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“I know they won’t have an issue with it,” I countered quickly. “They’ll probably be happy I gave up my man-whore status.”
“Dad’s always been worried you’d knock someone up,” Michael noted, a hint of a smile in his voice.
“That hasn’t happened. I’m careful.”
He caught my gaze. “But it can happen. What do you plan to do about Erika?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed, running a hand through my hair, the tension building with every word.
Michael shifted the conversation. “How was the wedding?”
“Do you really want to know?” I shot back, knowing full well he didn’t.
“I don’t,” he admitted. “Did you give Morgan the letter?”
The look on my brother’s face was gut wrenching and my heart hurt for him. I could just imagine what he wrote in that letter.
“Of course. She didn’t read it in my presence.”
“I’m happy for her,” he said, but I could hear the lie in his voice.
I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. “No, you’re not,” I said, calling him out. “How can you be?”
“I love her, and I’d never wish hurt upon her,” he said quietly. “If she can’t be mine, at least she has someone who loves her.”
“But you wish that someone was you,” I insisted.
“Maybe one day,” he said, his voice tinged with hope and despair.
“Will you date now?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“I haven’t decided. My heart is wounded.”
“I’m right there with you,” I admitted, the weight of my own problems pressing down on me. “Getting back to my problem, what should I do?”
“Give her space,” he urged, the wisdom of experience in his tone.
“I have another issue,” I confessed, hesitating before I spoke. “She slept over last night and said the name Foster in her sleep. What do you think it means?”
“Probably nothing,” Michael replied, but there was a slight pause before he spoke.
“I hope not,” I said, my mind racing with possibilities.
“Did you ask?” he inquired.
“When I mentioned the name, she looked like she’d seen a ghost,” I admitted, the memory of her pale face flashing in my mind.
“If she didn’t offer any information, leave it alone,” he advised, but his words didn’t sit right with me.
I scratched the stubble on my chin, leaning back in my chair as frustration bubbled up. “How can you say that?” I demanded, the tension in my voice impossible to ignore.
“You want to chase her away? Obviously if she wanted to tell you, she would’ve.”
My phone buzzed with a second caller, and I told my brother I had to go.
“Take care.”
I hung up with Michael and answered the incoming call. It was Mrs. Ducane asking if I could set up an appointment to show her some apartments with rental property potential. I was in no mood for her, but I remained pleasant until I finished the phone call. Once I hung up, I let out a string of curses.
