a couple.
My best friend Lindsay has been coming over almost every day after work to check on me. I’ve never been depressed before, or had any reason to worry about my life and my future, but now, I’m consumed with it. Paul ripped everything away from me, and I’m feeling stuck in a sort of odd hazy limbo, unsure what I’m supposed to do next.
“Sam has this really good looking friend that just separated.” Lindsay gives me a sly grin while we sip coffee in my kitchen.
I roll my eyes at her. “Lindsay, please. I do not want to be set up on any dates, especially with someone who also just got separated, because he’s either been screwed over and is in a slump like me, or he’s the evil-doer. I don’t want any part of it.”
“Live a little. You can’t sit in this house forever. You’re just getting more depressed and gaining weight. Don’t let that asshole win.”
Her words hurt, even though I know she doesn’t mean them to be offensive. “Thanks, Lin. I gained ten pounds, not fifty. I’ll lose it.”
“I know you will, hon. I’m just worried about you. I want you to be happy. The best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else. You’re so pretty. Lots of men would love to hook up with you.”
“Mommy, what’s hook up?” I look down at Tommy, who has quietly materialized next to me.
I shoot daggers at Lindsay and stroke his head. “It means go to dinner, honey. Why don’t you go start your homework?”
He makes a face and trudges off to the living room. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn to Lindsay again. “Please watch what you say around him. He’s really confused about what’s going on. And I’m not getting on top of someone else!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even see him come in. Why can’t your kids be noisy like mine?”
“Trust me, they make noise. They’ve both been a little crazy since Paul moved out.”
“They’ll adjust. That’s what kids do.”
I rearrange the fruit in the bowl at the center of the table. “They want him to come back. They ask me all the time when he’s coming back home.”
“And you? Do you want him to come back too?”
I focus on an apple and shrug. “I don’t know . . . maybe. I miss him.”
