Page 6 of Trial and Error

It doesn’t take long to get to his place in North Briarwood, and every time I pull up in front of his house, I grumble under my breath at how lucky the son of a bitch is to be able afford a place like this. Mind you, he’s worked his ass off in order to afford this home. His drive and incredible work ethic have allowed him to be the great success he is. Starting his own tech company when he was eighteen put him miles ahead of everyone, and his company has only expanded over the years. Working long hours and having a lot of sleepless nights sure as hell have paid off in making sure his family is well looked after.

I’ve worked as my brother’s accountant since he started and now, as his CFO, I plan on being by his side for the foreseeable future. I work in his office in Downtown Vancouver three times a week and the other two at home.

Before I can stop in his driveway, the front door swings open to reveal a heavily pregnant Isobel, who looks tired as she bounces an excited Olivia on her hip. Oscar is out of the car and bounding up the stairs toward his girls before I can even put the car in park, and I watch as he wraps them both in his arms and hugs them close to his chest.

As I get out of the car, I hear Olivia’s giggles as her dad peppers sloppy kisses over her face. I remember the day he came home and told us Isobel was pregnant. Mom had been disappointed at first that her twenty-two-year-old was about to become a parent, but that disappointment soon turned into pride as she watched her son transform into an amazing father.

Isobel looks over her fiancé’s shoulder and waves. “Morning, Eli.” I take the steps two at a time and kiss her cheek before kissing the top of my niece’s forehead. “Thanks for bringing this one home.”

I reach forward and take Olivia from her arms as Oscar pulls Isobel into his arms and kisses her softly. “Hey, pretty lady,” I say to Olivia as she grips my T-shirt in her small, yet strong hands.

Olivia is my brother’s mini-me, with the same dark brown hair and hazel eyes, but she gets her cheeky grin and pale skin from Isobel.

“Care for a coffee?” Isobel asks as she steps into their house.

“You know me too well.”

bridget

Imani is with Adam this morning, which is why I’m currently sitting by myself in our favourite café in North Briarwood, eating a cinnamon roll. It’s our Sunday tradition that no matter how hungover or busy we are, we always make time for coffee and a cinnamon roll. I can’t be mad at her, though, not when I called her this morning to check in and she told me she forgot they had already made plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. She tried to tell me she would cancel their plans and meet me, but I didn’t want to ruin her day over a cup of coffee.

Thankfully, the bookworm in me never leaves the house without a book, so I’ll be fine. Occasionally, we are joined on our coffee dates by Asha and Malik, and today is one of those days. Because not long after Imani cancelled, Malik messaged and asked if we’re still going for coffee.

I said yes, even though I do treasure these little moments of peace when I’m alone. I like to try and take myself out for a self-care day at the spa or even go to the gym, but there’s nothing quite like opening the pages of your book and getting lost. That’s the great thing with fiction, you can live a thousand different lives that have a thousand different paths and outcomes. It’s calming, honestly.

Now, I don’t doubt Imani has plans with her boyfriend, but I’m sure she knew what she was doing, especially if it has anything to do with setting me up with her brother. Ever since we went out last weekend, she’s been asking if I’ve spoken with him or made plans to see him, and when I told her I hadn’t, she told me that maybe I needed a little push.

Asha’s curly brown hair is braided neatly to her scalp, her bronze skin shimmering in the early morning sunlight as she draws in the colouring book she brought.

Being with Malik and Asha is relaxing. The seven-year-old pushes her lips into a pout as she hums along to the Taylor Swift song playing in the background.

Malik looks incredibly handsome in his dark wash denim jacket, white T-shirt, and cargo pants. His locks are down and tucked behind his ears, but one strand falls into his face as he reaches over to tear off a bite of his muffin to give to Asha.

“So, Im didn’t tell you that it was going to be just the three of us?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet my own.

I shake my head as I take a sip of my coffee. “She thinks she’s so sneaky.”

That has Malik chuckling but he looks sad. “I think we both know you wouldn’t have agreed to come if you knew it would be the three of us.”

Reaching over, I place my hand over his and give it a squeeze. “You seem to be under the impression that I don’t like you,” I say, feeling his hand flex under my own as if he’s resisting the urge to lace our fingers together. “Which is not the case.”

“Isn’t it?” he retorts quietly, making sure this conversation doesn’t reach his daughter’s ears. “Because all I know, is that whenever I ask you out you find a reason to say no.”

“Malik…” I sigh. “It’s complicated, and you know it.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and takes a drink of his tea. “Actually, I don’t think it is. I’ve spent years asking you out and trying to be what you want, and all you do is come up with some lame-ass excuse as to why you can’t date me or how you’re too busy for me. You know how I feel about you, Bridget, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that you not taking me seriously makes me upset. Is it because I have a child? Does that put you off?”

He’s never been this open with me before, and it upsets me to think he thinks I don’t take him seriously—because I do.

“That’s not fair,” I mumble. “Things aren’t as simple as just going on a date and getting together. I have no issue with you being a dad, and as much as I adore Asha, she’s a factor in why we have to think this through. Because she’s going to be just as involved as we are, and if it ends, it’s not just our feelings on the line. It’s your sister’s and your daughter’s.”

He knows I’m right. I can see it in the defeated yet understanding look in his eyes.

“We’ve been friends for twelve years, Mal. You mean so much to me and it’s not that I don’t want to try, because I do. I just have to figure out if it’s worth losing you if it goes wrong.”

“It’s not going to ruin our friendship,” he tries to assure me, but the waver in his tone indicates he’s aware it might not end that way.

“You don’t know that.”