Page 2 of My Brother's Best Men
When I came home to find the door unlocked, I didn’t panic. I assumed Keaton was probably unpacking groceries or something, since he always got the grocery order on Wednesdays. Keaton was always off on Wednesdays and Fridays, and on his days off, he liked to organize things at home. He was downright anal about things being done a certain way, and I’d learned to just let him do his thing, not wanting to be scolded or chastised like a damn child for doing it wrong.
It didn’t register right away. I heard the sounds, but I just figured he was watching porn like he usually did when he was masturbating. I even perked up, thinking I could surprise him in the midst of his self-pleasure. I thought maybe we could cross that fantasy off my sexy bucket list.
But the closer I got, the louder it got, and his curses and deep moans rang out like vicious echoes. And then I turned the corner to our bedroom and nearly screamed.
Because there he was—my fiancé—with his pants around his ankles, fucking some woman onourbed. Judging by the cum splattered all over her ass and the evident wet spot seeping through our crisp, white comforter, they’d been going at it for a while. And neither of them saw me, or heard me; that was apparent. Because theykept going.
Time froze, and I swear the world stopped as I watched my fiancé fuck her, tears pooling in my eyes as he bit out those three soul-crushing words.
“Fuck, I’m coming!”
My heart shattered. I choked out a sob, and I think I did scream then. I can’t remember; it’s all pretty much a blur, but I know the minute he saw me, the look of shock on his face said it all. It wasn’t remorse. It was panic. This wasn’t the first time.
It was just the first time I’d caught him red-handed.
I curl my legs up to my chest as the memory replays in my mind. The woman—whoever she was—seemed shocked to find out he was engaged. I wanted to hate her, and maybe I still do, to an extent. But it was clear she was a victim of Keaton Harding just as I was.
I didn’t think. I just told him it was over, pulled off my four-carat diamond ring and lobbed it at his fucking head. I grabbed my suitcase, which thankfully I’d already started to pack earlier in the week to prepare for my flight Friday, zipped it up, and left like a bat out of hell. Then I bought the first ticket I could get to Virginia.
How the hell am I going to tell my parents about this? What am I even going tosay? And how the hell am I going to go back towork? Keaton isn’t just some co-worker I was dating. I was engaged to the son of the CEO of the fucking company. Am I going to lose my job?
No, don’t think like that, Soph. That’s dramatic, even for you.
Still, I can’t deny it’s a possibility. Keaton’s definitely got the resources to pull something like that, and I’m not sure hewouldn’t do it if he thought my presence there would reflect badly on him and the company.
Fuck.
I shove the thought out of my mind as the pilot comes over the loudspeaker, announcing that we’ll be descending into the airport in about twenty minutes. My heart races, because reality is settling in—I’m flying in to meet my brother and escape this alone.
And he has no idea I’m even on this plane…
I haven’t called Sam to tell him I’m coming home early, though I know I probably should, all things considered. I mean, technically I don’t need to, because you know…family is always welcome. And he’s my brother so I know he won’t balk at me showing up unannounced as asurprise.And showing up early to celebrate definitely counts as a surprise.
And even if he isn’t home, I know where he keeps the spare key since he told me when he bought his house. Not that I’ve ever been there, but still.
I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to talk about what happened with Keaton. I need time to figure out my story, figure out what I’m going to say and where I’m going to go from here. I worry that calling Sam to tell him right now won’t end well. He’s got enough to worry about with our family coming in and the wedding and…
The Uber from the airport to 536 Muffin Lane feels like an eternity. I focus on the passing scenery, on the trees and sidewalks and the sun shining through the windows. In many ways, Cherrywood looks the same, but it also looks different. After all, I haven’t been here in seven years. Since I left for college.
The last time I saw them.
The guys. My brother’s best men.
I landed my job for H & H right out of college and moved to Portland. Did my time working holidays and nights, working my way up the ladder, and transferred to the Seattle office two years ago.
Where I met Keaton.
We usually traveled for the holidays, because he didn’t like to spend time with his family. I always thought it was romantic, but now those trips and retreats are soured, poisoned by what he’s done. To me. To us.
Guilt and shame fester inside me at the fact that I haven’t been home in seven years. I missed so many Thanksgivings and Christmases and birthdays and…
I close my eyes, trying to push the tears back.
I should have been here. I should have just come home by myself, but I didn’t want to go without Keaton, since he’d never met my family and…
Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?
When the Uber pulls up at my brother’s house, I note that the driveway is full. There’s an Escalade I don’t recognize, and two sedans, one of them being my brother’s. I realize it’s only a few days before our departure, so our out-of-town relatives are probably starting to come in.
