Page 103 of My Brother's Best Friends

For a moment I pause and inhale the bright scent of freshly pressed oranges. A phantom note of champagne drifts in, and suddenly I’m back in that hot tub on a snowy Swedish balcony, mountains looming and solemn pines standing guard.

And I can almost feel my fingers brushing through her hair…

“How’s Kellan?” Oscar asks.

“No better than you or me. It’s taking us longer than I’d hoped to shake this off. That’s not like us.”

“It isn’t. You’re right about that,” he says, letting out a heavy sigh as he sets his phone aside. “And this… this is just exhausting. If this was any other woman, we wouldn’t be wallowing like this.”

I give him a long, heavy look. “Maybe we were wrong. Maybe she wasn’t the one. Maybe we just need to accept the fact that it didn’t work out and move on.”

“Brother, I’m in no mood for rebound hookups, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Oscar says dryly. “We all really fell for her. It’s painful, but maybe we just need to let ourselves grieve for a moment.”

“Is that what this is?” I mutter, pouring myself a glass of juice and taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “Maybe I’m focusing on Kellan because I don’t want to deal with myself. Maybe it’s just easier for me to look at him and say, ‘why can’t he just get over her?’”

“Everyone grieves in their own way.”

“Aren’t you the sage—stop saying ‘grieve,’” I say, my tone sharp. “It’s not like she’s dead. We did everything we could to try to explain ourselves, but she chose not to believe us. If anything, we should be angry.”

“Angry at Makayla?” Oscar asks, making sure he caught my meaning.

“Yes.” I nod. “She’s the one who ran out on us without even giving us a chance to change her mind. She obviously doesn’t trust us.”

“Be careful. Anger is also a sign of grief, although it’s perfectly natural.”

“Since when did you become a therapist?” I mutter.

“All right.” Oscar steps into my line of sight. “If you want to get over her, let’s do something crazy. Let’s go to Vegas. We’ll blow some cash on the slots, get drunk, and maybe meet an adventurous woman.”

I straighten. A weekend in Vegas actually sounds appealing, if only for a heartbeat. It’s been a while since we hit Sin City, and that change of scenery might be just what the doctor ordered for the three of us.

“Not the worst idea you’ve had,” I admit. “But Bryan might need us for the upcoming trade commission. It’s a major move for the company.”

“I’ll handle Bryan,” Oscar promises. “We’d only be gone for the weekend. He can do the prep work without us. Besides, he’ll probably be relieved not to face our sulking faces for a few days.”

“Granted. It’s not like our friendship is anywhere close to resuscitation, anyway…”

“People need time, Alex. We have to be patient. And we cannot ignore our own needs in the process.”

I scratch at the stubble sprouting along my jaw—a devilish detail that forces me to admit I’m not doing okay either.

“What did our lawyers say?” I ask Oscar. “Any news?”

“They’re moving forward with the motion to dismiss and prepping a countersuit on our behalf,” he says, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard so far,” I mutter. “At least there’s that.”

“Remember what the PI told us when we first put him on Melanie?”

I shoot him a sour look. “Don’t?—”

“He said we need to be patient. Lo and behold, our patience is finally being rewarded.”

Shaking my head slowly, I get up and turn away from him. “For someone who mere seconds ago was freaking over a household bill, you’re so fucking zen all of a sudden.”

“My despair ebbs and flows.” He chuckles dryly. “I have my moments.”

I can’t help but laugh. At least he’s self-aware.

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