Page 48 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
I accept a warm hug from her, forgetting about last night for a moment and feeling like the young boy who came here for a sense of family. I hope I don’t destroy that. For myself. For the guys. And for Emma.
“I hope you guys are hungry! We cooked a feast this morning,” Catherine says once she releases me. She motions for everyone to head to the dining table, which is already set with silver utensils and red placemats and napkins.
I glance over at Emma, trying to make sure that she’s okay. She has a stiff smile on her face that anyone else will believe, but I see right through her. She’s panicking on the inside.
What if her brothers sense something is up? What if they start piecing things together?
If they find out the truth,nothingwill ever be the same. The family that we’ve created with each other will be fragmented, and I don’t even know if Emma will want anything to do with us once the dust settles from the destruction.
As we all sit at the table together, my stomach twists and turns, leaving me without much of an appetite at all. If things were different, I wouldn’t be worrying about what Ethan and Andrew thought about us. I would be holding her in front of the fire or in front of the Christmas tree, making memories with someone who feels like home to me.
Instead, I’m just a few seats down from her, and it feels like she’s miles away.
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-Two: Emma
What have I done?
Our traditional Christmas brunch is a blur as conversations go on all around me, and my parents’ amazing cooking feels sour in the pit of my stomach. Christmas is supposed to be a day of cheer and celebration with loved ones, but all I can think about is how disappointed my family would be in me if they found out what I did last night.
As if I don’t feel like the black sheep enough already.
My brothers have never made me feel like an outcast on purpose, and I’m pretty sure this would make them hate me. Out of everyone in the world, I slept with their best friends. Their brothers since childhood.
How can I expect them to be fine with that?
“Emma, you’ve barely touched your food,” Mom says from across the table. “Are you not feeling well?”
My face burns from anxiety as all eyes move to me. I shouldn’t be drawing attention to myself like this, but I can’t stop internally freaking out about last night. A fantasy that I’ve had in my head for weeks became reality, and we can’t take that back.
We can’t change the past.
“I’m okay. Just tired,” I reply before forcing myself to eat a large bite of mashed potatoes and gravy. My stomach churns in response.
Max’s hand brushes my leg under the table as he sits to my left. His eyes briefly flicker to mine, and I can see the concern in them.
As much as I want to hold his hand and ground myself, Ethan is literally right next to me. If he sees, he’ll absolutely flip. I can’t risk it, so I keep my eyes on my plate and continue eating.
“Since everyone else is done, how about dessert?” Mom asks as she stands.
Murmurs of agreement sound around the table, prompting her to head into the kitchen and return with her legendary pound cake and apple pie. Dad slices into them and hands out pieces on small plates as the conversation about Ethan’s odd patient from last week picks back up.
I almost deny a slice of apple pie, but that’ll really make me seem suspicious. It’ll probably hurt my mom’s feelings too, and I definitely don’t want to do that on the holidays.
By the time I’m done with all of my food, I’m too sick to my stomach to enjoy a mimosa, forcing myself to stick with water and a peppermint. I want to retreat to my childhood room and take a breather, but it’s time for presents, and Mom already has her camera out and ready like we’re kids again.
We all gather in the living room, lounging on the long sectional as a video of a crackling fire plays on the television. Their Christmas tree is so large that it nearly makes the whole living room glow bright and golden, and there’s enough wrapped presents under the tree to make any child giddy.
“Josh, you play Santa this year!” Mom volunteers him.
Josh hops up and approaches the tree, looking as casual and happy as usual. I don’t know how he’s putting on such a good show, especially after the things that he said to me last night when he had his fingers buried in my hair. “This one is for Ethan.”
The sound of my brother’s name is a jarringly sobering thought.
As Ethan gushes over some fancy new digital watch, Ryan leans toward me from my left. “You’re being too stiff.”
I flash him a warning look as Andrew sits to my right.
