"What is this?" I frown dubiously at the gorgeous dahlias in my hands.

"Has no one ever bought you flowers?" Bret cocks his head.

"No, as a matter of fact. What am I supposed to do with them?"

"For starters, keep blushing just like that." Bret grins and I feel my cheeks heat up. I clutch the flowers tightly to my chest. "Then, when you get home, put them in water. Then think of me a lot."

The bookshop date is like something out of a rose-tinted dream. We pass under the rustic awning and step into the little shop, the bouquet of flowers in one hand, Bret's hand in the other, and a tote bag on my shoulder. I survey the array of books crammed into the small, antiquated place with awe. It's an arresting sight, overwhelming in its splendor.

"I want something just like this," I murmur in awe, gazing around the space. "A little place that I can open and close whenever I want. And it'll only have the books I like."

"Well, you have read enough to fill a bookstore." Bret thumbs my cheekbone. "I love listening to your gasps of surprise every time there's a plot twist."

"I do that?"

Bret tucks a curl behind my ear.

"You have an expression for, like, every sort of plot element. I could read a book just by watching you read it."

"Ah, but then you'd be missing out on the incredible power of words." We start strolling down the aisles, looking for nothing in particular. I like words. I can pin down big things, like Bret, into small things with less than ten letters each. Handsome, sweet, caring, sexy... "Look at all this." My fingers trail over the spines of the books. "Thousands and thousands of stories. All in one space. They say a reader lives a thousand lives, you know."

The dark, oak-panelled floor creaks delightfully under our feet.

"Tell me again about metaphors," Bret implores, a tender fondness in his eyes.

I launch into the power of metaphors, similes, and analogies in general. "You are...a delicious piece of cake to a diabetic," Bret surprises me by blurting. This gives me pause for a long moment. I turn around slowly.

"Okay. So you have been paying attention. I'm actually impressed."

I make one purchase, and then we're strolling through the dimly-lit city at night, past restaurant and bars, pinkies loosely entwined. 

"What're you going to name your bookshop?"

"I don't know. I still need to think of a good bibliophilic name."

"Any ideas so far?"

"Nope."

The dazzling city lights mingle in a brilliant, bokeh effect. We take selfies and candid shots of each other, and I let myself believe, all the while, that this isn't too good to be true.

Somehow, we wind up lying in his truck bed, stargazing and holding hands.

"I don't understand why it's so easy with you," I murmur.

"It hasn't been easy for me," Bret returns, staring up at the sky.

My heart sinks at the reminder of the way I ghosted and took him for granted. "I wanted to scream, I know. I saw you with my dad. I know you're texting him. Why won't you even look at my messages? I didn't want to seem desperate. But I was. You were giving me breadcrumbs, making me feel like I wasn't worthy of your time but also making sure I could never get over you. I would've waited, stuck in limbo, forever."

I remember snatching up my phone at every ping and deflating when I didn't see Rudy's name.

"I wasn't fair to you."

"I wasn't fair to Sammy, either," Bret mutters. "She confronted me multiple times. Cried. Why wasn't I all there? Why did I defend you over her? Why were you on my Lock Screen and not her? Why wasn't I more committed to her? Why wouldn't I look at her during sex? Why, why, why? I couldn't answer her."

He sniffs, rubbing his mouth. "There was a time I couldn't imagine not being straight. I loved women's bodies, still do. So fucking...sexy. But at some point I realized that men can fall in love for bigger reasons. We have this..." He waves his hands, struggling to express himself. "There's something bigger, a more profound purpose to love than sex. It's worth it, no matter how painful."

I could say I'm sorry. But we don't speak to each other with fake platitudes, practiced epithets, and overused condolences. They seem insufficient.

This, what we're doing right here, could ruin our friendship. They say when a romantic relationship ends, you lose a lover and a friend. We're taking a big risk. I won't downplay that with two such pitiful words.

"Bret, I...wish I knew what to say. Something better than I'm sorry..."

He turns to me, an ardent gleam in his eyes. I'm still getting used to this serious, vulnerable side of him. 

"How about I fucking kiss you? How about that?"

"I'm serious, Bret. You had everything. She could've given you everything you wanted and more."

"You'd better make it worth it, then," he teases with a wink.

I roll my eyes. Typical of Bret to make it about sex, even when we're having a serious heart-to-heart.

"Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?" I knock his shoulder.

Then Bret's face sobers and he leans in. There is so much pure, concentrated love in his eyes it makes it hard to breathe.

"Okay."

He answers my doubts with a kiss. His hand on my neck, Bret kisses me so gently it makes tears burn behind my eyes. He teases the seam of my lips with his tongue until I let him in, and then he deepens the kiss into something mind-blowing.

"Oh," I concede at length, in a small voice. "Okay, now I remember."

•••

My belly does a little flip-flop of acknowledgement when Bret texts me the next morning.

what's up cutie..?? how was your date last night? ;)

If someone had told me a few months ago that Bret's text would give me butterflies some day, I would've sought medical attention for them.

Pretty good. He's clearly a bit obsessed with me but I don't mind.

I smile and pocket my phone.

I'm on my way to check on Bella, when I quite literally bump into Felix.

"Oh, sorry!" I fret, ready to edge around him.

"Wait," he calls after me.

I hesitate, turning around slowly.

"I'm...sorry. About...what you saw."

"Please, it's fine. I mean, it's been, like, a million years..."

"It wasn't appropriate. I understand if you're scarred."

"It's fine; I get it. Rudy has a certain...appeal." God, I just want this conversation to end.

Felix chuckles nervously.

"I don't really like Rudy, to be honest. I'm...kind of into Bret." He digs the toe of his boot sheepishly into the dirt.

Heat pools in my chest at this revelation. "I don't know how you can spend so much time with him and not fall in love with him." Felix laughs nervously. "Anyway, Rudy's a good stand-in. Or, was. We're both over it now." My ears are ringing.

Before I know it, I'm reaching my hand out for a handshake, and hearing myself say:

"I think we're going to be good friends."

After Felix goes back to work, I set off with a new purpose in mind. I check the barns and the feed room, finally hearing a familiar voice coming from the tack room. Bret's. Apparently, he had the same idea. I peek through the crack in the door to see him rolling up his sleeve, standing across from Rudy. My heart sinks.

"You knew this was going to happen didn't you?" Bret intones calmly. "You knew I'd find out eventually, about Evan."

"Suppose it was inevitable," Rudy returns warily.

"You've got some balls, fucking him right under my nose."

My heart sinks.

Rudy draws a hand wearily down his face.

"Here to tell me how much ya hate me?"

I'm ready to intervene when Bret speaks again.

"No, actually," Bret counters. "I think..." He pauses, mulling over his next words for a moment. "I hated you because Evan always gave you more attention."

Rudy regards him evenly. "You know why I don't hate you?" Rudy shakes his head. "'Cause Evan and I wouldn't be together if it wasn't for you. So I guess I should say thank you."

He's right. I could've fawned over Rudy forever. Thinking I'd never go for him, Bret would've settled for Sammy. If he couldn't have me, he would've at least tried to be happy. We would've been two ships passing in the night.

"By the way," Bret appends. "I'm moving out. Two weeks."

Rudy looks like he'd like to talk about that more, but is met with Bret's retreating back.

Bret notices me in the doorway. He comes over, eyes dimming minutely when he realizes who I've come to see.

"What're you doing?"

I swallow thickly. I hadn't thought about how this would look to Bret.

"I just need to talk to him for a minute."

Bret's face is fraught with emotion.

"Whatever you need. As long as I'm the one who takes you home tonight."

He gazes at me for a moment and then leaves with a kiss to my temple. And, for the first time in a long time, I'm alone with Rudy again. The excitement at the prospect of seeing him hasn't completely faded.

"Hi, Rudy," I breathe, finally shattering the silence between us into a million tiny fragments, suspended in midair.

I regard him expectantly. I'm waiting for that thrill to kick in, but it doesn't come. I look down at his weathered hands, the silver metal of his wedding band standing out against the burnished bronze of his skin, but it just looks like a hand. I try to remember what it was that I used to do to get myself worked up the way I did, but the answer evades me. Am I looking at him from the wrong angle? The wrong lighting? Setting? He's lost all of his magic and charm.

The fog has been lifted and, unveiled, Rudy doesn't look like much. He looks old. The wrinkles and white hairs I used to overlook, like some kind of automatic FaceTune applied by my brain, now stand out in sharp relief.

I could cry with relief. I feel like I've been in a drug-induced haze for the last couple of years and I'm finally sober and clean, free from my shackles.

"I think I've finally figured you out," I start, thrumming with excitement at the prospect of confronting him. "You're a thrill seeker. You got bored of me because you only like chasing the unattainable." I speak the facts plainly, without derision or venom. "But the truth is that I was the same. I think I just thought I loved you, because I couldn't have you. I liked the unattainable, forbidden romance, and not being able to have you made you all the more appealing. But I'm finally over you, and that thing I was chasing."

"Ah'm sorry I can't love ya like ya wanted." Rudy drags a hand warily through his hair. "I don' figure I can love any man like that."

"That's okay. You don't have to apologize; I get it."

"I shouldn't've led ya on, Evan. It was wrong of me. I thought I was doin' it to make ya happy, but I was bein' selfish. I see that now."

I shake my head.

"I started it. It was my fault. You told me no when I came onto you and I persisted. If the roles had been reversed... Well, it was just wrong."

Rudy opens his arms and I step into the hug.

There were so many times when I just wanted to turn my attraction for him off, and quit him. But the only thing that worked was to actually have him, attempt a relationship with him. And watch it crumble. That was the only cure for my peculiar affliction, however painful. Anything else would've left me with resentment, and what-ifs. I needed to learn the hard way.

This is cathartic, and that may be the reason for my tears. I also cry because it feels like hugging my dad, and I miss him.

•••

The shoreline of the beach is flat and peaceful, and the wind pushes it playfully against the sand. The breeze seems to reach out and brush my hair away from my face with warm fingers. The shore laves at my ankles, sand between my toes.

"Damn," Felix whistles beside me. "So if y'all are at a big family dinner and you say, daddy pass the salt, how many men are gonna reach for it?"

"Shut up," I laugh, knocking his shoulder. "I don't call Bret daddy."

The scent of sunscreen and fragrances is strong in the air; crowds pass by in a whirl of sunglasses, strapless tops and golden skin, all laughing as they sip from Iced Capps and fruit smoothies.

"Have you never seen him grilling on the lawn with just his apron on?"

I shake my head.

"That would be way too weird."

Everything feels the same. Bret is the same as ever. Just an attractive, carefree guy laughing with his friends. I recognize the sound of his laugh before I see him. Tanned and brilliant, he seems happier than he's ever been.

Bret is a fine physical specimen, big and swole with gorgeous, aureate skin. People always stare and whisper. That part isn't new, either. Nowadays, however, they have even more reason to gossip. That's Bret Palmer. He was going to marry his girlfriend but he broke it off after five years together. Rumor has it he's gay for his best friend.

Bret is oblivious, cavorting about with the other firemen. I'm not.

It's crazy how different we are. I'm socially lethargic. Bret is energetic, bubbly, animated, always laughing. He is direct, little hedging language. I'm always stuttering and tripping over my words, using filler words because I lack confidence. He says things freely that I would struggle for weeks to get out. It's amazing that we get along at all. I suppose we complement each other.

Bret comes over and snags me by the waist. This part is new. He has a towel strung over one shoulder and his hair is bristled and wet from his swim.

"Wassup, pretty boy," he asks with his usual sunny disposition. "Why're you staring at me?"

"What? No reason."

"Tell me."

"O-kay! You look really sexy, but I wasn't gonna tell you because your ego's already big enough," I huff.

"You know what else I have that's big?" Bret goads, tongue peeking out of his teeth.

"Shut up, Bret," I mutter, vexed.

"What? Yours is a very decent size, too-"

"Shut the fuck up, Bret." Color rises in my cheeks. Felix is literally standing right here, and Bret finally notices him when I nod emphatically in his direction.

Bret is saved when his friends call him over to the volleyball net. I elect not to join, preferring to walk with Felix.

The sun hangs in a dazzlingly clear blue sky, radiating warmth on the white sand below. It casts dappled patterns and shadows, and gleams across the shiny hoods of cars and umbrella tops.

People are suntanning, snacking, conversing cheerily, and wading through the crystalline waters of the beach. But I only see Bret.

"You're still staring at him," Felix points out, snapping me out of my daze.

It's hard not to, when women keep strolling around in Bret's line of sight in their skimpy bikinis.

We gather together to eat lunch. As though sensing my insecurities, Bret keeps a lingering hand on the small of my back, thumb rubbing the inside of my wrist. Afterwards, he challenges me with, "race you to the water!"

I begin to sprint across the beach, the hot sand like piranhas snapping painfully at my heels.

He kicks up a spray of water with his foot and stands still as the droplets stream down his broad, golden shoulders and lean hips.

Laughing mildly, I kick a spray of water his way, and he responds by leaning over and sending a mammoth tidal wave rushing at me.

I shriek with laughter, scrunching up my eyes as it rains over my head. As the water settles, a few droplets still flying through the air, I twirl once in exhilaration.

Suddenly, I give a small yelp as my feet give away underneath me.

"Bret!"

Instinctively, he dives in to catch me.

"I've got you," he cries as we land in a heap in the shallow water, sending up a spray of glittering droplets around us. We resurface laughingly in a matter of seconds.

"Wow, you do adore me," I grin as he sits up in the water, drawing a hand down his glistening face. "Sap."

In response, he turns swiftly and pins me to the ground beneath the shallow water with his hands.

"Oh, you've got jokes?"

I squeal with laughter as his lips graze the skin on my neck and shoulders.

"That tickles," I protest feebly. But Bret is unrelenting, feasting on my neck.

He finally props himself up on his elbows and leans over, breathing hard.

Grinning and free at last, I reach over to swipe a handful of water into his face.

"Did you enjoy your meal? Wash it down with some water."

Bret pulls me to my feet and holds me tightly against his bronze chest. It's hot and smells of coconut sunscreen.

"Can't you just shut the fuck up and let me adore you?"

He holds my face between his hands, gazing imploringly into my eyes. Smiling, I wrap my arms around his waist and allow myself to be adored.

I'm on a high I never want to come down from. It's been a whirl of romance with Bret. Gym dates. Cafés. Bookstores. By the time one date is over, we've already planned the next.

However trite it may sound, he makes me so happy. He treats me better than anyone else ever has. I've realized that I am so loved. And I can't believe that I didn't see it before.

"You can let me go now," I murmur into his neck.

Bret huffs a tender laugh.

"Doesn't mean I will."

My face heats.

"When are you gonna stop saying such weird, sappy things?"

"When are you gonna kiss me?" Bret pulls back to gaze at me intently.

I lean in slowly, and then-

"Fuck!" Bret bellows when I knock him into the surf.

I wipe tears of laughter from my eyes as he picks himself up again, spitting water.

He raises an eyebrow in warning, and I try to stifle my laughter, but the harder I try to contain it, the harder it is to stop. I press my hands against my mouth, already shaking my head madly.

"Oh no..." My eyes widen in fear as I sense my inevitable fate looming. "No no no no..."

"Oh yes," Bret grins. He grabs hold of me, pulling me under. Instantly, my whole world darkens. Silence. My senses scream to life as the chilly water devours me. Moments later, I break through the surface again, already choking with laughter.

"Fuck you, Palmer."

As I shake off the chilly water, the sun warming my back and shoulders, Bret gazes at me, cerulean eyes shining with supplication.

"That's the idea, Myer."

•••

It was my idea for Sammy to tag along to the hospital, just to keep up appearances. Lucille the peds nurse is expecting the golden couple, and I don't want to sabotage Bret's chances of taking this baby home in any way. The adoption process is hard enough as it is.

I think it says a lot about what a great guy Bret is that his ex-fiancée still wants to be friends with him. No none can stay away from him for long, even if he called off their marriage.

There are some complications with the baby. I'd prefer not to see him, not to get attached, but he means too much to Bret for me to stay away.

"Kids," Sammy mutters beside me outside the glass-panelled room. "One minute you're holding them in the delivery ward and the next you're holding their lifeless body after their middle school classmate stabbed them to death. Or standing in court while they're sentenced. It can all go so wrong in a heartbeat and then you're never okay again. If their life is ruined, your life is ruined. Why would you attach your happiness to a wild card like that?"

I shake my head, gazing at Bret as he gazes down at the baby tied up to colorful tubes.

"Love," I surmise.

When it's my turn with the baby, I feel my throat clog up. He's really cute. Fragile and tiny, but really cute. He'd better survive. It would destroy Bret if he doesn't.

When I rejoin them, Bret pulls me aside.

"I need you to drive the car back," he says gently. "Apparently, there's something wrong with Sammy's car; she wants me to check it out."

"What?!" I whisper-yell. "She just realized that?"

Bret sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

"It's not my place to judge, just to help-"

"Why do you have to deal with it? Why can't she call triple A?"

"We will, if I can't get it to start. I'm just going to take a look. She's stranded until they get here. Evan, I can't just leave her alone in a dark parking lot-"

"Can't you see what she's doing? She's manipulating you, trying to get you alone-"

"We can't assume that. I have to give her the benefit of the doubt, like I would for anyone else-"

"She's not just anyone else; she's your ex."

"Evan-"

"Okay." I bite my lip. "Okay, you're right. I'm just overreacting. I'm sorry." It's no extraordinary mystery that a side-effect of being cheated on is paranoia. This is fine.

Bret kisses my forehead.

"Evan, you're the only one I'm in love with, the only one I want."

I nod wordlessly, worrying my bottom lip. "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

I let go of his hand like someone falling from a cliff.

Watching his retreating back, Macy's words came rushing back with the force of a sledgehammer: he's going to realize he can do better than you and move on to someone who knows what they want.

It feels like just yesterday I was grossed out by the idea of being with him. Now I'm feeling possessive and jealous. I've never expected anything from any of my romantic partners; I just didn't respect myself enough. Actually, most weren't even romantic partners. But I finally have someone to be selfish about, and I want to keep him all to myself. Is that so wrong?

Bret's new condo has gigantic windows that open out over the city. By unspoken agreement, it's ours. Bret regulated the AC to my desired temperature and my toothbrush lies next to his.

I let myself in and almost immediately start pacing around. The space feels too big for one person.

Minutes turn into hours. Intrusive thoughts and theories set in, a million different scenarios playing in my head.

Eventually, I brush my teeth, strip down to my boxers, and crawl onto Bret's side of the bed.

The sound of the key turning in the door awakens me. The LED alarm clock face reads quarter to eleven. I was expecting him to spend the night with Sammy. But when Bret's silhouette appears in the door, I nearly burst into tears of relief.

•••

"So what did you end up talking to my dad about," Bret asks over breakfast the next day.

"You need to be nicer to him." I pour orange juice into a tall glass and slide it across to Bret.

"What?"

"What he did was wrong. But I started it. He told me no multiple times and I still continued it. If you hate him, you should hate me too. It takes two to tango."

"He's way older than you-"

"I'm an adult-"

"He should've known better."

"I should've too."

Bret bites into a piece of toast, the crunch deafening in the silence.

"Why are you defending him? Should I be worried?"

"No! I don't feel that way about him anymore. But...I still care about him, just like I care about every other member of your family."

"Okay... If you say you don't have feelings for him anymore, then I believe you."

Bret's face is pinched with worry. He's saying he believes me, but I'm not sure I believe him.

"If you need to fuck him one more time...as long as you come back to me after it...I'll survive. I promise, if you want me to, I'll let you go."

"I don't need him." I shake my head, spreading butter on my toast. "You're better." I flash Bret a saucy wink. "You're the best."

"Never forget that." There is no trace of humour in Bret's reply.

"You're the handsomest." I lean down close to his ear. "Give me fifty bucks."

A grin spreads over Bret's face.

"Flatter me more."

I laugh, and we continue eating in comfortable silence.

"Wanna take a shower?" Bret asks afterwards, pushing his chair back and crossing over to the sink to deposit his plate.

"I don't need a shower."

"Maybe you could take one just to freshen up? C'mon."

I sniff under my arms.

"Do I stink or something?"

Bret looks at me meaningfully. "Oh. Oh."