Page 41 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I tell him, "You know, this feels nice. Just…us. No money or gym talk, just us.” I snuggle into the crook of his arm and let him pet my hair.

He whispers into my ear, “Are you stalling?”

“Mmm, and you already know me so well,” I joke as he pushes me away from him. He catches me before I crash into the wall, and I dissolve into laughter in his arms.

As I crack eggs and pour milk and mix batter, in the back of my head two thoughts compete with one another: one, that I can’t wait to shower with Chris, to shampoo his hair and touch his warm body, and two, that I need to confront Julie.

After breakfast is completed and pancakes are eaten, we head to Chris’ place to shower and clean up.

Once Chris drops me back off at my office/home once more, I immediately begin to sleuth, even as I know I shouldn’t.

I sit in my desk chair and open my laptop, chewing on my thumbnail as I type in my password.

I look behind my shoulder to make absolutely certain that Chris really did drop me off and leave, my guilt manifesting as anxiety.

And then I do the thing I shouldn’t: I type Julie’s name into a search engine and look to see what social media profiles come up.

Last night when Chris came by and seemed so upset by Julie’s arrival and by the knowledge of Noodle’s departure, his words kept ringing in my ears: that Julie had abandoned Noodle.

Chris has been the epitome of a positive force, someone who enters your life and instantly makes you feel seen and understood.

I wonder if I could track down Noodle for him.And it’s definitely not because I think that I’d be more appealing to him if I could. More appealing than Julie. I’m definitely over that fear.

With trembling hands, I click on a profile that looks like her picture in a tiny little circle. It unfurls itself to reveal squares upon squares of pictures of Julie at her best: Julie up against a brick wall, Julie looking back and laughing, Julie doing yoga on a mountain top.

That last one in particular really stings – she sure has got the aesthetic of a fit, successful young woman down. A part of me wonders that, if I scroll, will I find pictures from five years ago?

Not what I’m doing right now, though. A few swift taps bring me to her latest post — a casual invitation to a brunch with friends.

The irony is not lost on me. While she sips mimosas with her companions, I stalk her life from afar, alone in my office, the lights turned off, the harsh light of the screen in my eyes.

Against my better judgment, I find myself making a spontaneous decision. I need answers, closure for Chris. He deserves that.

Without giving it a second thought, I grab my keys, Lucy’s leash, and head out the door.

The drive to the brunch spot is a blur, my thoughts consumed by the impending confrontation.

What will I say to Julie? How will she react? Is this crazy? Am I crazy? What would Chris do if he knew?

I push aside my doubts, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead.

As I step into the bustling restaurant, the smell of coffee and chatter fills the air, mingling with the palpable tension coursing through my veins. Scanning the crowd, it doesn't take long to spot Julie, her familiar silhouette seated at a table near the window.

She sits straight up, as though someone is watching her and judging her posture. Her hair falls in perfect waves down her back, and she has a book open on the table as she waits for her friends. I can’t remember the last time I had time to read a book.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I make my way over to her, my heart pounding in my chest. She looks up as I approach, her expression shifting from surprise to guarded apprehension.

"Anna," she greets me, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "What are you doing here?" I slide into the seat across from her, and she lifts her chin, telling me, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m meeting friends here.”

“I know. And the name is ‘Hannah’,” I tell her, nodding at a waitress holding up a pitcher of water questioningly at me.

She walks over and places a glass down in front of me. She pours water into the glass, smiling, unaware of the tension between Julie and me, thinking there’s friendship, thinking we’re here for a giddy brunch like the rest of her patrons. Adjusting her glasses, she smiles at me and says, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No,” I tell her, scrunching my nose at Julie. “I’m leaving soon. Thank you, though.”

“Aw, who’s this?”

The server’s eyes are on Lucy and her hands shoot out to pet her shiny black coat. Her fingers fiddle with Lucy’s dog tag and she reads the name.

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