9. What the fuck alternate universe have I entered?
9 /
what the fuck alternate universe have i entered?
rafael
I wake up with a headache and the weird, tight feeling in the middle of my chest that hasn’t left me since Charlie walked away from me in my own backyard. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s still early and decide I have time for a quick run before I head to Elaina and Adam’s place for brunch. My movements are practiced, almost robotic—I’ve done this every day since I was a teenager. Running and exercising have always been necessary for me. I need to let out pent-up energy and clear my thoughts.
After getting my five miles in, I shower, grab the ingredients I need for brunch, and head out.
Adam is outside with a big smile before I even get out of my car. Frankie, their dog, is hiding behind Adam’s legs as he pulls me into a hug, patting my back. “Hey, man.” When he pulls back, he takes one look at my face and his eyebrows furrow. “I wasn’t gonna make mimosas, but I’ll pop open some bubbly for you if you want. You look like you need it.”
“No, dude. I’m good.” I laugh, thankful for the lighthearted comment that also tells me he noticed I’m not quite myself. “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” I grab the bags from the backseat and follow him into the house. “Smells like Lainey made some coffee though; I’ll take some of that.”
“How do you know I didn’t make it?” He turns back with a quirked eyebrow.
“Because it smells good. I can tell it was made properly and not like the weak-ass shit you like to brew.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. Lainey’s way better at coffee than I am. She made it before heading to Maeve and Owen’s with Agnes.” Once inside, he pours us both a cup—mine black, and his loaded with cream. It’s one of the many ways his fiancée has influenced him since they met. He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles like it’s not totally fucking disgusting how much cream he just poured into it. “So. How’s your new neighbor?” He pauses, looking up at me, doing that waiting thing he and Elaina do.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since she walked into me.” Frankie walks toward me, and I scratch behind his ear before he runs away again. He still takes his time warming up to me, but I’ll take it since the dog doesn’t normally go anywhere near men—unless it’s Adam. He’s always loved Adam.
“I know Lainey talked to you about this, too. Have you given it any more thought?” Only every waking minute since that conversation , I want to say. They asked me to try to make things less awkward with Charlie. Something about the bickering not being a good example for the kids, but I know they just want us to be nice to each other. “I know you two have this weird tension or whatever it is, but it would really mean a lot to her. To us.” He says all of this like I don’t already know.
“Yeah. I know. I’ll talk to her today. I just always feel like such a fucking dumbass around her. ”
“Raf. No.” He pins me with a look that I know all too well. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
I smile because, as my oldest friend, he knows more about me than anyone. We met as young kids, and despite not always being in the same city, we’ve been like brothers since day one. He was the only friend who kept in touch when I was a Marine, and he’s the type of guy who shares his feelings openly. I’ve always admired that about him. So, I know exactly what he’s going to say because I’ve been hearing it for years.
Still, as if he knows I need the words said out loud, he goes on. “You’ve already come so far, Raf. I’m so fucking proud of every single thing you’ve done since the day I met you. From the kind of brother and friend you’ve always been, to your commitment to the Marine Corps, to starting a business and moving into this shared CEO role with Owen. You’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever met, so I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but I am going to tell you that I believe in you. I always have, and I always will. Being nice to Charlie isn’t going to come close to the shit you’ve already been through. You know this.”
My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. And he’s marrying the girl who bakes muffins and makes my favorite soup when I’m sick. Can you believe that? Somehow, they found each other. It’d be sickening, really, if it hadn’t happened to two of the greatest people I’ve ever known.
Yet again, I know he’s right. I tend to be the guy who defaults to it could always be worse , despite the fact that my life hasn’t been all rainbows. Sure, I was adopted by an amazing family, but I still have to deal with the emotions that come from not being wanted by my biological parents. No, I wasn’t taken hostage and nearly killed like Owen while I was a Marine, but I’ve still seen some shit most people can’t even imagine. And no, I haven’t experienced heartbreak in a romantic sense, but I also have never known what it’s like to fall in love in my nearly thirty-three years.
I smile at him, feeling the warmth of gratitude taking over the feelings of anxiety and uncertainty, though those certainly still linger.
“You got this. Just talk to her. Not like she’s better than you or thinks less of you. Not like you’re trying to annoy the ever-living shit out of her. Really talk to her. Let her see the real you.” I nod my head while the fear of Charlie seeing me for who I really am grips me so tightly it’s hard to breathe. The girl is some kind of genius. Maeve mentioned once that she has a double degree in Math and Economics from NYU, and then she went on to get a master's in Financial Economics from Oxford. I’d be intimidated if I wasn’t so fucking impressed. And what am I?
Not answering that question is what I am.
“All right, man, moving on. Let’s get this brunch going before those hungry girls show up and we have nothing ready.” He chuckles and makes his way to the fridge, getting more ingredients out, and we both get started on our dishes. My p?o de queijo is always a hit, and Adam has some sort of cinnamon roll concoction going.
By the time the girls walk into the kitchen an hour later, we’ve got music going, I’ve made fresh coffee, and the table is set.
“Morning, boys! It smells fantastic in here!” Maeve strides in with her nose in the air and a happy grin as she rubs her round belly with both hands. “I’m chuffed to bits. This is impressive!”
Lainey makes her way to Adam, giving him a quick kiss. He takes the car seat from her and pulls it closer to his face, smiling at his sleeping daughter as they both watch her as though it’s for the first time.
Looking away from their private family moment, I walk over to Maeve, and she spreads her arms wide, pulling me into a hug. “Yes, can you believe men actually managed to cook a whole meal all by themselves?” I ask. She laughs, smacking me lightly on the shoulder.
“I can believe these men did, yes. Now, where’s that handsome husband of mine?” Before she finishes the question, Owen turns the corner with a big, cheesy smile as he strides toward his wife.
“Right here, sunshine. Jules is sleeping, finally.” He wraps an arm around her waist, hands resting on the underside of her belly, and kisses her neck. “You hungry?”
I ignore the tone in his voice that makes me believe he’s asking her about more than brunch. I’m happy for my friends, I really am, but everything feels different now. They each have their person to go to when they walk into a room, when they go home, and when they go to sleep at night. And what do I have? A long list of failed dates and near-relationships.
I want what they have. I want it so fucking badly, and I’ve been looking for it for a long time, but no one has fit as well as they seem to with their significant others. It’s starting to become a little frustrating, this wild goose chase to find the person I can fully belong with. Belong to. All while watching my best friends have it all. I’m feeling a little redundant here. Like it wouldn’t matter if I weren’t in the room. And that’s not some self-deprecating, self-pitying bullshit—it’s just how it feels now.
My friends are like my family. That’s what we are to each other, and I’m so lucky to have them. I know I belong in this group as much as anyone else, but something still feels incomplete. Like there’s another unit I’m meant to be a part of. I want to belong with and to someone who’s just mine at the end of the day. And I want to be only theirs.
There’s a weird sense of security in that for me. It’s not something I’ve ever had before. I’m one of six siblings, so the mantra sharing is caring got thrown around a lot in our house. As the only adopted kid, I was sort of thrust upon my family, and sure, they chose me as a baby, but I want to be chosen now . As I am. With all my mistakes and faults and insecurities out in the open.
I rub at my chest, hoping it helps ease the pressure that tends to build there when I think too much about this shit. Then, addressing no one in particular, I shout, “Teapot’s full of peppermint tea. I just brewed some coffee, too, and there’s iced coffee in the fridge.”
I look around for Charlie. I know she doesn’t drink hot coffee, so I made sure to have some waiting in the fridge for when the girls arrived. I spot her on the other side of the kitchen, and she looks up when I mention the coffee, nodding once in acknowledgment. She seems as quietly out of place as I do right now, making me feel a strange sense of camaraderie with the unlikeliest person.
Adam takes the last of the food over to the table, and we all sit to eat. The conversation is light and easy, like it usually is when we’re all together. When Lainey apologetically announces that she and Adam got married just before Agnes was born, Owen and I seem to be the only two people surprised, but we’re also both genuinely so happy for them. We all take turns holding Agnes, and it feels natural, this new dynamic in our little family; though there’s some new tension in the room no one but me seems to notice.
And now Charlie is here. I don’t know for how long, and I don’t know why, but it’s different this time. It’s not just a quick visit. The thought makes my whole body tingle, the way it gets when your leg falls asleep, then you move it, and it’s like pins and needles everywhere. You want to move, want to get away from that feeling, but that only makes it worse. You just have to sit still, waiting for it to pass. But I can’t, so when brunch is over, and everyone heads into the living room with the babies, I walk back into the kitchen quietly, hoping cleaning up is enough to occupy my mind and hands.
I’m just about to start washing the pots and pans when I hear a cup being set on the countertop. I turn, and my eyes widen in surprise, seeing Charlie a few feet away from me. Suddenly, I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain. The air is thinner, harder to pull into my lungs. Just looking at her scrambles my brain cells.
She clears her throat before parting her lips. “Thank you so much for cooking. Those little cheesy bread things you made were perfect.” She’s looking at me, but not in the eyes.
What do I have to do to get her to look at me? To see me?
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.” A long moment passes without either of us saying anything. I’m about to turn back to the dishes when she speaks again.
“I’ll load the dishwasher. You shouldn’t have to clean up alone after cooking.” She starts moving toward the dishes stacked next to the sink, and I breathe in too quickly, the scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils. Roses . She always smells like roses.
It’s my turn to clear my throat now since I’ve let the silence linger too long as it is. “Thanks.”
Yep. You are a great conversationalist. Fucking idiot.
We work in silence for a few minutes, me washing the pots in the sink, and her loading the dishwasher. She’s been chewing on her lower lip the entire time, looking deep in thought about something.
We both start speaking at the same time.
“I need to say something?—”
“So, listen, I was wondering?—”
We stop simultaneously.
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“You go first.”
In an effort not to have this go on any longer, I stop talking, simply nodding at her to continue what she was saying .
“All right, I’ll go first.” She clears her throat, eyes on me. “Thank you for helping me the other day. I didn’t say it then, but that was really nice of you.”
That’s not what I was expecting. Actually, I wasn’t expecting anything. “I thought you did. And it was the least I could do after being the cause of your fall.” All right, so the cause of her fall was her walking with her eyes closed, but if I wasn’t there, she might not have fallen at all, so it’s sort of my fault.
“I’m not finished.” She stops her movements and looks down at her feet, pulling that lower lip into her mouth one more time. “I’d like your help with something.”
I scoff. Loudly, too. Not because I don’t want to help her, but because I am shocked as hell at the sentence that just came out of her mouth. Regret hits me like a bag of bricks to the gut when I see her brows furrow as she takes a step back.
“Never mind. This was a terrible idea.” She shakes her head and walks to the other sink to wash her hands.
Fuck .
“No, Chuck. Wait.” I walk toward her and reach for her arm but think better of it and pull my hand back. She doesn’t seem to like being touched, or maybe it’s just being touched by me. Either way, I’m not about to make her uncomfortable. “I was just surprised. I’m sorry. I actually need to ask you something, too.” She turns her head, so I can see her profile. Her brows have relaxed a bit. “Can we please start over?”
She turns, and I hand her a tea towel to dry her hands. Our fingers brush in the process, and she flinches at the contact. We’ll think about that another time. I need to focus on easing this awkwardness between us.
“Want me to go first?” I ask. She nods, keeping her eyes on her hands. I take a deep breath and just go for it. “I’d like us to spend some time together. Get to know one another. I know I’m not related to anyone here, but these people are my family, too, and neither of us is going anywhere. It’s not fair to them for us to keep doing whatever this is. We owe it to them to learn how to be nice to one another.” She looks up at my face, never reaching my eyes but taking in my features like she’s studying me.
“Is this a joke?” Her brows furrow as she continues to watch me.
“What? No, of course not.” I keep my tone light, hoping she can hear my sincerity. “I thought maybe we could go for walks together, and I guess if you need my help with something, we can work on that too. What do you need my help with, anyway?” I can’t imagine how I could possibly help her, but I’m curious.
“Writing.” She takes a breath in and releases it slowly. “And something else.” This is obviously hard for her, but I need her to tell me what else, so I wait. “I’m just having a hard time describing the relationships my characters have with each other, whether romantic or otherwise.” When she breaks off this time, she doesn’t seem to have much more to add.
“I’m not sure I understand.” I really don’t know what I could do to help her write. And write what? She works in finance.
“I’m struggling with writing about emotions. This next series I’m writing is very heavy on family and romance, and I don’t have a ton of personal experience in either of those fields. I’m struggling to find inspiration. Writing sex scenes or any kind of intimacy is nearly impossible. That’s where you come in.” This isn’t making any sense.
My eyes are as big as dinner plates; I can feel it.
Did she just ask me for help writing sex scenes?
She looks up, and her own eyes widen as she realizes what she’s just said. “And where I lack experience, you have it in bulk. I just need you to help me with writing about it, not with having it myself. I don’t need help with that. I mean, I could probably use it, but not from you . I just need to use your vast experience as inspiration.” Nothing about her face or her body language indicates this is an elaborate joke. She actually looks a bit nervous, she keeps biting the side of her lip and wringing her hands together. She’s 100 percent serious. My brain is melting inside my skull, trying to process what she’s just said.
She just said she needs help with having sex. And she wants me to share my experiences for her book. What the fuck alternate universe have I entered?
“Ginger Spice, let me get this straight. You want me to tell you about my own experiences with having sex to inspire a novel. Is that it?” I’m not sure I’ll ever truly process the sentence that came out of my mouth.
“Yes!” She looks up, and for the briefest moment, her eyes meet mine. As fast as it happens, though, it’s gone. Those big blue eyes are scanning my face again. “You got it. Should be simple enough, no?”
“Um. Sure. Yeah. I’ll help you write sex scenes. That makes sense.” Will she pick up on my sarcasm? Because this is the craziest shit I have ever heard.
“Is that sarcasm?” Her eyebrows are scrunched together on her forehead, and her cheeks are slightly flushed. She seems embarrassed. Fuck . “Are you making fun of me?”
“No, Chuck. I’m just in complete fucking shock right now. You’re writing a book?” I have so many questions, but I don’t want to overwhelm her.
“Oh, I suppose I failed to mention that. Yes. It’s something I’ve done for a long time. Writing helps me be creative. Keeps my overactive brain busy and all that. I like to write stories as a way to process my own emotions, but I’m struggling. Things have been… anyway, it’s just been hard.” She’s very matter-of-fact about it all, but it feels like some part of this story is missing.
“Why are you asking me ? You kind of despise me.” Maybe I’m fishing for her to say something nice here, sue me .
“You want honesty?” She stares down at her hands as her breathing picks up. Fuck, she’s so fucking beautiful, especially up close.
“Always, red.” Her wild, fiery waves are pulled back in a messy bun on top of her head, and I make my hands into fists at the sudden urge to undo it and watch her hair cascade below her shoulders.
She sighs before looking up, but nowhere further north of my chin. “Because I don’t trust people easily. Maeve and Lainey told me I can trust you, and I believe them. Also, the thought of talking about this to a stranger is actually even less appealing than talking to you about it.” She takes a breath, and her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink. “And because I’m kind of tired of this stupid little game we play all the time. Fighting with you when you happen to be friends with my best friend and my sister takes far too much energy.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the way she rolls her eyes as she finishes talking. Finally, her eyes move up, but only as far as my lips. “Thanks for the honesty, carrot cake.”
“You’re welcome. Why did you suddenly decide to be nice to me? The real reason.” She squints her eyes as I consider a sarcastic remark, but decide against it since Charlie doesn’t seem to be a fan of those.
“Well, Lainey and Adam sort of encouraged me to.” It’s a simple truth.
“And if I had said no?” Her arms are now crossed, and I will my eyes to stay on her face and not to move down to where I know they want to go.
“I took a risk. It was worth it.” I pause, opting for a bit of humor. “That and Maeve’s been asking me to be nice to you for a long time, and she’s kind of hard to say no to these days.”
She swallows, and the scowl I’m so used to seeing on her face makes a comeback. “Right. Well then, if we’re all done with our bonding session, I really must be going. We can get together soon. I’ll be in touch.” Her eyes are icy cold as she slaps the tea towel on the countertop and walks away faster than I’ve ever seen her move.
I guess now I wait. And try not to lose my shit over the fact that Charlie is about to become someone I spend time with. Someone I talk to about romance, sex, intimacy, and whatever else she needs help with.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?