Page 76 of Lost and Lassoed

“When?” Emmy snapped.

“Soon,” I said, which was probably true. I hadn’t known whether there would really be something to tell, but then my dad had a heart attack and I cried in Gus’s truck and things changed.

Emmy blinked slowly. “Just so we’re abundantly clear—you are”—she gagged a little bit—“sleeping with my brother?”

“I thought Luke Brooks would’ve fucked that gag reflex right out of you by now,” I quipped.

“Not the time, Ted,” Emmy said, holding up her palm.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“So,” she said after a second.

“So, what?”

“Are you sleeping with my brother?” she asked.

I folded my arms. “I don’t like this,” I said.

“Me either,” Emmy responded. “It’s not fun being on the other side of the interrogation, is it?”

“No,” I said, feeling chastised. “And yes. To the other thing.”

Emmy gagged again, and I had to bite back a smile. I felt bad that she’d found out this way, but honestly, watching her reaction was entertaining.

“So is it like a forced proximity thing? Or is it like a hate-sex thing?”

That rubbed me the wrong way—like those were the only two reasons that Gus and I could ever enjoy each other’s company. The energy shifted. I wasn’t entertained anymore. I was mad.

“It’s neither of those things,” I said, shaking my head in annoyance, my tone no longer playful and lighthearted.

“So what is it?” Emmy asked as she in turn folded her arms.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s not just a sex thing or a convenience thing. It’s more than that. It’s just…more, okay?”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “You guys don’t even like each other.”

“You’re one to talk, Emmy,” I said, my voice having more bite than I’d intended. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, but we just kind of work, okay?”

“I didn’t even know being in a relationship was something you wanted, Teddy. You’ve never brought it up. I think it’s valid that I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this.”

“It’s not that you’re having trouble,” I said. “It’s that you automatically assumed that because it’s me that’s doing this, it means that Gus and I are temporary—a cheap knock-off of a relationship instead of something real and meaningful.” It was both of those things, and I hated that Emmy seemed already to have written it off.

“I just—” she started and then paused again. “I just mean that Gus has told me a million times that he’s fine on his own. And you—” Another pause. A sigh. “I love you so deeply, Teddy. You’ve never taken a relationship seriously. I don’t even know if you’ve ever actually been in one, and I don’t know if my brother is the best place to start.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” I asked. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. This wasn’t how I’d thought this would go. Granted, I’d thought that I might have a little bit more time to think about it, that I wouldn’t have been forced into spilling the beans before I’d talked to Gus about it, but still, I didn’t like where this was going.

“How did you expect me to react, Teddy?”

“Honestly,” I said, “I thought you’d be happy for me—like I’ve been for you for the past few years. I didn’t expect you to throw a party in my honor, but damn, Em, I really thought you’d give me the same energy that I gave you when you fell inlove with your brother’s best friend.” I was getting more confident now—more angry, too. “But I guess this is just another example of how our relationship has changed.”

“What are you talking about?”

I took a deep breath; I guessed now was as good a time as any. “I’ve been having a hard time lately,” I said, and Emmy tilted her head, looking at me like she already knew that. “And it wasn’t just the job or the sewing machine or whatever. I’ve been feeling stagnant and sad and struggling with the fact that our friendship is different now.”

“No, it isn’t,” Emmy said. She was feeling defensive too. I saw it in her tense shoulders and narrowed eyes.

“Yes, it is,” I said. “And I don’t think it’s an inherently bad thing. I think it’s what happens when people grow up and end up in different places—physically or otherwise. You and I are in different stages of life, Emmy. And it might not be obvious to you, but you don’t need me the same way you used to. You’re getting married. Brooks should be the person you feel the most comfortable with, the most safe and secure with. But I don’t have that. I have you, and you have someone else.

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