“And what do you dislike about her?” My mom sighs.
“The way she plans every little thing in her life. How she won’t pursue her dreams because she shackled herself to an idea of making her dad happy at her sacrifice. At least she did.”
“You do realize that you’re about to do the same thing by signing your life to McCoy at the expense of losing your best friend?”
“I’ve been trying to work out a deal.” My hands painfully clench in front of me.
My dad shakes his head. “Then you don’t deserve her. Because if I had to choose between your mother and something I really fucking wanted, I would have chosen your mother, hands down.”
“Why the hell don’t I deserve her?”
My mom takes over. “Besides the fact that you can’t admit you love her even though you clearly do? Is there a bigger reason needed?”
Wait, what? “How do you know that’s what I feel? You’re not me.”
“Nope, but I gave birth to you, so I’d say it’s pretty close. Friends don’t notice those details. No friend wants to make love to his girl under a desert sky because he feels like it. You got pissed at her for falling in love with someone who loves her back. And, Liam, no friend can do fuck buddies without risking love. You both were screwed from the very beginning; she only realized it sooner than you.” My mom looks at me with sad eyes and a frown.
“Fuck me.”
If someone asked me a week ago if I like surprises, I would’ve said hell yes. But now, looking at my latest surprise across my hotel room, I could live without any more.
See, after Sophie kicked my ass to the curb, I didn’t think things could get worse. With my brother showing up with a six-pack of beer and a carry-on suitcase, I’m not so sure.
Shocked is an understatement to describe how I feel. My brother stares at me, his blue eyes assessing me like those damn sudoku puzzles he loves so much. Leave it to my parents to call in reinforcements less than twenty-four hours after our call.
“So, as interesting as your visit is, I’m not sure why you’re here.” I break the awkward silence.
Lukas crosses his leg over his other knee. “You’re not? Come on, you’ve always been smart. No need to sell yourself short.”
“Well, I’m guessing your impromptu appearance has more to do with Sophie than scoring tickets to the final Prix.”
“Bingo. It’s time we let it all out. You and me, plus our old friends.” He plucks a beer from the cardboard box and passes it to me.
The iconic sound of bottle tops falling to the ground accompanies our silence. We stare at each other for a few minutes, with me draining half my beer in a few tugs.
Lukas taps his fingers against his thigh. “The first time I was intimate with someone else after Johanna’s death, I cried.”
Holy shit. This is how Lukas wants to start? I thought he would lead me in easy with useless chatter and reminiscing about the old days.
He doesn’t give me room to intervene, thank fuck, because I have no clue how to respond to his confession. “It was only a few months ago. I broke out in sobs in the middle of sex, and it was the most embarrassing thing. But it was also the most human I had felt after so damn long. It was like my heart was breaking while fusing together again, and I could do nothing to ease the ache. I spent years avoiding Johanna, only to have her for less than a decade. The pain her sudden death left behind was torture. But I put on my brave face and faced the world for my daughters because they deserve a father who would help fight their battles. Parenthood does that to you.”
“I’m so sorry.” I swallow back the lump in my throat, barely able to conjure up words.
“I’m not telling you this to feel guilty. I’m sharing my story because you need to understand. Even though I felt like shit for being with someone else, I needed to do it. I had been living for my daughters, thrusting myself into both parenting roles while ignoring my basic needs. I forgot to live for myself. Every day I woke up ready to make it the best day of my girls’ lives while denying myself any intimacy or closure. I had been so fucking lonely, and I hated myself for being angry at Johanna for leaving me.”
“Sometimes, I hate her. And then I hate that I feel that way, but I can’t help it.” The words pass my lips in a whisper.
Lukas shakes his head. “I think part of you hates her when you really want to hate yourself.”
How can one sentence feel like Lukas dragged an invisible knife down my chest, spilling my secrets?