Page 16 of Accidental Baby With My Brother's Best Friend

“Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel that way.”

“Calm down and tell me what happened?”

I sniffle quietly, taking another long drink from my glass. “Well…Dean’s around.”

Christie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She’s always had a thing for my brother but she’s always denied it whenever I brought it up. Dean on his part rarely noticed her. He’s never around enough to do so. But he certainly wasn’t oblivious to her emotions for him.

“And?”

“We were having a family dinner and I’ll admit this time, it was my fault. I started the argument but—” I trail off, biting the inside of my lip. “I just wanted Dean to know how bad of a mother she’s been, but now I think I only got him angry because of it.”

“That’s okay.” She says, hugging me tightly. “It’s understandable. You’ve been through so much at your mom’s hands and you wanted to let it all out.”

Leave it to Christie to have the right words to comfort me even when it’s glaringly obvious that I’m the culprit.

“Well, look how that’s turned out. I ruined a perfect dinner for Dean. Even with the surprise he had planned for me.” I shake my head, frustrated. “I feel so stupid. I shouldn’t have—“

“Shhh... it’s all right. Don’t blame yourself. It’s okay to be mad.”

The tears come pouring out again. Christie wipes them away with gentle fingers. “Shh shh. Come here.” She draws me back into her side, and we stay like that for a while, rocking back and forth.

After a while, I manage to control my breathing again. I sniffle once more and wipe away the remaining tears. I take a deep breath. Between hiccups and sniffles, I manage to mention the job interview that Dean spoke about.

“That’s good news.” Christie nods, smiling gently at me. “You’ll ace it. I’m certain.”

"I don't think I can do it." I whisper, my voice fragile and wavering. "What if I mess up? What if I'm not good enough?"

Christie's gaze locks with mine, her eyes filled with unwavering belief. “If anyone’s good enough, it’s you. I’m certain of it.”

I swallow hard, nodding weakly. Maybe she’s right, but I just can’t shake off the dread building in my gut. “But—”

“No buts. You’ve got this babe.” She squeezes my hand. “Now let’s go get you dressed. I’ve got somewhere I’ve been dying to take you to.”

The excitement in her eyes is almost contagious. I can’t help but grin at her enthusiasm, my spirits lifting considerably as I watch her.

“Where?”

“No questions.”

She yanks me off the couch and drags me along, practically dragging me down the hall. I laugh at her antics and follow without complaint, the last lingering sadness washing away.

Chapter8

Liam

Today has to be the most gloomy day ever. The skies are gray as can be, and the temperature is so cold it’s like being at a funeral for all but the dead. It’s miserable. My art gallery is almost empty and devoid of life save for myself and a few staff.

The art gallery, typically an inspiring haven, feels unusually stifling today. Its pristine white walls, adorned with masterpieces, are flanked by grand crystal chandeliers overhead, casting a faint, almost ghostly light. Even the marble floor looks dreary, despite the polished shine that coats its surface.

My fingers absentmindedly graze the deep blue upholstery of the couch, a stark contrast to the gallery's opulence. The usual buzz of art enthusiasts has vanished, replaced by an eerie silence that only adds to the gloomy atmosphere that’s enveloped the gallery like a cloak.

The artwork on the walls, once vibrant and evocative, now appears lifeless. The chandeliers, once resplendent, emit a subdued radiance, mirroring my melancholy.

I have a coffee in hand as I sit on my sofa in the break room, staring out of the window overlooking the city. With each passing second, I can slowly feel the despair setting in, weighing me down even further than it already was.Someone remind me why I made the decision to leave home this morning…anyone?

A sigh escapes my lips as I put my cup down on the coffee table beside me and lean back into the couch, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I could really do with a spark to light up this gloomy atmosphere.

The universe must love me or something because it provides me with exactly what I need. The entrance door bursts open, the sound of it causing a jolt to course through my body. My eyes fly open in shock as I turn my head towards the front entrance. And right there is the universe’s response to my plea. Chestnut hair flying in every direction, covering her face as she crouches, one hand clutching her chest while the other holds the doorknob. She looks like she’s just ran a marathon, with sweat or raindrops– or both– pouring down her forehead, her shirt clinging onto her body revealing more than enough cleavage to make me drool.

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