Page 29 of Double Play

I glance up at my brother who appears oblivious to Declan’s closeness or his hand movements.

Once the waitress walks away, I glare at Isaiah, reminding myself I’m here for him, not clocking Declan’s motions, and I will my brother to speak.

Isaiah lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think Penn loves me anymore.”

“What?” Declan stiffens beside me. For some reason I lilt to the side, as if needing Declan for strength as I’m shocked myself by Isaiah’s declaration,

“Why?” I whisper. I don’t believe that for one second. My brother and his wife are couple goals.

Isaiah shrugs and glances away from the table. “Life is just a lot, right? I’m busy. She’s busy. The kids are busy.”

Penn went back to work once the kids were in school. She’s a nurse and hospitals are notoriously understaffed, so she works a lot. Drake is about to enter his sophomore year of high school. He loves baseball almost as much as his dad. Jocelyn just finished eighth grade and plans to play lacrosse. My nephew and niece are growing up so fast.

“But what makes you think Penn doesn’t love you?” Declan asks before sparing me a brief glance. Concern etched in his forehead matches the worry in the pit of my belly. As if needing comfort from me, as I’ve restored the inch of space between us, Declan lets his hand fall beneath the table and clutches at a loose layer of my dress, as if willing me to remain near him.

If anyone was watching us, our close proximity might suggest we are a couple, but I’m more focused on the couple issues my brother thinks he has.

Our waitress picks this moment to return to our table, setting our drinks down quickly before rushing off again. Isaiah lifts his glass, and the three of us clink ours together. Declan has his almost to his mouth while I’m lowering my wineglass, still waiting on my brother’s explanation, when Isaiah murmurs, “We never have sex.”

The cut-crystal glass was almost to his mouth before he spoke, and he closes the distance to take a drink. However, Declan sputters on the swallow of bourbon he’d just taken.

I narrow my eyes, remembering the same complaint from Malakai. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex. At times, I was simply tired. But more times than not, the bickering between us led to my exhaustion. The constant comments about my job. The tension of having a career. I’d wanted compassion from my husband, not complaints.

“Sex isn’t everything,” I state, side-eyeing Declan for some reason. I like sex but there is also something to be said about intimacy, and the way Declan is still clutching my skirt beneath this table is next-level intimate for me. His hand is practically on my thigh although we are standing. His fingers close to the promise land that’s been vacant as a deserted desert. I’m hyperaware of his fist keeping me near him like we are a united front, a couple who can help Isaiah solve his couple concerns

“No, it’s not.” Isaiah blows out a breath. “But it’s at least something. We’ve lost that . . . spark. That crackle.” He points between Declan and me while holding his glass in hand. “That I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off-right-now feeling.”

“Isaiah,” I warn, avoiding a glance at Declan who suddenly loosens his hold on my dress and removes his hand like my brother happened to notice Declan was holding onto me. Maybe it was by the threat of my outfit, but he still pinned me close to him.

“Do you need to rip her clothes off?” Declan inquires, his voice unsteady. “What about romance?”

I snort, whipping my head in Declan’s direction.

“What?” Declan twists his body toward me. His eyes sparkle in the dim light of the bar. One corner of his mouth ticks higher than the other. “You don’t believe in romance?”

It isn’t that I don’t believe in it, I’m just unfamiliar with it. While I thought Malakai was romantic when we first started dating and in the early years of our marriage, in hindsight, I see the little ways he manipulated me. The elaborate dinners as an apology for time apart. The expensive jewelry as gifts after an argument. The timely trips in which he’d disappear for hours, flipping his absence on me. I was the one who needed to work in the offseason.

Still, I go on the defensive. “Don’t toss the romance card at me.” Like it’s an automatic input into my system as a female.

“I’m not tossing anything at you. I’m just suggesting that intimacy might overrule lust.” While his body faces mine, he shifts his head to glance back at Isaiah. In this turned position, elbow on the high top table, Declan suddenly feels even closer to me. His abs brush my arm. His belt buckle is near my elbow.

Intimacy and lust suddenly feel like the same thing to me. I’m turned on by his belt buckle touching me!

“Since when did you become so romantic?” I ask, and Declan swings his head back in my direction.

Isaiah chuckles, shaking his head while lifting his drink toward his lips again. He smiles like the Cheshire Cat. Like he knows something I don’t about his friend. After he takes another sip of his bourbon, he lowers the glass, and he focuses on my wrist.

The one wearing the charm bracelet with almost too many charms. The one I rarely wear because of the weight, but also because of the sentimental value.

Declan sent me the gift when I graduated from college. A silver bangle with a rose-gold disc, like a coin, was attached and engraved with a graduation cap. Then a disc with a Seattle needle arrived when I moved for my first job. A microphone-stamped coin came after my first official report on the small-town college’s softball game. Another charm arrived after I’d won an award for rookie reporting. A single gold coin appeared when I moved to Vegas.

The charms represent my journey. For a long time, I assumed Declan sent the token discs because I was Isaiah’s little sister, and by default, I was important to Declan. Sort of siblings by association. But as the years passed, and the charms became more intimate, more meaningful, my opinion changed, especially when he sent me a disc with a crown after my first field report in Vegas. And the final coin held an engraved heart.

Do you love him?

He had no right to ask. And I’d never answered.

The gift arrived on my wedding day instead of Declan, despite his RSVP that he’d attend. A week later, a check came in the mail for the skipped dinner plate. I was enraged. Not about the one-hundred-dollar plate fee. Or even his absence. I wanted to know what that heart represented.