A Long Time Coming
: Chapter 15

JP: How’re you feeling, Big Boy?

Clutching a cup of coffee, I text JP and Huxley back in our group thread.

Breaker: Don’t call me that. And not fucking great. I texted some really stupid shit to Lia last night.

JP: I’m going to need a copy of that text thread for my own enjoyment.

Huxley: I normally don’t participate in JP’s shenanigans, but I’m interested in what you said as well.

Breaker: Love how supportive you two are.

JP: If anything, we’re here for you, bro.

Breaker: Yeah, I can tell.

Huxley: What did you say?

Breaker: Oh, pretty much everything besides I love you, and I wish you were mine. Just skirted around all of that. Her responses showed clear confusion, for obvious reasons, and now I have to get myself together to go taste cake with her and her soon-to-be mother-in-law because the fight she got into with Brian last night clearly wasn’t bad enough for her to warrant calling off the wedding.

JP: Sounds like the seventh circle of hell.

Breaker: Pretty much.

Huxley: Are you going to mention the texts?

Breaker: Should I? Or should I just act normal, as if nothing happened?

JP: I would go with the nothing happened. Don’t bring attention to your stupidity. She has enough stupid to deal with when it comes to Brian.

Huxley: I don’t tend to agree with JP very often, but I would have to say he’s probably right on this one. Just act like everything is normal.

Breaker: And what happens when I see her, and all I want to do is reach out and kiss her?

JP: Uh, remember consent is a real thing.

Huxley: You can’t just kiss women without them saying yes, so there you go. Avoid the lawsuit. We already have one we’re dealing with.

Breaker: Thanks for the reminder. Okay, I have to get going. Not going to mention the texts, not going to kiss her, and I’m going to act like everything is normal.

JP: Best plan of action.

Huxley: Still going to wait on the texts from last night.

Breaker: Hux, you’re starting to sound like JP.

JP: Can’t say that’s a bad thing.

I stand, take one last sip of my coffee, and then go back to my bathroom where I brush my teeth and then rinse with mouthwash as well. I check myself in the mirror one last time and then head toward my front door just as there’s a knock on it.

Right on time.

I muster up a smile, open the door, and say, “Morning, Lia,” in the cheeriest, non-awkward, nothing happened at all tones.

Dressed in a purple pair of shorts and a white lace top, she has styled her hair half up and half down, pulling the front strands away from her face, which emphasizes her gorgeous green eyes.

Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

“Hey,” she says shyly. I need to drive our conversation right past last night’s awkward texts and straight into denial, acting like it never happened.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask while I pat my stomach. “It might be early, but I held off breakfast so I can take down some cake.”

Actually, eating cake is the last freaking thing on my list at the moment since I still have a touch of booze belly, but we make sacrifices for the ones we love, right?

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t eat breakfast either.”

“Two peas in a pod, aren’t we?” I loop my arm around her, shut my door behind me, and walk her toward the elevator. From the confused look on her face, I might need to tone down the chipper attitude a bit. I hit the down button and stick my hand in my pocket. “Get a good sleep?” I ask, not sure what else to say.

“Not really,” she says.

“No? Were you thinking too much about what flavor The Beave will force you to get? My guess, something boring like vanilla on vanilla.”

She glances up at me while the elevator doors open. I can sense her confusion and her desire to talk about last night, but like I said, we’re plowing ahead. No need to dwell on the past and things I might have said under the influence.

Denial.

Denial.

Denial.

“So what do you think the flavor will be?”

We ride the elevator down as she says, “Uh, well . . . you’re probably right. Vanilla on vanilla.”

“But we’re going to fuck up that idea, aren’t we?” I wink at her.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“That’s the spirit.” We step off the elevator and walk toward my car. “Now, there’s one thing we need to talk about before we arrive at the bakery.” I open the passenger car door for her and say, “Where do we stand on red velvet? We’re both huge fans, but is it crazy enough to drive her nuts?”

The smallest of smirks pulls at her lips. “I don’t think so. We might have to ask for the cotton candy flavor.”

She steps up to the car, and I grab her hand to help her into her seat. For the briefest of moments, her eyes fall to our connected hands before they fall back on mine.

“That’s my girl,” I say. “Cotton candy, all day, every day.”

“AH, Breaker. I wasn’t sure you needed to be here with us during the cake testing as well,” The Beave says, her nose surprisingly stuck up in the air much more today.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be here for everything. Plus, it’s cake. Can’t miss a chance for some free samples.”

On the drive over, Lia and I denied everything from last night beautifully and instead, spoke about many, many, and I mean many cake flavors that could throw The Beave into an absolute fit. It was as if we found a topic that we could exploit and ran with it.

“Very well.” The Beave pulls her lightweight jacket that matches her skirt together. “Shall we head in?”

“We shall,” I say, which causes Lia to chuckle.

I hold the door open for them and then slide in behind Lia, where I poke her in the side and then whisper in her ear, “Don’t laugh at me, or The Beave will know we’re in cahoots.”

“Pretty sure it’s too late for that,” she says just as the baker greets us.

“Mrs. Beaver, thank you so much for joining us today.”

“Of course.” She gestures to Lia and says, “This is Ophelia, the bride, and this is her friend, Breaker Cane.”

“Hello, it’s very nice to meet you.”

The door opens behind us, and I turn around just in time to see Brian walk into the bakery. From the mere sight of his punchable face, my irritation rises. What the fuck is he doing here?

“Ah, there you are, sweetheart,” The Beave says.

“Brian,” Lia says, startled. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I was able to move a few meetings around. Couldn’t miss the cake testing.” He leans in, grabs her by the back of her neck, and kisses her on the lips. When he releases Lia, he turns toward me, pats me on the shoulder, and says, “Hey, man. I got it from here. You can take off.”

Uhhh . . .

I glance at Lia, hoping she doesn’t agree with this decision, and to my luck, she says, “No, Breaker can stay. I’d love to have his opinion still.”

Thank fuck for that.

“Okay, sure. The more, the merrier,” Brian says with a smile that reads fake.

That’s right, you motherfucker. As if he can just fucking waltz on in here and act like he’s the doting fiancé.

Sure, it’s a cake testing for his wedding, but he’s acting like he’s been at every meeting, and he hasn’t. The more, the merrier . . . he can fuck off with that.

“Well, then, why don’t you four take a seat, and I’ll get the samples ready for presentation? I’ll be out shortly. In the meantime, can I have my assistant grab anyone champagne?”

“Please,” The Beave says. “One for everyone.”

More like one for each hand, thanks.

I reach to pull out Lia’s chair for her, but Brian gives me the stink eye of all stink eyes, so I back off. Instead, I pull out my own chair and mentally thank myself for being so gentlemanly. The Beave sits next to me, Brian sits next to The Beave, and Lia sits between us like a happy little family.

Not uncomfortable at all.

“Now, I’ve informed the baker of our preference of flavors,” The Beave starts out with.

“What would those be?” I ask. “Because I don’t think you asked Lia.”

“I told her what Lia likes,” Brian says.

“Oh, and what did you say?” I question.

Brian straightens and says, “Vanilla bean with vanilla frosting.”

Ha, we fucking knew it.

“That’s not what she prefers,” I say as the hairs on the back of my neck rise, a dog fight about to break out. “If she has to suffer through something as drab as vanilla, then she prefers to pair it with a raspberry lemon curd. She also enjoys red velvet with cream cheese frosting, but the cake must have chocolate chips in it. If there are no chocolate chips, she wants nothing to do with red velvet. But her favorite flavor is lemon blueberry, which I’m sure is not an option you considered.”

Brian’s eyes narrow, and he turns to Lia. “You have been just fine with vanilla before.”

Lia looks back and forth between us. “Well, it’s not my first pick.”

“But a pick at that,” The Beave chimes in. “And since we will have over three thousand attendees, going with the most common flavor will obviously be the most beneficial choice.”

“Three thousand?” Lia asks, looking at The Beave, then Brian. “I thought we cut that list down.”

“We were going to,” Brian says, “but I spoke with Mother last night, and we think it’s best not to insult anyone.” Except your damn fiancée.

“Not insult anyone?” I step in. “How do you even know three thousand people? That seems absurd to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s not your wedding,” Brian shoots back. “Maybe when you’re finally able to get someone to fall in love with you and walk down the aisle instead of creeping on other men’s girls, you can choose how many people attend the wedding.”

“Hey,” Lia says. “Brian, he’s not creeping on anyone.”

“Now, now,” The Beave says, trying to talk us down, but my hands are clenching into fists under the table.

Where the fuck does this guy get off?

He doesn’t even know her favorite cake flavor, and he thinks he can mouth off to me?

Before I can respond, The Beave cuts in, “Brian and I had a long conversation about the wedding planning that I frankly thought was getting out of hand, and we agreed on some things last night.”

“How the hell could you have a conversation without Lia?” I ask, my anger rolling back my politeness.

“Pardon me?” The Beave asks. “Mr. Cane, it would do you a service not to swear at me.”

Yeah, I’m not taking this bullshit today.

“Mrs. Beaver, it would do you a service to treat Lia with some respect. In case you’ve forgotten, my brothers and I own this city, this state, this country, so unless you want your reputation to completely and utterly tank, you will tell Lia exactly why the plans you’ve already made are not satisfactory.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot Lia’s silent gape as she turns toward me.

I’m not fucking around today. Not after what Lia told me about Brian. Not after what I said to her last night.

Enough is enough. They aren’t going to push around my girl, not for one more goddamn second.

“Where do you get off threatening my mother like that?” Brian asks, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he’s about to flip it.

The Beave pats his arm. “Relax, darling, I can handle this.”

Poised and calm, The Beave presses her hands together and says, “As you are aware, this union was not my first choice for Brian—”

“What do you mean?” Lia asks, her eyes falling on Brian.

“Mother, that’s not true. You like Lia.”

“I do. I think you are a lovely girl, but if I had my way, Brian would marry someone with status, and unfortunately, that’s not the case here. And therefore, I am paying for a wedding that reflects our status, even though he’s marrying you. That is why we switched back to the church, took out the daisies, and invited the people we originally wanted to invite.”

Wow.

She can’t be fucking serious.

How can someone with an ounce of a conscience go behind a bride’s back and change everything about her wedding that she agreed upon?

I glance at Brian, waiting for him to say something, to stand up for Lia, but instead, he just sits there like the pitiful, pathetic man he is.

Looks like I’m going to have to stand up for her, prove to her that I’m the man she can rely on. I’m the man who deserves her hand. I’m the fucking man who can and WILL make her happy.

I go to open my mouth with a retaliation when Lia turns to Brian and says, “You allowed her to do that? It’s one thing to just sit there and allow her to insult me to my face about how I’m not the pedigree of woman she would prefer for you to marry, but to have a conversation with her last night, after we fought, and let her change everything about our wedding? Did you do that out of spite?”

“Okay, here are the samples,” the baker says, setting a tray in front of us, clearly not sensing the strained tension at the table as her assistant passes around the champagne. “We have as requested, the vanilla bean cake with vanilla frosting, the vanilla bean cake with chocolate frosting. The chocolate fudge cake with vanilla frosting, and the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.” She sets some forks down and says, “Enjoy,” before she takes off again.

When the baker is out of earshot, Brian says, “I didn’t do anything out of spite. My mother was consoling me after our fight, and we discussed how the wedding was stressing you and that we should just let Mother do the planning.”

Lia sits a little taller, her confidence growing. “The only reason the wedding planning is stressful is because we’re being forced to get married in four weeks, your mother is trying to take over, and no one seems to be listening to me besides Breaker.”

“Because Breaker wants nothing more than for our relationship to fail,” Brian says. Oh wow, look at that. We finally have something we can agree upon.

“He’s been nothing but supportive. He even gave me tips on how to give you a blow job . . . one you didn’t want.”

“Jesus, Mary,” The Beave says, clasping her hand over her chest as Brian stares me down. I just shrug my shoulders because honestly, what else can I do at this point? I lean back and take a sip of the bubbly while I enjoy the theatrics. “Can we show an ounce of decorum?”

“Why the hell are you talking to Breaker about our sex life?” Brian asks.

“What sex life?” Lia announces, and it takes everything in me not to laugh. “You barely even look at me when I’m naked.”

Babe, I would look at you naked every fucking chance I got. Then proceed to fuck you until you can’t take anymore.

“Ophelia, lower your voice,” The Beave chastises.

“Why? So people don’t hear that your son would rather spend his nights working on his computer than fucking me in bed?”

I’m pretty sure the gasp that escapes The Beave’s mouth can be heard three blocks away.

And the clutching of her pearls is the perfect addition to her outrage.

Oh, this is good.

This is really fucking good. I can’t hold back my smile or stop from wishing there to be more.

Keep it coming, Lia.

“Lia, enough,” Brian says. “That is a completely inappropriate way to talk to my mother.”

“But she can act like I’m a second-class citizen, and you have no problem with that? Don’t you see the issue here, Brian?”

I do. *mentally raises hand* I see it bright as day.

Speaking quietly and in an even tone, The Beave says, “Let’s all take a deep breath and focus on the cake.”

Lia completely ignores her and turns toward Brian. “You will always take her side, no matter what. She can say to my face how I don’t meet her standards, but because she’s so desperate to see you married, she’ll settle for me as a daughter-in-law. Do you understand how fucked up that is, Brian? Why would I want to enter a family who treats me like that? Why would I want to be with a man who allows his family to treat me like that?”

Brian’s eyes flit to his mom and then back at Lia. “Mother is right. I think we all need to take a deep breath.”

“I don’t need a deep breath,” Lia says. “I have never in my life seen anything more clearly.” She stands from the table and pulls her engagement ring off her ring finger and places it on the table.

Another expertly placed gasp by The Beave echoes through the bakery.

I want to slow clap, encourage this valiant behavior because, God Almighty, seeing Lia fired up like this makes my goddamn nipples hard.

“I’m done, Brian. I should have been done a while ago, but maybe I just needed the cold-hearted evidence about why I should be done.”

“What are you talking about?” Brian asks, panic setting in his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s panic from what his mother might say, from the image being portrayed of him, or if he truly is concerned about Lia. Sad that there are so many options to choose from.

“You treat me like I come third in your life, directly under work and your mother, and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t consider me their number one. You insult me when you say things like I’m having a mental crisis, that I never should have changed my hair, and that you hate my glasses. You hurt me when you don’t want to touch me at night, when you don’t want to even try something new. I think the only reason I’ve been hanging on for so long is because when I met you, you helped me through the grief of losing my parents. But now, I just wonder if that was out of the kindness of your heart, or if that was you trying to use the loss of them to get closer to me.”

“Lia, that is not true.”

She pushes the ring toward him. “I’m done. I’m done with everything. I’m done feeling like shit when you’re around. I’m done worrying if you’ll actually kiss me or not when you see me. I’m done asking myself if I’m good enough for you, good enough for your family. And I’m done dealing with your psychopath mother. I need more. I want more. And I sure as hell deserve more. Come on, Breaker.”

I stand from my chair, ready to be at her beck and call. But because I have manners, I first address the table before I leave. “Always a pleasure.”

I’m about to guide Lia out the door when she turns back around and says, “Also, the club is probably one of the ugliest places I’ve ever seen, and nothing about it is elitist other than trying to look elite.” She then reaches toward the table, palms the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and scoops it into her hand. “I’m taking this with me because it’s the only decent flavor on the platter.”

And then she turns and walks out the door, me trailing her with the biggest fucking smile on my face.

“HOLY SHIT,” I say as we reach my car. “Lia, I can’t fucking believe you did that.”

She’s shaking and pacing as she holds the cake in her palm. “Oh my God, oh my God . . . did I just say all of those things?”

I grip her shoulders, stopping her from moving, and bend at the waist to look her in the eyes. “You fucking did and, Jesus Christ, I’m so proud of you.”

“You are?” Her lip trembles, and I can see that the adrenaline is starting to wear off.

“Yes, Lia. That was so fucking amazing and well-deserved. Jesus, my nipples got hard in there listening to you.”

That makes her smile. “Hard nipples, really?” I thrust my chest out at her, and with her non-cake-filled hand, she runs her fingers over the hardened nub. “It is hard.”

“See. Hell, I’m so proud of you. How do you feel?”

She nods, her head bobbing lightly. “I feel . . . I feel good.” Her eyes connect with mine. “Free.”

And that makes me smile. I pick her up and twirl her around as I press my head close to hers while she holds the cake out.

“We need to celebrate.”

I set her down, and she holds the cake between us. “I have cake.”

“I think we need more than just cake, but yes, let’s eat.”

She lifts her hand to her mouth and takes a large bite before offering it to me. I second the bite and together, while standing in front of my car, we eat her stolen cake out of the palm of her hand.

After a few moments, she says, “I think I know what I want to do.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Grab some pizza for lunch, lots and lots of hard cider, go back to your place, and play Plunder.”

“That’s how you want to celebrate?”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better idea,” she says, meeting me once again with that beautiful smile.

“Then let’s eat some pizza and play Plunder.” I open the door for her and grab a few napkins from my glove compartment for her cake hand, and while I help her clean up, I ask, “Just want to make sure, are you happy? You just called off a wedding and broke up with Brian.”

Her eyes meet mine as she says, “I am. It was the right move, thanks for checking.”

“As long as you’re good, then let’s celebrate.”

“I’m good. Promise.”

HOLY FUCK. Holy fuck.

Holy.

Fuck!

I pace my bedroom as Lia gets changed at her apartment. After we left the bakery, we went to our favorite pizza place, ordered two large pizzas—one sausage with onions, the other pineapple and pepperoni—ran by the store for two twelve-packs of Angry Orchard, and then came straight home. She said she was going to take a quick rinse in the shower, because she felt gross after being in the bakery, and change.

Which leaves me here, staring at my phone, waiting for my brothers to text me back.

Finally, my phone dings, and I swipe at it to read the message.

JP: Wait, she broke up with him right there in the bakery, ring and all? Holy shit.

I type back in a fury just as my phone dings with another message, this one from Huxley.

Huxley: Wow. I have nothing to say other than wow.

Breaker: Yeah, tell me about it. I was in awe, and my nipples got hard.

JP: I appreciate a hard nipple on a man. Shows me that he registers with his emotions.

Huxley: You need help.

JP: Just telling it like it is.

Breaker: Can we not go on a tangent? I have minutes before she comes over, and I need to know what to do.

Huxley: What do you mean you need to know what to do? She just broke up with her fiancé and called her wedding off. You do nothing. You be a friend.

JP: Uh yeah, dude. Were you thinking about making a move? That’s fucking tacky as shit. Give her a second to mourn before you go sniffing around, letting her know you want to bone.

Breaker: First of all, I just don’t want to bone. Second of all, I’m already keeping my self-control on a short leash. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

Huxley: Don’t fucking do anything. Jesus, that would be terrible timing.

JP: Yeah. Real bad, man. What do you want to be, the rebound guy? Fuck, no. Give her a moment to figure it all out.

Breaker: Yeah . . . fuck, I think you’re right.

Huxley: Of course we are.

JP: Seriously, nothing else. You don’t want to ruin anything. Tread carefully, and when the time is right, strike!

Breaker: Okay . . . just a little bit longer, that’s all I have to keep telling myself. Oh shit, she just came over. Talk to you later.

I set my phone on my nightstand and then head out to the living room, where Lia hovers over the pizza boxes wearing a pair of black-and-green buffalo plaid flannel shorts and a white tank top that shows off an inch of her midriff. And her black lace bra is as visible as they come, making my mouth water.

She’s worn this outfit around me several times, but now, it feels like it’s my undoing.

I want to do so much to that outfit, to the woman wearing it.

I want to slip my hands under the crop top. I want to run my fingers along the lace. I want to drag those shorts down, revealing whatever she’s wearing underneath.

But the boys are right. I would be stupid if I attempted anything at this point. I need to keep things neutral. Friendly.

Platonic.

“I’m going to start with a slice of each. What about you?” she asks, holding one of my plates in her hand.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do the same. I’ll grab drinks.”

“I’ll meet you on the couch.” We purchased one pack of hard cider that was already chilled and put the other in the fridge. I grab two that are cold, some napkins, and walk over to the couch where I have already set up Plunder. Think if the games Risk and Battleship had a baby, it would be Plunder.

“Oh my God, can we just talk about that cake for a second and how dry it was? The Beave actually thought that was the best in town. No offense to the baker . . . but woof.”

I let out a low chuckle. “Are you going to require a dessert to make up for that? Because I can get something delivered. Anything for your heroism today. Taking down The Beave requires all the good things to come your way.”

“Hmm.” I hand her a drink, and she hands me my pizza. I rest the napkins between us. “You know, I’ve always believed donuts can be eaten at any time. Let’s get a dozen glazed jelly from Arnold’s.”

“Let me grab my phone. I’ll order.” I move back to the bedroom, grab my phone, and then pause when I see a text from Brian.

My stomach drops, and I wonder why the hell he’s trying to communicate with me. What would he have to say to me?

I should just delete it. Not even read it.

If only my head worked that way. Unfortunately, it doesn’t because curiosity gets the better of me.

Brian: I know you’re with Lia. She’s not answering my messages. I know we haven’t been on the best of terms, but can you please have her call me?

“Ha!” I laugh out loud. “Okay, sure, Brian.” I delete his text message and move back toward the living room.

In his fucking dreams.

“ARRRRRRRRR, ye land lubber, hand over ye resources,” Lia says while holding out her hand and twiddling her fingers.

“But if you take the last of my rum, I won’t have anything. Do you really want to end the game like that?” I ask on a hiccup. “Taking a man’s rum?”

“I said hand it over.” She jabs my side with the fake hook she brought over from her apartment.

I hold my hands up in defeat. “Fine. Take my rum, but I hope you burn in hell.”

She holds up the rum in absolute victory and hops up on the couch, parading around.

I lean back and watch. “Victory is mine once again,” she coos right before flopping back down on the couch and tossing her hook to the side. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I glance at the already eight empty cans between us and say, “Maybe some water. If we keep this up, we will be passing out at eight.”

“Is that a problem? Copious amounts of sleep are good for the body, you know?”

“Very true. Fine, grab me another. I’ll clean up the board.”

“Clearing the evidence of my victory already? You’re such a poor sport.”

“Lia, I just lost three times. It is five at night, and I have nothing to show for myself today other than cheering you on as you told The Beave off, demolishing cake from your hand, and eating six slices of pizza.”

“Seems like you accomplished a lot to me.”

“Not as much as you.”

She playfully fluffs her hair and says, “Well, no one can accomplish as much as I did. I palmed a cake and stormed out of a bakery.”

I chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my head.”

She grabs us both a drink, and I abandon cleaning up the game when she hands me a cider. We crack them open together and take long swigs.

“You know, I was thinking about your list of things you wanted to accomplish before you got married.”

“What about it?” she asks.

“I think you should keep doing it. Clearly, it’s given you this beautiful confidence to take charge of your life, and it would be a shame if you stopped. Plus, you checked off another one of the things on your list.”

“You remember what’s on my list?”

“Lia, I remember everything about you,” I say right before I list her items off. “Do something that makes you feel pretty. Well, you did that with your hair and shopping. Not that you needed it, but I can see that you love it, and I love it too.” Her cheeks blush. “The second was create a circle of trust. Well, you have me, and I think you bonded with Kelsey, Lottie, and Myla the other day as well as starting a knitting club. That’s a great start.”

“It is. I really like them. They’re fun.”

“The third one was to spend a day saying yes. You just name the time and place, and I’ll be right there by your side the whole time.”

“Let me catch up on the work I’ve put off, and then we’ll make a day of it.” She takes a sip of her drink and pulls her legs into her chest.

“The fourth was to stand up for yourself. Well, you can check that one off because damn, Lia, you took the world by storm today, and it was so fucking amazing to watch. I was in awe.”

“Thank you. It felt good.” She looks off to the side and says, “I can’t believe he’d just sit there and let her say those things about me. It just shows that maybe he wasn’t really in love with me, and I don’t think I was in love with him. At least not recently. It’s hard to be in love with someone when they don’t treat you like they love you. They can say the words, like he did, but he didn’t prove it. He didn’t act on his love. It’s about the little things, you know? The things you don’t even notice until they’re done. Like . . . like stocking my favorite coffee because you know I can’t drink anything else. Brian never did that.”

“I’m not that douche. And I wouldn’t want you drinking anything else.” I wink.

She smiles softly. “I think my choice today also coincides with my fifth task: following my heart. It’s scary to break off an engagement because you don’t want to disappoint people, or hurt feelings, but I just felt it, you know? After speaking with the girls, things felt off, not right. And then when Brian didn’t even defend me, I knew it was over.”

“I’m glad you listened to yourself.”

She rests her head against the couch and asks, “Did you hate him?”

I finish the rest of my drink, chugging that one pretty hard. “Brian? Yes. I did. With the fury of a thousand men.”

“Wait, you hated him that much?” she asks.

“Uh . . . yeah, Lia. The only reason I tried to get along with him was for you. Not because I thought we could be friends or that I thought he was a good guy. It was all for you.”

Her eyes connect with mine, and she wets her lips. I wish I knew what she was thinking, if I could read what was going on in her mind, because it would make this so much easier. I wouldn’t be as scared of making a move . . . when the time is right of course.

“You should have told me.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t want to influence you. My feelings on the matter should never have been taken into consideration.”

“But, Breaker, if I had married Brian, wouldn’t that have been like one of your brothers marrying someone you hated?” Not even close. But I do get her drift.

“Yes and no.” This is where I could go for it and explain what loving her means to me, but it’s too soon. I know that. I could give her a taste, perhaps. “Lia, if I have learned anything through your brief and torrid engagement with Brian, it’s this. I love you too much to be happy to love you less.”

“What does that mean?” She looks so confused and forlorn.

“It means that the only way I’ll be happy if you marry someone else is if you are one hundred percent committed to him and him alone. If you were marrying me, no fucking way could I share you with another man, best friend or not. And I wouldn’t expect your husband to love you any less than that.” Because if you married me, I would be both. Best friend and husband. Period.

She glances away, and I can only hope that something clicks inside that beautiful brain of hers. I know now that I could never give her up. That’s what love is.