Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
L iam
I tear open the small package of restaurant wet wipes, given only to patrons who order the smothered wings and tug out the small, saturated wipe.
I look at my brothers, who are seated around the table, while I wipe the stickiness away, sensing that something is up. Lunch is typically a noisy affair among the Wheaton men, but today, they’ve been oddly quiet. I have the feeling they’re about to remedy that with something geared in my direction. Something I’m already dreading.
Braxton and Beau look at each other, nod slightly, and then turn to my twin, Luke. I follow their gaze to see Luke shrug and finish his sandwich in one last bite.
"Hey, Liam," Braxton begins. "We've been kind of noticing?—"
"Who’s we? " I interrupt because obviously, Luke doesn’t seem invested.
" I have been noticing,” Braxton continues, “along with Beau and Luke, that you seem to be sort of…" He fiddles with his napkin as his lips twist.
I clear my throat and suck in a long, slow breath. "Sort of what ?" My limbs tighten; a preemptive defense that’s become second nature to me.
"Stuck," Beau fills in for him.
"Really?” I sound as pissed off as I am, so I take it down a notch on the volume. “Stuck how exactly?"
"Do you need them to spell it out for you?" Luke mumbles over his food.
"Stuck in your little pity party ways,” Beau fills in. Leave it to him to be the bluntest one of the bunch.
"Okay," Braxton says, “that's not the way we wanted to address it, but yeah. We know you’re dating and everything, but we think you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to give anyone a real chance."
"Fear obviously plays a part in that, too," Beau says, setting both elbows on the table and lowering his chin. "Listen, I know you’ve been…" He puts up finger quotes. " Playing the field for a while now. You’re going to the fortysomething singles meet-ups, you're asking women out here and there, but it doesn't seem like you're really giving any of them a chance."
“Facts,” Luke pipes up while reaching for his drink.
I lean back against my seat and glare at my newly engaged brother, Beau. "Spoken like a man who found his next fiancée mere months after his divorce." I’m not sure whether I sound accusatory or just plain jealous. The fact is, I am jealous. Here, Luke and I have been playing the field for a collective three-and-a-half years, and suddenly, Beau swoops in and picks up the newest, hottest single right after his divorce like it's the easiest thing in the world.
“My situation is different, and you know it,” Beau says evenly.
Yes, it is. The look in his eyes reminds me that Beau’s gone through hell in his own right. The poor guy found out Trish was having an affair with the married father of his son’s best friend. Wrap your head around that one.
After discovering that indiscretion—something Beau did alongside Kirsten, the other man’s wife, the disgruntled pair became friends and later fell in love.
I glare over at Braxton and Luke next. I don’t even need to gear up for these guys. "And you two…” I shake my head. “Braxton, good for you for suddenly growing a human heart after acting like a pig for all these years. You finally found your dream woman. I’m happy for Maggie and you both."
I don’t sound like I mean it, but I mostly do. I turn to my twin next. "And Luke, you're still waiting for that transplant, aren't you? At least I know how to treat a woman. At least I treated Gabrielle like a queen when we were married."
"Yeah, too bad she was busy treating you like a peasant," he says with a sneer.
The jerk probably sat across from me for a reason. If he were any closer, I’d clock him.
"Well then, it's no wonder I'm having a hard time moving on!" I slam my hands on the table, glad we’re in a noisy sandwich joint and not some fancy restaurant with fragile china and haughty guests. "You think I’m supposed to just trust again all of a sudden? After I gave Gabrielle my heart, my life, my everything, and she just crapped all over it like it was garbage?"
“That’s the whole point. It’s been almost two years, and you're still sussed out by everyone. You think they’re all going to be exactly like Gabrielle, and that’s just not the case.”
“I don’t think everyone is going to be like her,” I defend.
“No?” Braxton snaps. “You came up with the code GV for every time a woman gives you Gabrielle Vibes.” He shakes his head. “Not healthy.”
My inner coach comes out and tells me to take a few deep breaths.
Beau gives Braxton a nod in the quiet pause.
Braxton tips his head. “I put it in Luke's briefcase."
All eyes turn to Luke as he produces something from his case. Instead of sliding it toward me, though, he hands it over to Braxton.
Braxton shields the cover with his chest and lowers his chin to point a serious look at me. "I think this book could change your life,” he says. "And when I talked to Beau and Luke about it, they agreed. This copy has been signed personally by the author, who Maggie met at her coffee shop. This guy knows what he's talking about, trust me."
With that dramatic introduction, Braxton finally hands over the stupid book. It’s a hardbound copy with huge black and red font across the cover. I'm tempted to read it aloud, but since that would be for my brothers’ benefit, I read it silently instead. Not Everybody Is Your Ex; A guide to getting over yourself and getting into someone new.
I plop the book down and turn my chin to one side. I glare at each of my brothers in turn. "Getting over myself ? Are you guys freaking serious?"
Braxton’s the only one with enough decency to look ashamed with a downcast glance, but soon he looks back at me. “I knew you wouldn't like the subtitle."
"I don't like any of it. This is a slap in the face after everything I've been through."
"Maybe you need to get slapped upside the head," Beau says. "How else will you get out of your lame, poor me rut?"
Coach is waving both arms now, a desperate attempt to delay my reaction until I calm down.
“You know what?” Luke says. “I know I agreed to back you up with this little powwow here, but I'm kind of with Liam on this one. I don't think he's the problem, and I don't think I'm the problem either. Women are the problem. And now that you two are living in Lala Land with your brides-to-be," Luke says accusingly with nods to Braxton and Beau in turn, "you're out of touch with how things really are. We've been out here playing the forty-something field, which is something you never had to do, Braxton, and something Beau barely had a taste of. But for Liam and me, man, it’s rough. I think we’re killing it under the circumstances.” Luke pins a satisfied look on both brothers in turn, his shoulders and chest puffing like he's proud of himself.
"What a load of crap," Braxton says.
“Seriously,” Beau agrees.
Luke secures his napkin and dabs his face. "I thought it was poetic." He crinkles the napkin, throws it toward the center of the table, and tosses a few bills on top of it. "I've got to get back to work." He stands, makes his way toward the exit, and swats Tina, a waitress he used to date, on the tush before walking out the door.
“Luke,” she squeals playfully. “You’re so bad.”
I shake my head. “Luke’s doing crap like that, and I’m the one you’re worried about?”
“He’s beyond help,” Beau says like it’s obvious.
The fact is, I don't want to be lumped in with the Lukes of the world. I study the two left sitting at the table. They say if you want to become successful, you should surround yourself with successful people. Braxton and Beau have successfully found what I, myself, am looking for. And while I think it’s got more to do with luck than anything else, I'd rather be like them than like my divorced chronic–bachelor twin brother who’s now reverting to his old high school behavior, which—Tina aside—doesn’t exactly fly in this day and age.
I look down at the book and groan. My defenses are revving hot and ready for battle. Barry Brown is the author’s name. That joker doesn’t know what I’ve been through. No one does, not even my brothers. Heck, I couldn’t tell them all the crud Gabrielle did while we were married, or they’d hate her. After the divorce, I still couldn’t tell them, or they’d lose respect for me. Not that they hadn’t seen enough for themselves at family events.
“If it will make you guys happy, I'll take the book,” I say, “but I’m probably not going to read it."
“You should at least read more than the title,” Beau says. “Give it a shot.”
“Maggie thinks this is fate,” Braxton says. “The book that came into her shop when she met me made a big difference in our relationship. And she thinks this one could make a big difference in your life, too.”
“Mmm hmm,” I manage.
“Look,” Braxton adds, “either it will help you or it won't, but on the chance that it does, what have you got to lose?"
The phrase What have you got to lose is possibly one of the most overused phrases around. But right now, the words actually land because it’s the second time I've heard them in one day. Just this morning, my seventeen-year-old son, Cam, suggested I ask out his history teacher, who happens to be single.
She’s lonely, Dad, like you. When I told him I wasn’t sure it’d be kosher, he countered with, “Oh yeah? What have you got to lose?”
“Are you going to tell him?” Braxton asks Beau like I’m not at the table anymore.
The two look at me before glancing over their shoulder toward the exit. Luke is long gone.
Beau clears his throat. “It’s a matter of time before you find this out for yourself,” he prefaces, “but Ashley’s back in town.”
It feels like a grenade has gone off in my chest. “Huh?”
“Well, she’s living just outside of town, but she’s back. Divorced.”
Cue the second cliché of the day—the ever-elusive, pine-provoking, one that got away.
I gulp, not wanting to do anything with the information. Simultaneously, I want to do everything. There’s a barrier, and I don’t know how thin that barrier is, that prevents me from doing all the things that play out in my mind. Call her, text her, hit her up on social media, stage a happen-to-run-into-her event.
But then something occurs to me. “She hasn’t even reached out.” It’s a crappy feeling, actually, one I work to sort through aloud. “She has to know I’m divorced. We see Annica at the singles meetups all the time. I’m surprised she didn’t tell me.”
Beau shifts in his seat and takes a swig of his drink. “Loretta said Ashley’s living with her folks. She and her ex share custody of the kids. I don’t know how long it’s been, but according to Loretta, she’s using her maiden name again.”
I nod, thinking that’s a good indication she doesn’t see herself going back to him down the road. That’s another fear of mine when dating a recent divorcee.
I run a hand down my face, wishing I could erase whatever makes me look broken. There’s a new emotion threatening to rise, prickly and hot. Rejection, jealousy, hurt? I’ve always sort of figured that if things didn’t work out for Ashely, she’d be anxious to reach out to me, knowing I’m divorced and all.
I glance at the offending book once more. “Huh.” I barely manage the reply through the hot sting searing my blood. It’s supposedly my fault I’m still single after giving everything I had to the woman I married and the family we made together?
I’m the one who has to get over myself?
“You know what?” I say, scooting my chair back and coming to a stand. I retrieve my wallet, toss a few twenties on the table, and leave the book where it rests, right on a sticky glob of sauce and the wadded wipe.
“I don’t think I’ll take that after all. Tell Maggie thanks anyway. I’ve got to get back to the office too. Catch you guys later.”