Page 96 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I’m not in marketing. He’ll have to make those choices himself. All I can help him with is making sure he does it all by the book.

I look into the differences between doing his taxes for a business in a few other possible countries and doing his taxes for a business in another state and open up a new document to annotate and highlight the differences between those options.

My phone buzzes and I see the screen flash with Chris’ name, so I swipe on it and answer as I read my emails and answer the people whose questions are simple. “Hey, are you on your way?”

“I was just thinking – what if instead of punishing Sarah, we let her work off her debt by working for me for free?”

My head spins at the suggestion. “Yeah, so as your CPA, I would have to advise against that.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, and I’m not a lawyer, but it seems like that could be considered blackmail or extortion or something, right?”

“Then let’s ask a lawyer.”

I laugh dryly. “Chris, no lawyer is going to tell you hire someone who stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from you and just pay them less this time. She owes you a couple of luxury cars worth of money. Let’s just let the authorities take care of it. Okay? Seriously.”

“Well, here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll send her to open the new location. We won’t put her in charge of the finances again, ofcourse, she lost that right. But we’ll put her in charge of the new location’s opening, and we just don’t give her a salary.”

“The salary that would have been, what, $50,000? It’s just not enough to be worth it, Chris,” I tell him, utterly confused about his insistence that he do this ridiculous thing.

Quietly, he mutters, “She called me, Hannah. She begged me to do this, said she was sorry about what she’d done and couldn’t take the guilt of it.”

I feel bile rise in my throat at the idea of Sarah working for him again, getting another chance to betray him and hurt him. I just want him to focus on people that won’t let him down and things that fulfill him.

“And you told her yes?”

“I told her I would think about it and talk to you, but I wanted to say yes,” he corrects me, his voice an embarrassed murmur.

“Well, you can’t, Chris. I say that as your CPA, your girlfriend, and the mother of your children. You cannot let this woman do this to you. Why would you even want to?”

I put my phone on speaker and look for what snacks are left in the kitchen. I find a string cheese and peel open the plastic as Chris mans the silence expertly, breathing lightly into the phone.

“Because. I don’t know. It just seems like there’s no room for bitterness in this new life.”

I laugh. “Then forgive her. Don’t put her in the driver’s seat. Listen, let me tell you what I think is happening. You have a lot of relationships that are tenuous right now, and it’s got you thinking of the past. But instead of facing the person that you really need to face, you’re forgiving the person who’s easier to forgive.”

“Who’s the person I really need to face then?”

I can’t believe he really needs me to say it, but his denial is so thick that I’m not sure he can honestly see it for himself. The name comes out like a heavy sigh: “Julie.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Christopher

I walk through the farmer’s market by myself while I try to clear my head.

Even if Hannah is right, I’m not sure I have it in me to face that particular fear. So, I guess by her logic, that means she is right.

I try to imagine calling Julie and telling her how she hurt me, how she affected my relationships and ruined my ability to trust, but when I do I picture her doing that thing where she holds back a superior smile and I want to gag.

A part of me feels like admitting the pain to her would be a failure on my part; that it would be handing her the win and telling her that she got the better of me.

There’s that bitterness that Hannah was talking about.

I stop at the booth of the young farmer, and a relieved smile breaks out across his face. “Hey, there! So, are you a papa?”

I throw back my head and laugh. “Oh, man.” I lean against his booth, looking at his vegetables and fruits with all the focus of a professional chef. “I am. Well, at least I am going to be, anyway,” I admit, looking up at him from underneath my eyebrows.

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