Page 39 of Brother in Law with Benefits

I lean against the counter. "Grant—"

"Sophie—"

We both speak at the same time. Then, we both stop and laugh. The tension breaks just slightly.

"You first," he says.

"I'm sorry. For disappearing. For making this harder by pulling away when you're trying to make a huge decision and you need… I'msorry. That's the main thing."

"You don't have to apologize for having feelings."

"I'm not apologizing for having feelings. I'm apologizing for the specific way I expressed them, which was to go silent for four days."

He sets down his coffee. Steps closer. "I went to the cemetery yesterday to see Dad."

I hold my breath. We haven’t really spoken about his late father.

"Sat there for a long time." He holds my gaze. "Said the things I should've said three years ago. And I figured something out."

"What?"

"That I've been researching jobs and running salary numbers and trying to make this decision logically—" He pauses. "And none of that is the actual decision. The actual decision is whether I'm the kind of man who stays." He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand warm at my jaw. "I want to be that man. For myself. And if that includes you, then that's what I want."

My throat is tight. "I want to believe you."

"I know."

"I'm working on it."

"That's enough." He almost smiles. "That's more than enough."

Something smells wrong.

"The eggs!”

"Shit!" He spins to the stove. The eggs are decisively burnt. He scrapes them onto a plate anyway, examines them to assess structural damage. "I'm impressed you noticed before the smoke alarm did."

I watch him plate the burnt eggs with fruit and orange juice, and I notice the moment I've been avoiding:I love him. The matter-of-fact realization that this thing I've been managing and containing and hedging is simply true.

I love Grant Guilligan. He is leaving in seven weeks. These facts currently coexist.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Why did you really leave after the wedding? You said it was because of me. But why leave instead of staying and," I search for the word. "Dealing with it?"

He's quiet for a long time. Then: "I was a coward."

"Grant."

"I was. I felt something during that dance I had no business feeling. You were twenty-three, just married, starting your life. I was thirty-eight and burned out and I had no right to want you." His jaw is tight. "So I left. I told myself it was the honorable thing. Really, I was protecting myself from something that scared me."

"Falling for someone?"

"Falling for someone and having to decide what to do about it." He crosses his arms, meets my eyes. "I wasn't ready for that. Staying would've meant choosing. And I didn't know how to choose to stay."

"And now?"