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"But that wouldn’t work. She’s my best friend. Suppose we wanted to have dinner together as a couple?"
"I’m not sure I would want that, knowing my brother is pining away for her while she’s married to someone else."
"We can talk about this later. I have a few appointments this morning," she said, brushing the conversation aside for now.
"Didn’t you have one earlier?" I asked, remembering her usual schedule.
"I canceled because I was worried about you."
"It wasn’t necessary. I’ll be fine," I assured her, though I appreciated the gesture more than she knew.
Erika cupped my face, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip before she rose from the bed to head to the shower. I watched her go, then turned my attention back to the breakfast she’d made. I dove into the meal, savoring each bite as I turned on the television to watch the news. There was a brief report about my brother’s return, but nothing major—just enough to remind me that everything had changed.
The next few days blurred together in a whirlwind of appointments, negotiations, and family gatherings. Even with the chaos, the fact that Michael was back lingered in my mind. His story—unbelievable, yet somehow real—played on a loop, leaving me equal parts amazed and concerned. Tonight, I’d be having dinner with him, and though the idea of catching up after so long felt right, something about leaving Erika alone on a Friday night gnawed at me.
“You look nice,” Erika’s voice broke through my thoughts, drawing my attention.
I glanced at her, still fumbling with the knot of my purple tie. “Thanks,” I replied, focusing on the mirror. “Will you be alright alone tonight?”
Erika scoffed, a playful glint in her eyes. “Geez, Elliott, you think I’ve never spent a Friday night on my own? Anyway, I have a date.”
The words hit me like a slap. I spun around, my heart lurching in my chest. There she was, leaning against the doorjamb of my closet, a smirk playing on her lips.
“A date?” I echoed, my voice sharper than intended. “With who?”
She shrugged, her tone nonchalant. “I have a whole phone full of contacts.”
“Contacts?” I repeated, my scowl deepening. “What contacts?”
“Guys,” she replied with a casual shrug, her eyes daring me to challenge her.
Something flared up inside me—possessiveness, jealousy, maybe both. I took a step toward her, but Erika didn’t budge. Her stance was firm, unyielding, as if she was daring me to come closer. Another step, and I was almost chest to chest with her, our eyes locking in a silent battle. I searched her gaze, those gorgeous blue eyes that always seemed to hold a mystery I was desperate to unravel.
“Who, Erika?” I demanded, my voice low, almost a growl. “Which guys?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a softness there, a hint of amusement. “You’re so stupid, Elliott. You’re the only guy I’m interested in.”
“Then tell me who you’re seeing tonight.”
“Morgan,” she said, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “We’re having dinner out.”
“And after?” I pressed, my jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.
“Maybe dancing at Surge,” she answered, her tone light, as if this were all a game.
“Not without me,” I stated, my voice hard.
Erika raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging. “You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you,” I said, my hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I don’t trust the multitude of men who want what I have.”
“I’m not a possession,” she shot back, her voice firm.
“But you’re mine,” I replied, my tone possessive, undeniable.
For a moment, the air between us crackled with tension. Then, with a swift motion, Erika grasped my tie and yanked me down to her level, her lips crashing into mine. The kiss was intense, charged with the kind of heat that always left me wanting more.
My body responded instantly, a familiar ache building as her tongue traced the seam of my lips, coaxing them open. My hands tangled in her long blonde hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until I could feel every curve of her body against mine.
