Page 51 of Marrying His Brother

I’m sweaty and struggling to hold the downward dog, my mind swirling as I try to find the right words to explain my decision to Lisa.

“Because I knew how he’d react,” I say. “He would have gotten mad with Daniel and I don’t want to make things worse between them and between us.”

Lisa straightens up, shifting into a warrior pose effortlessly. “Maybe, but keeping it a secret doesn’t exactly help either. You’re just adding more tension.”

I know she’s right, but admitting that makes me feel even more tangled up. “I’m not trying to hide things,” I say, switching to a different pose, my muscles protesting. “I just I don’t know how to bring it up without making everything a hundred times more awkward. Andrew already has enough on his plate.”

“And yet, you’re still going to see Daniel,” Lisa points out, her tone light but pointed. “Don’t you think Andrew deserves to know why?”

I push myself up to stand, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. “It’s not like I want to have dinner with Daniel. But I need him to back off.”

“Or you need closure,” Lisa says, her eyes sharp, like she’s seeing right through me. “Maybe that’s why you’re doing this. Because part of you needs to close that chapter, once and for all.”

“Maybe,” I admit softly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m married to Andrew now, and I need to handle this without causing more drama.”

Lisa moves into a seated position, crossing her legs and looking at me intently. “Emily, you’re overthinking this. If you’re meeting Daniel to clear things up, then just be honest about it. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

I nod. “The plan is to make it clear to Daniel that I’m not interested.” Class is almost over.

“Tell Andrew, because he needs to know. If you don’t, it’s just going to look worse when he finds out.”

I sigh, rolling up my mat, trying to absorb her advice. “I’ll think about it,” I say, even though I already know she’s right.

As we walk out of the studio, the late evening sun feels warm against my skin, but it does little to ease the cold knot of anxiety in my chest.

Andrew is not home and relief surges through me. I’d rather tell him about the dinner with Daniel after, not before.

The dogs rush up to me, their tails wagging, and I can’t help but smile as I give them a quick pat before nudging them toward the backyard.

“Out you go,” I say, watching them scramble through the door. I wait until they’re outside, chasing each other around, before I head upstairs to get ready.

I take a quick shower and dry off while glancing at the clock. After rifling through my closet, I settle on a sleek, dark blue dress.

It’s fitted, with clean lines and a modest neckline—elegant but not too flashy, the kind of dress you’d wear to a business meeting. Perfect. I need Daniel to see that this isn’t a date, that I’m here to set boundaries, not rekindle anything.

I slip on a pair of black heels, brush out my hair, and add a touch of makeup, just enough to feel polished. A quick glance in the mirror tells me I look the part—calm, composed, completely in control. Even if I don’t feel it inside.

Grabbing my purse, I head out the door, the cool evening air brushing against my skin as I make my way to the car.

The drive to the restaurant is quick, but my thoughts keep looping back to Andrew. Part of me wishes it was him I was meeting tonight, that we could sit down and have a real conversation, without the awkwardness and distance that’s been hanging between us lately.

When I arrive at the restaurant, one of the trendiest spots in town, the valet takes my keys, and I make my way inside. The ambiance is elegant with low lighting and soft music that fills the space.

The hostess greets me with a smile and leads me through the dimly lit room, past tables of well-dressed couples and groups, to where Daniel is already waiting.

He stands when he sees me, a smile spreading across his face, but there’s something off about him. His tie is slightly askew, and there’s a faint redness around his eyes. I’ve seen that look before—Daniel’s been drinking.

“Emily,” he says warmly, stepping forward like he’s going to hug me. I keep my distance, nodding politely instead.

“Hey,” I say, taking the seat across from him.

He signals to the waiter, who appears almost instantly. “A bottle of your finest red, please.”

“I’m fine with water,” I say quickly, catching the waiter’s eye. Daniel glances at me, and his smile falters just a bit.

As the waiter walks away, Daniel leans back, studying me with a lazy grin. “You look beautiful tonight.”

I ignore the compliment, folding my hands in my lap. “Daniel, we need to talk.”

---