Page 30 of Brother in Law with Benefits

I knew. I knew this was temporary and I agreed to it. I liked the safety of the expiration date, remember? That's what makes it safe, Sophie. You know where it ends.

Except somewhere between that night and tonight I stopped believing the expiration date. I stopped protecting myself. I let myself fall for Grant Guilligan, my ex-brother in law, the man who is definitely leaving, and then when he said maybe I don't want to leave I had the audacity to panic about it.

I can't decide if that's growth or just a new flavor of the same problem.

I sit on the couch until there's nothing left to cry, and then I stare at my phone.

Grant:I'm sorry. That was unfair. I don't know what I want yet.

The honest answer makes it worse, somehow. At least if he were lying, I could be straightforwardly angry. But he's not lying. He genuinely doesn't know. And I can't wait around in the uncertainty of his not-knowing, building my life around a maybe.

***

I don't see Grant for three days.

We text about Patty's appointments. Brief, professional, calibrated messages that communicate only the information they contain and nothing else. I am extremely good at this particular type of communication. I spent five years practicing it with Chris.

That comparison is not as comforting as I'd like it to be.

Tuesday is chemo day. I get to the hospital before them, which means I'm standing near the nurses' station when the elevator opens and they walk out. Grant looks tired. His hair is messier than usual. He's been running his hands through it.

Good. I haven't been sleeping either.

Though I immediately feel bad aboutgood, because Patty is the one going through chemotherapy and my scorecard of who's sleeping worst is not the most useful thing I could be tracking.

"Sophie!" Patty lights up.

"Hi, sweetheart." I hug her carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired of being asked. But better that you're here."

I settle into the chair beside her. Grant's on the other side with his laptop open, pretending to work with the focus of a man who is very much not working.

The air between us is thick with everything we're not saying.

"You should come to dinner Thursday," Patty says. "I'm making lasagna."

My eyes flick to Grant. His eyes flick to mine.

"I don't know if—"

"Nonsense. You're family. Grant will be there. Six o'clock." She closes her eyes. "Now I'm going to nap. These meds always make me drowsy. You two will have to manage the silence on your own."

She's asleep in four minutes. The IV pump beeps steadily.

Grant closes his laptop. "Sophie."

"Not here."

"We need to talk."

"Not here, Grant."

He's quiet for a moment. "Thursday. After dinner."

"Fine."

We sit in silence. I pull out my phone and scroll through nothing. He opens his laptop back up and doesn't type. After twenty minutes, he says quietly, without looking up, "I haven't stopped thinking about you."