WES

It was exactly the kind of day I’d wanted—for Abby, for Hannah, for my parents, for myself. We took Abby out in the canoe, we built a sand castle complete with a moat and keep, we walked along the beach looking for fossils and sea glass. We talked. We laughed. We remembered Drew with funny stories and favorite memories. It was the first time since he’d died that we had all been together without being overwhelmed by sadness.

After dinner, I helped Abby find a stick to roast marshmallows. My mother tried to talk us into using metal skewers she’d brought down to the beach, but I insisted we had to do it the real way. We stood side by side holding our sticks with the marshmallows over the flames, watching them get warm and brown and bubbly. I like mine nearly charred, but I left my first one over the fire too long and it plopped into the ashes, which made Abby giggle uncontrollably.

And Hannah—I hoped she felt as happy as she looked. She had a smile on her face all afternoon, and I saw no trace of the tension I’d sensed in her this morning. In complete contrast, she seemed relaxed and contented, joking with my father, tolerating my mother’s criticisms-disguised-as-compliments (“My goodness, look how thin you are in that swimsuit! I can’t hardly see your shadow!”), and giving me a grateful look when I went back for seconds of her potato salad and told my dad he had to try it. (He did, and enjoyed it, much to my mother’s chagrin.) She’d even stopped playing with her wedding ring. Everything about the day was perfect.

There was only one problem.

My heart beat faster every time I looked at her. My stomach tightened every time she came near me. My breath hitched every time I caught the scent of her skin—a potent mix of Coppertone and waffles. I was nearly drunk on it by day’s end.

I wasn’t imagining my body’s responses to her, and by the time the sun went down I was finally forced to admit it had nothing to do with how much we both loved or missed Drew, and everything to do with the fact that I was attracted to her, plain and simple. I always had been.

Other truths I’d buried threatened to surface.

She’s part of the reason I stayed away.

I measure every woman I meet against her, and no one ever comes close.

What if? What if? What if?

I tried hard to ignore my feelings. Deny them. Convince myself there was nothing wrong with appreciating a beautiful woman.

Yeah, but you don’t just want to appreciate her, do you? asked my conscience, which seemed to have a direct line of communication with my dick. You want to—

Don’t even think it.

I thought it.

I wanted to touch her. Kiss her. Know what it was like to be inside her. Feel her hands on my body. Hear her soft moans and loud cries and make her come over and over again.

You’re an asshole.

God. I was an asshole. In no universe were these feelings about my brother’s wife okay. They’d never been okay. But what could I do? Tell her to put her cover-up back on because the sight of her slender curves in a bathing suit was too tempting? Tell her to stop giggling at my stupid jokes and stories because the sound of her laughter was too sweet? Tell her to stop looking at me that way when I took off my shirt because I wasn’t my brother no matter how much I looked like him? I wasn’t an idiot. I knew it wasn’t me she was seeing.

No matter how much I wished it was.

Look, you can’t turn back time. You made your choice, and they made theirs. And you know what? If you had to do it all over again, you’d make the same decision. You’d step aside for him, you always did.

I frowned into the fire.

“Hey, you.” Hannah nudged me with her bare foot. She and I were sitting next to each other in chairs by the dwindling bonfire while Abby played nearby in the sand. My parents had just gone up to the house. “Everything okay?”

I sat up straighter, took a drink of my scotch. I’d poured some over ice when it became clear my stupid feelings for her had not gone away, no matter how much time and distance I’d put between us. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Fine, huh? I give that answer a lot too.”

I braved a glance at her, and her expression was shrewd. Then she nudged me again with her foot. “I’m on to you, pal.”

For fuck’s sake, did she have to touch me? She was making things worse. “Sometimes I’m just quiet.”

“I remember that about you.” She tipped up her wine glass, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the hollow at the base of her throat. “But actually, I think you’ve been very talkative today.”

“Have I?”

“Yes. And you’re an amazing listener. I appreciate it.”

Not if you knew what I was thinking. “Any time.”

A minute or two went by. The sun was sinking fast behind the trees, deepening the shadows on the beach. Abby began to sing softly, backed by the rhythmic shush of waves on the shore. “Can I tell you something?” Hannah asked.

“Of course.”

“Lots of people have told me, ‘You’re not alone.’ But I haven’t felt that way until you said those words to me today.”

I looked at her and vowed I would never violate the trust she placed in me. “I meant them.”

She smiled at me as she stood up. “I better get Abby home and in the tub. But Wes, you were right about today. Thank you. I had such a good time.”

“I’m glad.”

Then she did something that shocked me—she reached out and slowly slid her fingers through my hair.

I couldn’t speak. I wasn’t even sure I could breathe.

She smiled. “You have sand in your hair.” A moment later, she was walking away from me. “Come on, Abs. Let’s get the toys put away. Time to go home.”

I was still sitting there in disbelief when I heard my mother’s voice. I hadn’t even seen her come down the steps and I was looking right at them.

“Hannah, dear,” she called, making her way toward them, “I was thinking earlier, why doesn’t Abby just stay the night here? I’ve got a room all set up for her, and she hardly ever uses it.”

Hannah hesitated. “I have the sitter coming in the morning.” Then she glanced at me. “But I guess I could give her the day off. Sure. She can stay.”

Good girl. I felt proud of her for letting go of the reins a little.

“Perfect!” My mom clapped her hands together. “I’ll keep her until you’re done with work. You can just pick her up here.”

“What about clothes for tomorrow?”

“Oh, I have plenty of things here. You know how I love to shop for her. I always wanted a little girl and ended up with two boys!”

“I can hear you, Mom.” Oh good, I could still speak.

She turned to me and stuck her hands on her hips. “Now I’m not saying my boys weren’t everything to me, but it is fun to have Abby to shop for. I’d shop for your kids too if you had some,” she scolded.

“I was telling him earlier Abby needs some cousins.” Hannah turned and gave me a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Make that happen already, why don’t you?”

I grimaced and took another swallow of scotch. Just what I needed—Hannah and my mother united in their nagging at me to procreate.

“Abby,” my mother said, “let’s go up and you can take a bath in the big tub in my bathroom. Would you like that?”

“Yes.” The little girl jumped to her feet, brushing sand off her hands and knees.

“And then you can put on your princess nightgown and I’ll read you a story if you’re not worn slap out.”

“I’ll get the toys put away down here. Do you need help getting her into the bath?” Hannah asked.

My mother dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand and headed for the steps, Abby in tow. “Not at all.”

While Hannah texted her sitter, I started gathering up buckets and shovels and adding them to the big plastic laundry basket my mother used to keep them all corralled. Hannah joined me a couple minutes later, scooping up brightly-colored molds of fish and mermaids and castle walls. If she felt strange about what she’d done a few minutes ago, she didn’t let on. Maybe I was making more of the gesture than was warranted. Maybe I’d even imagined it.

“Are you proud of me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed dramatically. “I decided today after our chat that I should try harder with Lenore. I know she means well.”

“Good. Get everything settled with your sitter?”

“Yes. All set. She’s probably glad to have the day off. It’s supposed to be beautiful again tomorrow, although it looks like it might rain tonight.” She glanced at the sky.

“If you want to hang out on the beach after work when you come to get Abby, feel free.” But I sort of hoped she wouldn’t.

“Thanks. Maybe I will.”

When the toys were all in the bin, I took a bucket out again and headed for the lake to fill it up. “You can go up if you want. I’m just going to put out the fire.”

But she didn’t go up. She stood and watched as I doused the remains of the fire, her arms crossed over her chest. I wished I’d put my shirt back on. I felt her eyes on me through the smoke. They wandered over my shoulders and chest and stomach, but when they moved lower than that, she caught herself and looked down at her feet, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Hannah, you’re killing me. Don’t look at me that way. You don’t really mean it. When the smoke clears, I’m not who you want. I’m not him.

Neither of us spoke. The sky above us darkened unexpectedly, and thunder rolled softly in the distance.

You shouldn’t be alone with her like this.

“Sounds like a storm. You should go up,” I told her.

“I’ll wait with you. I don’t mind.”

“Hannah.” My voice was stern. “Go up.”

A pause. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Quickly, she gathered her things—bag, towel, flip flops—and disappeared up the steps.

I exhaled.

* * *

Later, as I lay in bed feeling despicable and shitty, listening to a summer rain drum against the roof, I replayed the memory of her hand in my hair a thousand times. The slow drag of her fingers, the warmth in her eyes, the hushed voice. I thought about how she’d looked at me by the fire and the dangerous way it made me feel. I wish I knew what she’d been thinking.

She was thinking about her husband, jerkoff. Remember him? Your brother? Maybe she was even pretending you were him.

That had to be it. I couldn’t even blame her. But God, I wished things were different.

Rolling to my back, I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes.

There she was. Smiling and soft and sweet and reaching for me. Me. Finding ease in my kiss. Seeking pleasure in my body. Whispering my name in the dark.

My cock started to stiffen, and I suppressed the urge to take it in my hand.

How many nights had I refused to let that fantasy take root in my mind because it was so wrong? A hundred? A thousand? It’s still wrong. Nothing has changed. She doesn’t belong to you. She never has, and she never will.

I had to get over this. But how? Avoid seeing her? That wouldn’t work. Earlier today I’d campaigned to see each other more often, and now she agreed with me.

Maybe it would go away on its own. Maybe I simply had to get used to being around her again, desensitize myself to her charms. Maybe spending time with her would be sort of like allergy shots. Immunotherapy for the heart.

And other parts of my body that like to come alive around her.

Groaning, I rolled onto my side, punched my pillow a few times, and went to sleep.