Page 121 of Winning Brynn

Leo’s apartment—well, my apartmentnow too, I guess—is rich with the scent of wood and earth, an aroma that, somewhere along the way, I’ve grown to associate with home. Even Isabella’s floral perfume isn’t strong enough to dilute it.

A week has passed since my minor freak-out that led to Leo’s declaration of love. A week of soft kisses stolen between bouts of anxiety, the knowledge that we need to tell my brother about our relationship ticking away at us like a doomsday clock. Another week of Isabella working hard to build a connection with Salem.

There’s been some progress on that front, though not a huge amount. Issy seems a little more relaxed around her daughter now, though there’s a distance to her gaze that lingers every time I see her.

It’s there now, as she leans back into the plush cushions of the couch. “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh?” I look up from my spot on the rug, legs spread with Salem sitting between them as she smashes her fist into the keys of a toy piano I now regret buying for her.

Issy rubs her hands together then squeezes them between her knees. “I kissed Alex.”

The shock of her statement makes me jolt.

She gnaws on the corner of her thumbnail, leaving it lingering by her mouth when she continues, “That’s not strictly true, actually. Itriedto kiss Alex. He pushed me away.”

“Dude.” I blink at her in astonishment. “Why are you telling me this? That’s your business.”

“I don’t know. We’re friends. I just thought you should know.”

“The less I know about my brother’s sex life, the better. Frankly, the idea of him kissing anyone gives me a rash.”

“But it’s weird, though, right?”

I can’t help it. Laughter bubbles from the depths of my lungs before exploding so hysterically it startles Salem.

Issy frowns. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m fucking your baby daddy. I don’t think it gets much weirder than that.”

“You’re so direct sometimes, you know that?”

She doesn’t say it as a criticism, more as a stunned observation. She’s known me long enough now that my bluntness shouldn’t be a surprise to her, but I guess it hits differently when the situation is as complicated as ours is.

I shrug. “It’s more efficient.”

“You really don’t care?”

“No.” I truly don’t. “I’m not my brother's keeper. I don’t consider it my responsibility to dictate who he can or cannot sleep with. I’m a little surprised, though. I didn’t realize you liked him that way.”

But then again, she’s been staying with him for the last few weeks. And I know as well as anyone what forced proximity can do to two single, objectively attractive individuals.

“I don’t.” She sits back, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her face on them with dejection. “I mean, he’s hot, sure, even with the man bun, but it wasn’t like that.” She rolls her eyes when I stick my finger in my mouth and pretend to vomit. “It was last week. The day we took Salem to the playground. We’d had that chat about how I’m struggling with this new mom thing, and even though you helped with that, I don’t know… It’s pathetic, but I guess I was just feeling sad.”

My heart sinks for her. I knew she’d been struggling, but I truly thought our conversation last week had made a difference. I see now that I was being naïve.

Truth is, as hard as I try to empathize with Issy’s situation, it’s impossible for me to understand exactly how she’s feeling. It doesn’t help that I still haven’t completely forgiven her for abandoning Salem the way she did, no matter her reasoning for it. That, mixed with the jealousy I’m constantly trying to smother, on top of knowing that Leo is still wildly uncomfortable with her presence, makes it damn hard to remain impartial all the time.

I’m only human, after all.

But I try. God, do I try to put it all aside for the sake of giving Salem a real chance to have a mother. When all is said and done, it’s her that will have to live with the consequences of the decisions made by the adults in her life, which is why, when Issy’s face begins to crumble and tears well in her eyes, I’m at her side within seconds. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Salem watches me go, frowning before picking up her toy piano and crawling to sit at my feet. Issy’s gaze flicks to her, thick with guilt and sorrow, before settling on her own hands crossed tightly in her lap. “I’m scared.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m scared I’m getting this all wrong.”

“That’s literally how every mom feels every second of the day. We talked about this, remember? You just have to give it time to—”

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