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That’s because when we’re together, we spend most of the time in bed, and by the time we’re done, we’re too tired to talk about anything.
“I bet Claire wants a hundred different things,” Joel says. “Remember her seventh birthday?”
I grin because I do.
“She had a unicorn, a magnifying glass, a fairy and a butterfly on her cake,” I recall out loud. “And she was dressed like a… princess detective? Or was it a witch?”
Joel laughs. “Promise me she’s not going to have clowns in cowboy outfits for our wedding shower.”
“Nah. I think she’s outgrown those.”
“I hope so.”
I touch my chin. “I can’t promise she won’t show your baby pictures, though.”
Joel’s eyes grow wide in horror. “No way.”
I say nothing as I drink some beer.
“She can’t do that.”
I shrug. “I think she has the pictures already.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You have to get those pictures away from her.”
“I can’t,” I tell him. “If I do, she’ll kill me.”
“So you’d rather I die of embarrassment?” Joel asks. “Since when have you been on her side and not mine?”
“I’m not,” I say defensively. “I…”
I pause to gather my thoughts. Joel taps his fingers on the table.
“I think it’s only fair that everyone gets to see your baby pictures. After all, Natalie is showing hers.”
“She is?”
I nod even though I don’t know the answer. It’s the only way I know of to subdue his temper.
And it works. Joel’s forehead doesn’t look all wrinkled anymore. He lets out a breath as he takes a gulp of beer.
“You know, Claire wants your wedding to be a success as much as you do,” I tell him. “Even your wedding shower.”
“I know,” Joel says as he sets his bottle down. “She’s grown into a fine woman.”
“That she has,” I say without thinking.
As soon as I finish speaking, I realize the mistake I’ve made. I hold my breath as I wait for Joel to notice it, too, to ask me the question I’ve been dreading to hear from him. But he just moves on to a different subject as he keeps eating, which just makes me feel worse.
Joel has no clue I’m having sex with his sister.
And I don’t have the heart to tell him.
~
“You should tell him,” Ethan tells me when we go drinking two nights later. “You’re feeling guilty not because you’re going out with Claire, because nothing’s wrong with that. You’re feeling guilty because you’re keeping something from Joel that you feel he has a right to know. Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. But that’s how you feel, and knowing you, that feeling is not going to change. So just tell him.”
I turn my head the other way to look at Asher. He puts down his martini and shrugs.
“What Ethan said. You’re feeling guilty. That’s between you and your conscience. The only way to make the guilt go away? Clear your conscience. So yeah, tell him.”
Wow. I never thought the day would come when Asher would talk to me about conscience. Now, I feel even worse.
I almost wish I didn’t tell my brothers about me and Claire, but at the same time, I’m glad I did. I’m already keeping it a secret from my best friend. I don’t want to keep it from my brothers too. At least, now, I don’t feel so alone. I’m still the man who’s sleeping with his best friend’s sister, but I’m also the man with two brothers telling him the right thing to do. And they’re both right. I should tell Joel, not just out of respect for him and our friendship but also for my own peace of mind.
“I want to,” I say to them as I wrap my fingers around my gin tonic. “I do. I just…”
“Don’t want to get beaten to a pulp?” Asher finishes the sentence for me. He pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. If you want, I’ll go with you when you tell him. That way, he won’t punch you.”
I shake my head. “He’ll still punch me. Plus he’ll think I’m a coward for bringing you along.”
“He’ll think of you as a coward anyway when he hears what you’ve been keeping from him,” Asher says.
“Asher,” Ethan warns him.
As usual, he doesn’t shut up.
“Or I could just wait in the car and bring you to the hospital when he’s done with you,” he offers.
I have to say that’s not a bad offer. I might need someone to bring me to the hospital when Joel is done with me. But the beating isn’t what I’m worried about the most.
“I just don’t want to lose my best friend,” I confess.
Asher says nothing. For the first time tonight, he seems speechless.
Ethan takes a sip from his glass of scotch. “Hopefully, you won’t,” he says. “Hopefully, after he’s done punching you and maybe after a few drinks, he remembers all the good times you shared and all the bad times you’ve been through together and he realizes that he can’t ask for a better man for his sister or a better woman for his best friend. And he’ll be happy for you just as you’re happy about him settling down.”
