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Blake turned to his brother. “I think . . . Maybe I need to take a break from Jen.”
“Whoa.” Grant’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see that coming, at least not yet. Do you really have feelings for her?”
Blake hesitated, then nodded. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t even known Mel for very long, yet he couldn’t deny there was something there.
Grant whistled. “Okay. But here’s the thing. If you break up with someone like Jen, it’s over. Done. There is no second chance. She’s just not that type. So you need to be sure. Just because you need some air and a window is cracked, doesn’t mean you jump out it.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “What does that even mean? That I’m leaping when I should walk?”
“Precisely. I mean, this lady had three kids, Blake. Three.” Grant held out three fingers as if Blake couldn’t count.
Blake smacked his hand away. “I happen to like her kids, remember? And big deal. So she has kids? I want a family, unlike you.”
“All I’m saying is that’s a lot of baggage.”
Blake set his beer down. “Put Mel aside, because I don’t even know how she feels about me. She could see me as her brother for all I know.” Although it certainly didn’t feel that way last night. “There’s something hugely wrong with the fact that I almost kissed another woman last night.”
“Who?”
Blake threw a pillow at him, but Grant dodged it with a forearm. “Mel, you idiot.”
“Oh,” Grant drawled.
“Yeah. I left my girlfriend to go to another woman’s house in the middle of a dinner party, and I almost kissed her. To make matters worse, I accidentally saw her naked a few days ago, and it’s as though my retinas have been burned by her image. And not in a bad way. In a way that won’t let me stop thinking about her, replaying it over and over in my head.”
Blake brought the heal of his palm to his temple as if he could erase the image. “A man who is committed to the woman he’s with should not be having these feelings.”
“Okay, I get it, even if I do think you’re being a little hard on yourself.” At Blake’s glare, he continued, “Those are valid reasons to question things, but give it a little time.”
Blake stared at Grant like he was an alien. “Give it time? I thought you hated Jen? You’ve been hounding me to move on since the day I met her.”
Grant exhaled. “I don’t hate Jen. I just,” he waved his beer around in the air in front of him, “don’t think she’s right for you. She never has been and never will be. But,” he said, drawing out the word. “You’ve been together a year. Just because you have a thing for the hot mom now doesn’t mean you should just throw a year’s investment out the window.”
Blake chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over what he said. The thought of ending things with Jen left a stabbing ache in his chest.
Maybe Grant’s right.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He’s was acting like a crazy person. Before he made any rash decisions, he needed to relax and take a step back—collect his thoughts. He needed to talk with Jen about the future and what kind of life they wanted for themselves.
“But what if you’re right?” Blake asked, picking at the label on his bottle.
“I always am. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“What if I’m with Jen for the wrong reasons?” Blake glanced up at him. He felt like a total tool for what he was about to say. He and Grant had an unspoken bro code to never speak about their feelings. And if they did, it was life or death. Though Blake’s life wasn’t exactly hanging in the balance, he hoped Grant would let it slide, when he asked, “What if I’d be unhappy with the kind of life I’d have with her? What if we want different things, and she really does want to change me?”
Grant stared at him a moment, then offered him a slap on the shoulder. “Well, bro, only you can figure that out for yourself. But if you do, and you don’t like what you see, then you end it. And I’ll be the first one cheering you on.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MEL
Mel entered the kitchen after Blake, noting the way his gaze flickered over everything in the small space except her. He pursed his lips as he tapped the side of the coffee pot. “Nice,” he said.
Mel smiled and reached past him, snatching the carafe up and filling her travel mug. The chrome gleamed under the light. Mel had been thrilled to use it after splurging on it yesterday afternoon. Sometimes, it was the little things that made life worthwhile.
Setting it back down, she tried not to notice how close they stood to each other. Or the way his black t-shirt cut off at the sleeves over the swell of his biceps. Or the rapid beat of her pulse as she caught a hint of his cologne.
Was it hot in here?
