Elias
Oscar plops down on the couch as soon as we’re at his house and lets out a tired sounding sigh. Our personal trainer killed us at the gym with a stupid amount of squats and endless deadlifts he insisted we keep doing.
Isobel sits on the other end of the couch and lifts her swollen ankles into Oscar’s lap and wiggles her toes until he starts rubbing the tender areas. Olivia crawls onto my lap and giggles loudly when I throw her up above my head.
“So…” Isobel hums, a playful look on her face. “It was nice meeting your fiancée last weekend.”
Oscar chuckles. “I can’t believe you kept her from us.”
I roll my eyes and grab the pillow from next to me and whack my brother with it. Olivia laughs loudly, and Oscar frowns playfully.
Neither of them have brought up what happened last weekend, and I haven’t offered much on the subject either.
The truth is, I have no damn idea what happened the other night and I doubt I’m going to get an answer.
Bridget didn’t ask for my help but I’d been inclined to give it to her, just to get her away from that loser that was hounding her.
“How do you know her anyway?” Isobel asks. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Oscar tilts his head to the side and looks at Isobel in amusement. “He was creeping on her at the club when we went out.”
I scoff as Isobel laughs. “First of all, I wasn’t creeping on her, and secondly, I’m surprised you even noticed.”
“I was drunk, not oblivious.” He turns to Isobel. “You should’ve seen him. He looked like an idiot with his tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth. It was pathetic, really.”
Olivia giggles when Oscar demonstrates and squeals when he reaches cross and takes her from my lap and peppers her face with kisses. “Daddy!” she screams.
Isobel watches the two of them with fondness as she takes a drink of her tea. “I can’t say I blame him,” she says. “She’s a hottie.”
I nod. “An absolute smoke-show.”
I let my mind drift back to how beautiful she looked last weekend, just like I have most nights when I’m lying in bed with my hand wrapped around my dick.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t fantasized most nights to the idea of her creamy thighs wrapped around my head as she comes on my face, or how good my hand would look wrapped around the base of her neck.
The feel of her warm and soft skin isn’t something I’m going to forget soon.
I clear my throat as I feel heat rush to my cheeks and have to remind myself that now is not an appropriate time to be thinking about her like that. All vulnerable and needy, wet and pink—
Oscar punches my arm, bringing me out of my daydream, and looks at me with a knowing smirk.
“He’s thinking about her naked,” he announces to Isobel, who reaches over and pulls on the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ow! What?”
Isobel nods at Olivia who is playing with the sleeve of Oscar’s sweatshirt. “There is a little gremlin present and she doesn’t need to know about whatever X-rated scene is playing through her uncle’s head right now.”
My brother and I both chuckle as my niece crawls over to Isobel. She rests her head on Isobel’s protruding belly, and a warmth spreads across my chest as I watch the two of them cuddle. Isobel presses a kiss on her forehead, and Oscar smiles, wrapping his arms around the both of them.
I stay at their place for a little while longer before I head back to my apartment.
It’s not until I’m sitting on my own couch that I feel it then, the loneliness.
I feel it every time I leave their house or my parents’ place.
Both houses filled with such love and warmth, while my apartment feels like it’s the complete opposite.
It’s cold and quiet. Sure, I’ve put a lot of time and effort into making it what it is, but it’s still missing something.
A family.
It’s dark out when my buzzer rings.
I’m elbow-deep in a bowl of pasta I made when I got fed up of sitting on my ass, feeling sorry for myself.
I spent the rest of my afternoon on my couch, looking on Hinge and Tinder to see what was out there, but I only felt deflated.
The last time I went on a date with someone was a few months back, and while she was smart, pretty, and ticked most of my boxes, there was something missing.
Alba moved to Vancouver from Madrid for school when she was nineteen and has been here ever since. The twenty-eight-year-old seemed full of life, with a bright and engaging personality, and every time we spoke I felt like she was a good match. Not to mention, the sex with the Latina was incredible.
We dated casually for two months or so, before I called it quits and told her I felt like there was something missing and that we weren’t a good match. She was upset but understanding, and that’s the best outcome I could’ve asked for.
I haven’t seen her since.
The buzzer rings again, and I let out a groan as I scoop up the last of my pasta and shove it into my mouth. I take the bowl to the kitchen and dump it in the sink as I reach for the white phone that hangs next to the refrigerator.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sweetheart.” The familiar voice fills my ears, and a smile graces my lips.
“The door’s open,” I tell her. “Come on up.”
I hang up and make my way down the hall to the front door.
I hear the sound of the elevator doors ping open and close just as I open the front door.
My mom stands in front of me in a flowy linen dress that falls just above her sandal-clad feet.
She’s holding a large brown paper bag that she passes to me as she makes her way inside.
Her hair is pulled back and secured with a bobby pin in the same style she’s worn since I was a kid.
Mom stands on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss against my cheek as she wraps her slim arms around my shoulders. “Is it just me, or are you getting taller?”
I chuckle into her hair and give her a squeeze. “Well, this is a surprise,” I say, closing the door behind her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She looks around the apartment, her eyes snagging on the pile of plate that are stacking up in the kitchen and shakes her head.
“I just wanted to come and see my son,” she says as she takes a seat on the couch.
“You haven’t come to see me recently. I was beginning to think maybe you were occupied with… I don’t know…a lady, perhaps?”
I know where this conversation is headed.
She wants to know if I’m dating anyone.
We have this conversation at least once a month, and every time I see the little look of disappointment on her face when I tell her I’m not interested in dating anyone.
I had told her about Alba, and when it came down to them meeting each other—I couldn’t do it.
I didn’t want to bring someone I didn’t see a future with around my family.
“I would tell you if I was dating someone.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Interesting.” I frown.
“I was talking to Caroline from book club and she said the oddest thing to me. She said that her nephew saw you with your fiancée at Oscar’s event last weekend.
” She laughs. “And I said, ‘Isn’t it wonderful? My son, engaged!’ I had to pretend like I knew what she was talking about, because I thought, surely my own son would tell me if he was dating someone, let along engaged! Elias, when were you going to tell me?”
I feel the colour drain from my face as she looks at me expectantly. She’s mad, but there is also a little slither of hope in the way her eyes crinkle, her mouth pulled up at one side.
“Mom, I—”
She stands from where she sits and begins to pace, cutting me off. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She pauses. “Does your father know?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t spoken to him since he left, Mom. Listen—”
“I want to meet her,” Mom says, looking at me with a stern, yet slightly excited expression. “I don’t want to hear any excuses as to why you can’t make it. It’s happening, whether you like it or not.”
“Mom, can you—”
She walks over and sits down beside me. Mom places her hand on my knee and pats it twice.
“I’m so happy to hear you’ve finally found someone, sweetheart.
Since Oscar and Isobel announced their engagement and that they’re expecting again, I’ve been worried about you.
I don’t want you to be all by yourself in this apartment, but now that you’ve found someone, I feel relieved and happy to know you’re not going to be alone. ”
She begins to get a plan in place, and I find myself sweating. She can’t meet a fiancée I don’t have. How the fuck am I supposed to tell her my so-called fiancée is just some random girl I met at Oscar’s event and we aren’t really engaged?
“Mom, will you just—”
Mom waves her hand. “Not now, sweetie. I’m thinking.”
She already thinks I’ve been hiding it from her, and telling her I don’t have a fiancée will only sound like a lie. I watch as she rambles on about god knows what, but I can’t hear her over the sound of my blood pumping in my ears.
“Elias, are you listening?” she snaps, waving her hand in my face. “I asked what her name is.”
I open and close my mouth to tell her and let her disappointment in me resurface, but the happy look on her face stops me.
Fuck it, what’s one more dinner with a fake fiancée?
I take a deep breath and say, “Bridget.”
She beams at me. “What a beautiful name,” Mom comments and then claps her hands together. “Elias and Bridget,” she says to herself. “Your names sound so good together, don’t you think?”
There’s a knot wedged deep in the back of my throat, but I put on a tight smile and nod. “Yeah, real good.”