26. September 28th
Angie
“Did your brothers say why they wanted us to come early today?” Rafael asks, turning into the home field park.
“Not really,” I say. “But apparently Jonah is bringing Yogi and Rugger.”
“God, they’re cute. I still can’t believe he got two dogs.”
“I can’t believe he found two Great Pyrenees pups at a shelter. Not exactly a breed you’d see there often.”
When we step out of the car into the dewy morning air, the two white fluff balls are rolling around and play-fighting with each other. They’re much bigger than the last time I saw them when Jonah tried to bring them to the beach.
There are a few other players getting here at the same time, but we make our way to my three brothers all standing in a little huddle with their kits on the ground nearby. They’re still in their warmup sweats and sandals, and Jonah’s mop of blonde hair doesn’t look like it was combed this morning and his whole body is covered in white dog hair.
Looking at the three of them, I’m reminded how the hair color of the Johanssen kids looks like the printer ran out of ink. Me and Isaiah have the darkest, followed by Dane with a sandy brown, and Jonah and Ivy with blonde.
Their demeanors sort of match that now that I think about it. Isaiah is gruff and grumpy. Dane is naturally a social person, but he also gets a little grumpy when things aren’t going his way. And Jonah… Oh, Jonah. Brother Sunshine. He’s never met a person he can’t charm.
“I’ll let you catch up with them,” Raf says. “I’m gonna help Snarf line the field.”
“Sure. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He walks away carrying my bag chair, blanket, and his kit before turning to my younger brothers.
The three of them spot us just before Jonah throws his arms open to hug me. “Angie-Pangie! Did you bring orange slices today?”
“Of course I did.”
“Dude, come on,” Isaiah grumbles. “We talked about this.”
Jonah pulls back and crosses his arms and his expression changes from his natural smile to a frown.
My head rears back as I take them all in. “What’s going on?”
Isaiah clears his throat. “We know you two shared a room when we were in Saranac.”
“What’s your point?” I say calmly, but a burst of panic sets in. This shouldn’t be worthy of discussion with them. It was never uncommon for us to share a room or a bed from time to time if the situation called for it.
Dane goes next. “Wheels’ wife said she saw you two out at dinner the other night.”
“So? People eat together.”
I think I know what night he’s talking about. We were at a trendy restaurant for a mocktail happy hour that turned into apps and dinner, and when the Cuban music started playing, we had to dance.
You know, normal friend stuff.
Well…normal for us.
Dane then pulls his phone from his pocket and shows me a picture from Jay’s social media account. “What about this?” he accuses.
It’s a series of photos from the ABBA cover band concert we all attended last week. But the specific picture Jonah shows me is of Cora in Marco’s arms smiling at the camera, pink and purple lights cast over their bodies and illuminate their surroundings. Jay’s focus was to take a picture of his husband and wife, but in the background is a picture of me and Rafael in the same exact pose. His big arms are wrapped around my shoulders and his chin rests on top of my head. We were swaying to the music, entranced by the performers.
I don’t blame Jay for posting that picture. In fact, he asked for permission to post them before doing so. We approved the pictures because, well, we didn’t see anything wrong with it. That’s us. That’s the normal level of affection we’ve always shown each other.
But as I study it under the lens that I think my brothers are, my knees go a little weak and my gut drops. Can they see it? Can they see the unrequited feelings? Can they see how I’ve let Rafael use me like an unacknowledged girlfriend all these years?
I’ve let him play pretend with our relationship for as long as I can remember because I’m weak for him and if I ever called him on it, I’d expose us. I’d expose the part of Rafael he’s worked to keep locked away from fleeting partners. I’d expose that I’ve known all along what he’s been doing, and that I’ve encouraged it. I’ve leaned hard into it with sex, decorating the house, and the intimate conversations about our teenage crushes—it’s all led here.
I’ve allowed this to happen and blatantly ignored the inevitable destruction of my heart. I did this before he got me pregnant, and now I’ve amplified it.
Goddammit.
I try to hide my fear and shame from them before shrugging, “It was just a concert.”
“You look like you’re in love,” Isaiah says bluntly.
“It’s the lighting,” I smile weakly.
“Shut up, it is not,” Jonah finally interjects with an eye roll.
It’s my turn to cross my arms. “Are you guys going to get to the point?”
“Yeah!” Jonah says, then turns to Dane. “You tell her.”
“Jesus, dude,” he mutters with a shake of his head and then asks me, “Why aren’t you getting married?”
Okay, that’s not exactly where I thought he was going with this interrogation, but my cheeks heat regardless. My gaze darts away. “Because people who are just friends don’t get married,” I say quietly.
“Cut the shit, Ang,” Isaiah groans. “Listen, I don’t like the idea of you and Raf as a couple any more than them,” he snarls with a hooked thumb pointing to Dane and Jonah. “But that’s only because we see him and Joaquín as our bonus brothers.”
Dane winces. “Well…”
Isaiah ignores him and continues. “But are you really going to stand here and lie to us that something isn’t happening between you two?”
I am far from admitting the truth to these three. I don’t owe them anything. The only people who know about the true arrangement Raf and I have are Cora, Marco, and Jay, and it’s going to stay that way.
“Nothing is happening, guys,” I smile in an attempt to deflect.
“Oh okay,” Jonah says in a mocking tone. “Let’s pretend nothing’s happening. Sure. Irregardless—”
“That’s not a word,” I mutter.
“—you guys should get married anyway. For the kids.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
I stare at Dane.
I stare at Isaiah.
“All three of you think that?” They all nod in various degrees. “That’s fucking ludicrous, you trad-family-at-any-cost morons!”
Jonah’s brow furrows. “Huh?”
Shaking my head, I level a glare at them. “I’m not going to marry him just because I’m pregnant. That’s some patriarchal bullshit fueled by religion.”
“Why not? Mom did and they were happy,” Dane argues.
“No, she didn’t! She wrote in my baby journal that they planned on getting married anyway. And that they were very much in love.”
“Oh,” Isaiah says in flat understanding.
“I’m not going to enter into a marriage with someone who doesn’t love me.” Dane tries to add something, but I cut him off. “In that way. I deserve someone who wants to be married to me simply because they love me—not out of obligation.”
“Ang,” Isaiah sighs.
“No,” I say, lowering my voice to a level and a tone I haven’t used with them in a long time. “I’ve said all that you need to hear. You’re not going to pester me or Parent Trap me into marrying him. End of discussion.”
When their silence drags on too long and their heads lower, I know I’ve won, but the victory feels hollow.
“I just don’t want to see you alone,” Isaiah mutters, his words pinching at my heart in a surprising way.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I say gently. “And Raf’s always going to be around, you guys.”
“He better be,” Dane says under his breath.
My gaze travels to a handful of other players who have arrived and are starting to gear up. “Thank you for your misplaced brotherly love, but it looks like you should get ready with your team. Oh hey, Isaiah—is that Robyn and her dad walking over here.”
His head whips around to see where I’m indicating. “What?” he asks, suddenly on high alert. “Crap. Why is she—I gotta go warm up,” he stammers then wraps me in a quick bear hug. “Love you, Ang.”
Isaiah books it for his teammates, and then Jonah and Dane each give me a hug and when they’ve sat down to start booting up, Raf comes toward me in a jog from lining the field. “What did they want?”
I shake my head. “You’re not going to believe this. They asked me why we weren”t getting married.”
“What?” he asks with his eyebrows sky-high.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“Wait… Do you want to?”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “What? No,” I say immediately, but not before my heart leaps at the saddest excuse for a proposal I’ve ever heard.
Is that really his response? Is the thought just now popping into his thick skull? I try to shake off the idiotic response my brain is firing at me. Didn’t I just ream my brothers out for thinking the same thing?
“Yeah, I was going to say…” He smiles and for the first time those dimples of his piss me off. “I didn’t realize they felt that way. Alright, well I’m gonna get ready with the team. I’ll see you after,” he smiles again and jogs away.
He smiled.
He smiled because it’s so fucking ridiculous for him to imagine being married to me, to commit to me. I feel the babies kick and I take that as solidarity.
This is my own fault. I opened this door. I repeatedly ignored my feelings, ignored my heart and its stupid attachment to him—the attachment that has only grown stronger since we’ve started fucking.
Even that word doesn’t feel right.
We haven’t been fucking. Not even from the beginning. Yes, they’ve mostly been fantasies we’ve enacted but… I haven’t been fucking him. I’ve been… Shit. I let the person I trust more than anyone else make love to me. He might not know it, but I do.
I’ve been purposefully ignoring my true feelings just like I have my whole life with Raf. How can I be so honest everywhere else when it comes to what I feel and how I communicate, but I can’t get it right with him?
Because if he knew, everything would end.
I would ruin everything. The closeness. Our laughter. His family. I’d lose my living mothers, Ana and Christina.
By keeping my mouth shut, I’ve been protecting my heart and almost everything it values. I’ve grown accustomed to hiding, but can I keep doing this after everything we’ve been through in the last six months?
But I know Rafael better than anyone, maybe better than himself sometimes. He’s a loyal friend and brother. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s going to stick around for these babies. I’m not even remotely concerned about that. So if that’s the case, maybe it is a safe time to step back.
From this arrangement.
From him.
From us.
I need to put up the divider that I needed a long time ago. Just like the first day we met, I need to draw a line down the middle of our desks and create some semblance of separation.
My heart needs the boundary if it’s ever going to survive.
It’s time to end our arrangement. It’s time to dissolve our too-close friendship. The platonic intimacy he seeks is too fucking real to me—it gives me unwarranted hope, which only fuels the desire to keep it burning.
I feel like his shameful secret—the one he parades around in plain view of everyone. I can’t be the girlfriend or wife he says he doesn’t want.