Page 21 of The Most Perfect Wrong

“So, you think Brad’s cheating on me?” I finally ask, hoping she’ll tell me I’m wrong, that I’m just overreacting.

“I’m sure that’s not the case, Coop. I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have. Brad’s been great… and he proposed. You two are getting married, and I’m really happy for you.”

“Do you not like Brad… like, at all?” I ask, needing some kind of validation.

She lets out a long sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like him… it’s just that he’s been the source of some of the greatest pain in your life. It’s hard for me to forgive him for that, and even harder to look past it. I don’t know him like you do, but I do know and love you… I just want you to be truly happy, you know?”

Her words settle like shards of glass in an open wound. She’s right—he’s hurt me, over and over. No matter how good things seem now or how supportive he’s been lately, the doubts creep in like shadows. I hate that she’s planted them there.

“Um, okay…” I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to cry. “God, I don’t know what to do with that, Case. Your opinion means more to me than anyone’s. Brad’s going to be your brother-in-law someday—myhusband—and you don’t like him. You think he’s still cheating?” But even as I say the wordsbrother-in-lawandhusband, a knot tightens in my stomach. The words feel hollow, like I’m repeating a mantra. It’s like deep down, I know it’s never going to happen. And worse, I don’t know if it’s something I even want anymore.

Suddenly, Mason starts crying in the background. “Oh, shit! Shoot.” Casey cries out as she drops the phone, and my screen shifts to show a blur of carpet. “I’ve got to go, Coop. Mason just bumped his head on the table. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She’s gone before I can even say goodbye.Great. This is just fucking fantastic. What am I supposed to do with that conversation? My mind immediately spirals. Is he cheating on me again? How would I even know?

No. I shake my head, forcing myself to stop. I’m not going to go there. If I suspect something, then I’ll deal with it. But right now, I have no reason to believe Brad is cheating. We’ve beengetting along, connecting… I’m not going to assume it’s just him covering up guilt. I refuse to believe that.

I head to the kitchen to grab a snack before leaving for tennis. I play in a women’s league on Saturday afternoons—something I’ve done my whole adult life, and I love it.

“Hey, Coop?” Brad calls from the office.

I cross the living room and pop my head into his office. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Who were you on the phone with?”

“Casey,” I reply casually.

“Oh. And how is she?” he asks, glancing up from his computer.

“She’s good. Had to cut the call short—Mason bumped his head and was screaming in the background. But she’s fine.”

“That’s good. Have you had lunch?” he asks.

“No, I was just about to grab a small snack before heading out for tennis. Want me to bring you something?”

“That’d be great, if you don’t mind.” He looks up at me with a soft smile. “Come here,” he says, his tone soft.

I walk over to him, and he spins his office chair to face me, pulling me between his legs. His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me closer as he presses his head into my chest, his hands gripping my ass. “You’re so sexy,” he murmurs, lifting his head to meet my gaze. I lean down to kiss him.

“Mmm,” he grunts softly. “Do you have time for a little fun?”

I smile, playing along. “Hmm. Let me think…” I tease him, letting the moment linger, kissing him slowly. “I guess I could spare a few minutes,” I finally say with a grin.

Without hesitation, he knocks my knees out from under me as he stands, scooping me up in the process. He carries me into our bedroom, lays me down gently on the bed, and pulls his shirt off.

His mouth meets mine, and the kiss is so good that I melt into it, losing myself as his hands roam over me, touching me in all the ways I crave. I push away the lingering echo of Casey’s voice in the back of my mind.This is real.We’re good. There’s no way he’s cheating on me again. Not when we’re this good together.

Chapter 8

RYAN

“Ten, seven, one. Game point,” Leo calls out, his tone easy but competitive. He nails the serve, driving it deep into the court. We rally a few times, each hit getting faster and more precise. When the ball comes to me, I step forward for the return, aiming low and landing it just inside the sideline, barely brushing the edge of the kitchen. Michael darts after it, stretching out, but he misses by a hair. The ball bounces out, and just like that, Leo and I win the game.

We try to play pickleball every other Sunday, while Michael and Leo’s wives are at their girls brunch. Leo technically isn’t married, but he might as well be. He’s in a serious relationship with his girlfriend, and they’ve got a baby together. We all call her his wife.

When the weather’s nice we play outside, but it’s early November in Chicago. This morning was brutally cold for this time of year, so we’re at Elemental Hub.

We tap paddles over the net, offering the usual “good game” before grabbing our water bottles and towels. Sweat drips down my face as I wipe it away, my arms feeling heavy. Five games in, and I’m spent.

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