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Isaiah clears his throat. “We know you two shared a room when we were in Saranac.”
“What’s your point?” I say calmly, but a burst of panic sets in. This shouldn’t be worthy of discussion with them. It was never uncommon for us to share a room or a bed from time to time if the situation called for it.
Dane goes next. “Wheels’ wife said she saw you two out at dinner the other night.”
“So? People eat together.”
I think I know what night he’s talking about. We were at a trendy restaurant for a mocktail happy hour that turned into apps and dinner, and when the Cuban music started playing, we had to dance.
You know, normal friend stuff.
Well…normal for us.
Dane then pulls his phone from his pocket and shows me a picture from Jay’s social media account. “What about this?” he accuses.
It’s a series of photos from the ABBA cover band concert we all attended last week. But the specific picture Jonah shows me is of Cora in Marco’s arms smiling at the camera, pink and purple lights cast over their bodies and illuminate their surroundings. Jay’s focus was to take a picture of his husband and wife, but in the background is a picture of me and Rafael in the same exact pose. His big arms are wrapped around my shoulders and his chin rests on top of my head. We were swaying to the music, entranced by the performers.
I don’t blame Jay for posting that picture. In fact, he asked for permission to post them before doing so. We approved the pictures because, well, we didn’t see anything wrong with it. That’s us. That’s the normal level of affection we’ve always shown each other.
But as I study it under the lens that I think my brothers are, my knees go a little weak and my gut drops. Can they see it? Can they see the unrequited feelings? Can they see how I’ve let Rafael use me like an unacknowledged girlfriend all these years?
I’ve let him play pretend with our relationship for as long as I can remember because I’m weak for him and if I ever called him on it, I’d expose us. I’d expose the part of Rafael he’s worked to keep locked away from fleeting partners. I’d expose that I’ve known all along what he’s been doing, and that I’ve encouraged it. I’ve leaned hard into it with sex, decorating the house, and the intimate conversations about our teenage crushes—it’s all led here.
I’ve allowed this to happen and blatantly ignored the inevitable destruction of my heart. I did this before he got me pregnant, and now I’ve amplified it.
Goddammit.
I try to hide my fear and shame from them before shrugging, “It was just a concert.”
“You look like you’re in love,” Isaiah says bluntly.
“It’s the lighting,” I smile weakly.
“Shut up, it is not,” Jonah finally interjects with an eye roll.
It’s my turn to cross my arms. “Are you guys going to get to the point?”
“Yeah!” Jonah says, then turns to Dane. “You tell her.”
“Jesus, dude,” he mutters with a shake of his head and then asks me, “Why aren’t you getting married?”
Okay, that’s not exactly where I thought he was going with this interrogation, but my cheeks heat regardless. My gaze darts away. “Because people who are just friends don’t get married,” I say quietly.
“Cut the shit, Ang,” Isaiah groans. “Listen, I don’t like the idea of you and Raf as a couple any more than them,” he snarls with a hooked thumb pointing to Dane and Jonah. “But that’s only because we see him and Joaquín as our bonus brothers.”
Dane winces. “Well…”
Isaiah ignores him and continues. “But are you really going to stand here and lie to us that something isn’t happening between you two?”
I am far from admitting the truth to these three. I don’t owe them anything. The only people who know about the true arrangement Raf and I have are Cora, Marco, and Jay, and it’s going to stay that way.
“Nothing is happening, guys,” I smile in an attempt to deflect.
“Oh okay,” Jonah says in a mocking tone. “Let’s pretend nothing’s happening. Sure. Irregardless—”
“That’s not a word,” I mutter.
“—you guys should get married anyway. For the kids.”
