Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

WILL

T he sun is already starting to set by the time I make it to Rachel’s doorstep. It’s not the first time I’ve walked from my place to hers, but it has been quite a while, and it’s the first time I’ve done this when the weather is this chilly. By now, my legs are pretty much numb.

Halloween has come and gone, which means Rachel and her family have decked the front of the house with their favourite ghosty decorations and have yet to remove them. Almost every triplex on this street was previously covered by some sort of spooky decoration, but most have already taken them down. With the sidewalk littered in leaves and the trees becoming more and more bare, the neighbourhood is overcast with an air of decay.

I don’t even have to knock. Rachel is already at the door by the time I reach the top of the staircase. Her hair is piled in a messy bun atop her head, and her apron is speckled with what looks like tomato stains.

“Looks like you’ve been through war,” I tease as she ushers me in.

Rachel wraps me in her arms. “Looks like you’ve been through worse.” I know what she’s referring to: the deep bags under my eyes, my mussed-up hair, the pallor of my skin.

It’s been a rough week.

After my first meeting with Dr. Cheng, I realized there might just be something about this therapy thing after all. It wasn’t at all what I expected. Our first meeting was casual, similar to a conversation I’d have with someone at work … except the questions were much more personal in nature. And one-sided.

Okay, so not like a work conversation at all.

But I didn’t hate it. And I went back again earlier this week. Dr. Cheng suggested we meet twice a week, for now, since I’ve apparently got a lot of shit to work through. During that initial meeting, he helped me realize one thing: I do want kids. I really do. But not for the right reasons.

I think part of me yearns for this connection to prove to myself that I can do it right. That I can care for someone better than my parents could. That I can nurture and protect, when I couldn’t for Océane.

But as Océane said, she never expected me to be a parent, a protector, or anything of the sort. All she wants is a brother.

So, as much as I wanted to fight it out and argue for my sake, and explain all these epiphanies to Sophie … I accept that she needs space right now. But every second I’m away from her terrifies me. Because there’s a good chance she’ll realize she can do better.

I’ve got many perks as a potential partner. I make good money, I know my way around a kitchen—and children—and to top it all off, I’m experienced where it counts. If I’m to take Sophie’s responses to our bodies coming together over the last weeks, she views it as a positive too.

But there’s one thing I don’t have experience in.

A real relationship.

I don’t know what’s supposed to happen after a couple of weeks in a relationship. Incidentally, that’s where Sophie and I were headed before she asked me for space.

Now my bed has never felt this cold—this lonely. I got by just fine only watching Sophie from the sidelines for years, content to simply have her in my life in some way. But now that I’ve had a taste of real life with her, of what our love could be, the withdrawal is agonizing.

Rachel ushers me into the kitchen, where Océane is happily seated at the table, engrossed in a paperback novel. She gives me a big smile before returning to her reading. Karan and the kids are nowhere in sight, so when Rachel returns to stir the pot of sauce on the stovetop, I grab Karan’s apron from its hook and put it on. We effortlessly fall into a familiar routine reminiscent of our teenage years: while Rachel manages the sauce and cooks the pasta, I chop vegetables for the crudité platter. Océane remains at the kitchen table, contentedly reading her book and enjoying our company.

It feels right. The three of us, together like this. I can’t pretend I don’t still feel the stinging bites of shame when I look at Océane, but I’m working on it.

She’s worth it.

I break the comfortable silence. “Where did Karan go with the kids?”

Rachel gives me a crooked smile. “I shooed them away. I thought it would be good to just be the three of us for a little while.” She looks back at Océane with a knowing smile, and my youngest sister puts her book down. Her expression is now serious—and directed at me.

“Oh.” My stomach sinks. I know what they’re trying to do. After we had our big conversation last week and I’d wrapped up the day with my appointment with Dr. Cheng, I told them everything that happened with Sophie.

So now they’re going to play big sisters, even though I’m the oldest, and give me a pep talk or something like that. I’m usually up for it. There’s nothing I can’t say to Rachel, and I’m sure Océane will happily support me through this because that’s just who she is. But part of me feels like this should be mine to bear alone.

I’ve walked straight into this hell. Worse; I’ve paved my way here.

“So …” Rachel pours some pasta into a pot of boiling water and gives me the side eye. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or are we going to have to pry it out of you?”

“The pry it out thing.”

She rolls her eyes. Behind us, Océane chortles. “Why do you have to make this hard?” my baby sister giggles. “You know she’s going to get it out of you anyway.”

“Exactly,” Rachel continues. “So why not just come out with it?”

I sigh. My hands pause the veggie chopping. “Can we just … cook in silence while I wallow in my misery?”

“Absolutely not.” Rachel pulls the knife from my hand and I cry out in protest. “We are talking this out, William. Don’t be so immature.”

“You could have just cut yourself! Or me!” I gesture at the knife she’s now holding. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“With her?” Océane screeches out, just as Rachel touches her chest in feigned indignation. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

Rachel rolls her eyes again. “Oh my God. You’re such a guy. Seriously.” She sets the knife on the counter and points to the kitchen table, where Océane now sits with her arms crossed. “Sit.”

“But—”

“I said, sit .”

“Fine. Geez.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I obey Rachel, dropping into the faux leather-covered kitchen chair next to Océane. Crossing my arms, I alternate my gaze between the two of them. “Happy?”

Rachel leans against the table and glares at me. “Not yet.” A strand of hair falls in front of her face. With the tomato stains on her apron and that fiery look in her eyes, she appears slightly deranged. It’s intimidating enough that I’m tempted to spill everything. “Now. I was under the impression that the kind, fun, beautiful woman you brought over to my house the other night was the woman of your dreams.”

I frown. “She is.”

Océane scoffs. Rachel cocks her head sideways. “Oh, really? So why are you acting like a little bitch?”

My eyes go wide. “Excuse me?” Rachel has never spoken to me like this.

“You’re just going to come here and wallow and not do anything about it?”

“She said she needed space.”

“Oh, bullshit,” both sisters exclaim. Rachel shakes her head and continues, “She’s had space. That woman doesn’t need space, Will. She needs to feel safe in choosing you. You need to help her feel safe.”

“What?” I don’t know what to think of all this. All I know is my heart is about to burst out of my chest.

“Listen.” Rachel narrows her eyes. “If you’re going to get her back, you can’t keep your thoughts in that brain of yours, brother. You can’t just wallow and wait it out.” She slaps one hand against the table, making me jump. “Talk to us, for fuck’s sake. Help us help you figure this out.”

Tension coils within me, starting as a tightness in my chest and spreading to my clenched fists and rigid shoulders. My jaw aches from being tightly set, and a hot wave of frustration washes over me, making my pulse quicken. The pressure builds until it feels unbearable, like a volcano ready to erupt.

“I fucked up, okay?” I finally cry out, slamming my fist down on the table.

Océane’s hand strokes my back. She shouldn’t be the one trying to make me feel better. I’ve yet to earn it. Pins and needles prickle my skin. When neither sister pipes up, the words come tumbling out. “I didn’t just fuck up once. I’ve been fucking up for the past ten years. Jumping from one relationship to the next, never satisfied, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind me …” A knot forms in my throat. “That behaviour has come back to bite me in the ass now. I can tell Sophie that I love her and only her until my voice gives out, but … actions speak louder than words, and my actions have been mostly shit for too long.”

Rachel’s expression softens. “I see.”

“And it’s not just that. She thinks I want her for the kids. To be a dad.” Rachel’s eyes widen in shock. Océane gasps. “If it was only that, or if it was only the serial dating thing on its own, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But try to see it from her perspective.” I take a deep breath. “The guy I was friends with for my entire life cheated on her. She has seen me jump from woman to woman for ten years. And now she’s convinced I’m using her as a ticket to fatherhood. With all that working against me, I don’t blame her for not trusting me. Wouldn’t you, too?”

Rachel stays quiet for a moment, her silence hanging in the air like a held breath. Then, like a spring uncoiling, she surges towards me, enveloping my head against her chest in a swift, fierce embrace. Océane joins her almost instantly, pressing against my side with a gentle, comforting warmth. I close my eyes, surrendering to their sisterly affection. For a fleeting instant, it washes over me like a soothing balm, easing the ache in my heart. But only for one short moment.

“Okay. You did good, Will. Thank you for finally talking to us.” Rachel lets me go and sits in the chair facing mine. “We can figure this out.” Océane releases me next, but not before pressing a kiss on my forehead.

“What’s there to figure out?” I shrug my shoulders in defeat. The back of my throat burns. “Like I said, actions speak louder than words. I could earn her trust over time, but she’d have to trust me enough to let me get that chance in the first place.” I don’t know if that’s a risk she’s willing to take.

“Okay,” Rachel says, her voice now soft and soothing, back to normal. “So, let’s not focus on words, then.”

“Rachel’s right. Let’s focus on actions.” Océane strokes my arm in comfort.

“I don’t think Sophie is the type to fall for a grand gesture.” What Sophie needs is stability. She needs to feel loved for who she is—for all of her, and only her.

A spark of clarity ignites within me. All at once, I see the path forward. I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes, trying to focus.

Looking at it straight-on is painful. Taking this path will require a gut-wrenching sacrifice. But it might just give me a shot at winning Sophie’s trust once and for all.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asks as she places a soft hand on my shoulder.

I straighten my back with resolve, looking deep into Océane’s eyes. If I can face her, I can face whatever comes next. “I know what I need to do.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.