“I’m interested in your sister,” I say to Drew after he takes the last sip of his second beer. It’s Friday night, a few days after my pool adventure with Lucy; and yep, I did bring Drew out for drinks, buy him wings to butter him up, and then get him a little bit buzzed in hopes that he would not knock my teeth out when I announced I had feelings for Lucy. I also brought him to a crowded sports bar so there would be witnesses.
He blinks with wide eyes, reminding me of Lucy a little, and then slowly sets down his empty glass. “Now the large basket of wings makes sense. You probably should have thrown in some jalapeño poppers too.”
I tap my finger on the table, debating flagging down the waitress. By the slightly grim look marring Drew’s brow, though, I get the feeling cheese-filled peppers aren’t going to be my saving grace tonight.
I wait for him to speak, to acknowledge what I said about Lucy, but instead, he turns his eyes up to the TV and is suddenly so engrossed in a hockey game you’d think he was an actual fan. Which he’s not. Drew is not into sports, but apparently, tonight he’s the biggest Preds fan you’ve ever seen.
He throws his hands up and groans when they miss a shot, and I blink at him. “You don’t even know what the little black thing they’re fighting over on the ice is called,” I say, narrowing my eyes and daring to call his bluff.
He swings his gaze to me and smirks. “Puck off, Cooper.”
Sport puns—this is bad. Uncharted territory, even. “Okay, can we stop pretending we like hockey and just have it out? You’re pissed I like your sister. Just say it.”
Drew’s jaw ticks, but he shakes his head. “Not pissed.” He says it in the same tone a woman uses when she says I’m fine. She’s never fine, men, and you’re going to sleep on the couch that night.
I stare at Drew, waiting for more, but he just seals up his lips and leans back in his chair to aim his attention at the TV again. I’m going to buy him a shirt that says World’s Biggest Hockey Fan.
“That’s it? You’re not going to talk about it with me? Just going to pout and watch your new favorite sport?”
He cuts his eyes to me. “Really? You think it’s a good idea to poke me until I fight you?”
“Yeah. I’d rather you fight me than ignore me for sports. I never thought I’d sympathize with a married woman so much, but tonight has changed me.”
Drew looks like he wants to smile but has already set his face to frown mode and won’t budge. “Look, I’m not upset, because I know I can trust you…”
I let out a breath I’ve been holding all night. I gotta say, I didn’t see him—
“…to ignore your feelings and stay away from Lucy like we discussed.” Oh. Well, that was a letdown. “I appreciate you owning up to it, though, telling it to me straight. You’re a good friend, Coop.”
If that isn’t some manipulative crap, I don’t know what is.
He reaches across the table and slaps me on the back. It jars my body a little, and I feel lost. He’s just masterfully steered this conversation in exactly the direction he wants it to go, leaving no room for argument. He’s brilliant, actually, because he almost managed to make me think I’m on his side on this, like I really never intended to go after Lucy. This way, we both get to be the good guy and leave here as jolly best friends. So jolly.
Drew shifts the conversation and tells me that, this Monday, he’ll be headed to Costa Rica for three weeks on a volunteer medical trip. He’s been doing these once a year since he graduated med school, and he spends grueling hours providing obstetric and gynecological care for women who otherwise might not receive it. It’s amazing and yet another reason why I like Drew and care about his opinion. He’s a good guy.
I shift in my chair, deciding to press the subject one more time. “Right. I hope it’s a good trip. But…just for the sake of conversation…it wouldn’t be so terrible if I dated Lucy, right?”
He scoffs and looks past me to flag down our waitress, holding up his empty glass. “It would be the absolute worst thing in the world for her.”
My eyebrows rise. “The worst? Wow. That’s…bad.”
The waitress walks up, and Drew orders another beer, asking me if I want one too, but I decline because I have a policy to only drink when I’m happy. And I don’t feel very happy anymore.
Once the waitress walks away, Drew leans his elbows on the table and looks at me. “Listen, even though it makes us sound dumb to admit it, we’re best friends. I’d braid you a bracelet if I knew how. But really, all that means is I’ve seen too much to be comfortable with you dating my sister. You and I both know you’re incapable of a committed relationship, and Lucy needs someone who is going to commit to her and Levi for the rest of their lives. She deserves that.”
Drew is looking at me like we’re on the same team, like I’m going to nod my head and adamantly agree that I’m a player and will never be the family man Lucy needs. Well, guess what? I’m not nodding, because I don’t agree. In fact, I feel a little angry.
Problem is, I don’t have a right to be angry at Drew. I mean, I do in that he’s being a crappy friend to me by shutting me down right away, but it’s not entirely his fault. I was never honest with him, never told him about how long I was with Janie before I proposed—how I wanted to be married.
And now, I’m sick of dating around. I can’t keep going like that anymore. It was a phase I grew out of quickly, and now I just feel lonely. Of course, Drew knows none of this because I never thought he really needed to know. We always keep our conversations pretty surface level, which is why I’m annoyed that he isn’t even willing to talk this out with me. Ask me any questions. Nothing.
If he did, I’d tell him everything—about Janie, and how much I missed her at first, and why I had to move away. I’d even tell him about how, a couple of weeks ago (before Lucy even came into town), our friend Molly called me up at ten o’clock, seeing if I wanted to come over to her place and hang out. We both knew what that meant, though, so I told her I was pretty tired and just wanted to chill. I invited her over to watch a movie with me, and she declined, so I watched The Holiday by myself.
I want to tell Drew all of this. I want to tell him I want to watch The Holiday with Lucy. Explain that I don’t know how to interact with kids, but I’m ready to learn. I would never string Lucy along, especially given her circumstances in life. I wouldn’t be bringing this up tonight if I wasn’t serious about my intentions.
But I don’t tell him any of that, because at this point, it will sound like I’m being defensive, and no one wants to have to convince another person of their good qualities. If he doesn’t think I’m good enough for Lucy, maybe I’m not…or maybe I just need to convince him I can be.
I’m not ready to tell Drew everything about me yet, but I think I should start to be more honest, at least little by little. “I get it,” I say, leaning back in my chair and trying to find the right words. “Maybe I’m not right for Lucy, but I do think I’m ready to change some stuff in my life…pursue a serious relationship with someone.”
“That’s great, man. Just don’t let Lucy be your test subject.”
Test subject. Those words feel like acid on my tongue as I repeat them to myself on my drive home from the bar. Test subject. Is that really what he thinks I would do? It’s clear that Drew has a different opinion of me than I’ve had of myself. I don’t know; part of me wants to be ticked at him, but another part wonders if I’d react any differently if I had a sister and the roles were reversed. Nope. I’d probably be giving him crap too.
Lucy is officially off limits. I know I need to get her out of my head, but I can’t.
And as I pull up to my house and park in the driveway, a queasy feeling settles into my stomach at the thought of not seeing her again. She’s unlike any other woman I’ve ever known, and I feel a pull to her that I don’t know how to deny. What if Drew is wrong and Lucy is the one for me that everyone talks about? My soul mate or whatever.
Shoot, even worse, my body is having a physical reaction to the thought of not seeing her again. I suddenly feel sick, and achy, and…okay, so maybe this is not entirely due to Lucy? What are the odds the burger I had at the bar gave me food poisoning?
Pretty high, considering the way I spend the next hour of my life. And because no one should be judged harshly for decisions they make on their deathbed, I don’t want to hear any crap about the fact that I call Lucy, hoping she’ll come over and take care of me.
