I lie my head on her chest, wrapping my arms around and under her body, gently grip her to me. “I need you, baby. I love you so much.”
There is a small cough, and I remember the other man in the room. The other man in her life. A man that, at this point in time, needs to take his leave, to step out of her life and allow me to take my rightful place. I release her gently and straighten, staring at her closed eyes, and squeeze her hand before turning to face her other man.
Seeing Paul’s face pulls the final nail from the coffin that is my sanity. He stands tall, taller than I remember, his chest strong, eyes fierce, blazing with the same passion I feel behind mine. I have seen his photo, Dana’s letters occasionally containing a news article or magazine clipping. But I don’t a photo to know who he grew into. I have memorized every line of his face since he was a child. Admired his athletic build, his skill in the water, his easy smile and infectious laugh. He was always our golden child, the one who talked his way out of trouble, rescued stray animals, and waltzed through life with an ease—just like Madison. The thought hits me hard, the similarities terrifying in their possibilities.
I freeze, examine the look in his eyes, try to pierce the possibilities together, try to understand exactly what his presence means and pray to God that it is not what it appears. “Why are you here?”
“For the same reason you are.” He nods toward the bed, toward the woman who I’ve spent the last two years thinking of as my own. I knew there was another man. Hell, I’m the reason she settled down with one. I didn’t want her f**king half the town, going home with strangers. I wanted to know that she had a steady relationship, had someone to go home to, someone to watch out for her and care for her in my absence. I just never thought of that person having thoughts and feelings for her, having ownership of her. I’ve always pushed that reality to the side, work taking center stage, everything else flowing, the well-oiled machine not one I needed to examine too closely. Realizing that he is her other man... Paul falls in love with baby kittens. I don’t have to look in his eyes to know that he is head over heels for her. Jesus Christ, I’ve f**ked to the thought of her with him!
My legs have lost all strength, my knees physically threatening to buckle. I stagger a few steps to the side, collapsing into the closest chair and close my eyes. There is a vibration in my pocket—my phone—and I reach in and hold the button on the side, depressing it until it vibrates and is off. “How long?” the words come out a whisper and I clear my throat.
“The doctor should be back in about an hour with some results. We will know more then.” I crack open my eyes to see him sit in a chair opposite me, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes looking at her, and then at me.
“No.” My voice is stronger, though it still cracks as I speak. “How long have you been f**king her?” I open my eyes and look into his.
PAUL
My brother has changed so much. At twenty years old he was already serious, dedicated to school when I was partying, his brow furrowed over grades and projections, current events, and our family’s finances. Worry. Worry. Worry. At a point in his life when he should have been partying and f**king. Enjoying life. But he is even worse now. He has fully evolved into a rock hard frame of intensity. When he opens his eyes and stares at me, it is like being in the path of a train, frozen to the spot, unable to move even though the ground is trembling underfoot.
“A year and a half... almost two. We met in Santa Monica.”
“So this... this is coincidence?” His voice is hard, unbelieving, and it is through his petulant tone that I fully believe it is solely happenstance.
I had worked through the scenario before he arrived, turning over the realization of his identity in my head, trying to figure out the pieces, and what my part in this twisted game was. There were three possibilities. One: He had sent Madd to me—some f**ked up situation that reeked of anything but the level-headed Stewart I knew. Two: Madd had sought out two brothers, for reasons known only to her, a deceitful game that would only end in disaster. Also completely opposite of the woman I love. Three: It is all a coincidence. A f**ked up, someone-upstairs-is-screwing-with-you, coincidence.
“It’s either coincidence or she somehow orchestrated this situation.” I glance toward her bed. “And I don’t think she would do that.”
He closes his eyes, drops his head back against the wall. “No. She wouldn’t. Plus, I’m the one who pushed her to take a boyfriend.”
“Why?” It is a question I have always wondered. Why a man would send someone like Madison out into the world, not concerned with the possibility of losing her. It is a question I have always contained, not wanting to rock the boat with Madd, and a little scared at what the answer might be.
He sighs, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. “I assume you know how she is, with sex. From the beginning, I couldn’t give her the time she needed. For sex, for a relationship. She deserved a full-time boyfriend and she knew it. Refused to be exclusive with me. And I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wanted her as a constant in my life, but I wanted her to be safe, and happy, and loved. And... f**k. Satisfied. I didn’t want her out f**king around. And I didn’t want her out of my life.” He pushes away from the wall with his shoulder and meets my gaze. “I thought if she had a man, someone to spend her days and nights with—someone who understood that I was there, that I had a place in her life... it would keep her happy and give me a spot in her life. Give our relationship some security.”
I frown. “Without you... I could have had a normal relationship with her. I could have made her happy.” My voice strengthens as I speak, anger flowing through my veins. “I could have been everything she needed.”
He laughs, a short bark that only pisses me off more. “Paul, you’re a kid. You float through life in some imaginary world in which you do what you love and are lucky enough, so far, to make enough to live off of. What are you going to do when you can’t surf anymore? How are you going to provide for her? At some point in time you have to join the real world. And the real world changes people. The real world takes your cheery little smile and turns you in a dark cloud of reality. It drowns you in bills and expectations and adds piece after piece of reality onto your shoulders until you are struggling under the weight of it all.” He stares at me, his features tight, face angry, and I want nothing more than to punch him, hard enough to crush bones and draw blood, but his words stop me. Words filled with as much anger as conviction. “You can’t be everything she needs. You are a f**k. Probably a good one. And you are fun. You’ve done a good job of keeping her company. But you can’t be her everything. You are barely your own everything. And you will fail her. Just like you failed Jennifer. Fuck—you were probably with her when this happened. Were you?” He stands, stepping closer to me, his eyes dark, his jaw tight. “Were you there when she drowned? Did you just let her die, like you did with Jennifer? How many women who I love are you going to hurt with that smile? With that casual attitude that lets everything important slip through the cracks?”