“Jesus.”
“I know…”
“I assume Beau has no idea.”
“He’s still not really talking to me, but I’ll be honest…after things started up with Charlotte, I haven’t been calling him as much.”
He watches me while I keep my eyes averted, letting this whole shitshow run through my mind again. How did I let this happen? I tried to be so careful. I set strict rules for myself, but she has me breaking all of them.
When I finally look up at him, there’s more sympathy on his face than judgment. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“I don’t think anything is wrong with you.”
“But…”
“But…” He shifts in his seat. “I can tell you really like her. Maybe more than like?”
I’m not going to answer that. If I put that thought into words, I’m risking so much. Letting myself believe this thing with Charlotte is more than muddled emotions and hot-as-sin sex makes everything a lot more serious than I intended.
I rub my hand across my forehead. “I do like her. I mean…you’ve seen her.”
He nods, unspoken words clearly on his lips.
“What’s that look for?”
After a moment of deliberation, he lets out a sigh and leans forward. “Emerson, I’ve known you for over a decade. I’ve seen you with a lot of girls. All of them were beautiful. This is different.”
“I know it is, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” I can’t seem to hide the subtle frustration in my voice. He’s pointing out the obvious but failing to see the problem. It’s not as simple as to just admit that I have serious feelings for Charlotte because, no matter what, I can’t have her.
“Why not?”
I have to give my friend a minute of grace because he’s not yet a father, so he has no idea what it feels like. This torment, struggling with the idea of losing my son forever.
“Because no matter what I do, I lose one of them. What kind of father would I be if I choose…”
The rest of the sentence hangs on my lips as I let out a frustrated sound, and my friend doesn’t have a response. We sit in tense silence for another moment before he says, “Just my opinion, so take it or leave it…” He holds his hands up as he continues, “But Beau is an adult, Emerson. He’s not a kid anymore. He might be mad at you, but it’s not something you can’t work out if he was to actually speak to you. I think you’re a great father to want to give him so much, but you seem actually happy with this girl, and I’d hate to see you throw that away.”
He’s right. I know that, but it’s just not that easy.
“And the longer you let this secret go on, the harder it will be to tell him.”
“I know.”
“But don’t take too much advice from me. I have neither a girlfriend nor a child, so I could be the world’s biggest idiot, but I do know you. And I like you a lot more since she’s come around.”
I let out a small laugh. “Thanks,” I mutter as he stands and claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Whatever you choose, I’m here.”
I nod at him, the gnawing ball of anxiety in my gut growing even more from this conversation.
“How was the convention?” I ask, as Charlotte curls up on my chest on the couch upstairs. Some true crime show plays quietly in the background.
“It was a blast. Sophie was in heaven.”
“Good,” I reply, kissing her cheek. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really. We grabbed something to eat after it closed. What did you do all day?”
“Missed you.” Inwardly, I wince. I really have to keep shit like this to myself.
“I missed you too,” she replies, without looking at me. There’s a growing tension between us. This unspoken argument about Beau and our future keeps expanding, pushing aside all of the elation we felt a week ago when all of this was new and fun. Now, I’m afraid it’s all too real. And I want it all too much.
As soon as she got here, we climbed on the couch together. Usually we’d be coming by now, her screaming my name as I fuck her on various surfaces of my house, but neither of us reached for the other’s clothes. Yet.
“You’re good with your sister,” I mumble, kissing her temple. I love the way she wraps her arms around me and how snugly she fits against my chest. I love that no matter how we’re feeling, she’s comfortable touching me first, instead of waiting for me to make the move.