Page 67 of Forever Then

Chapter Fifty-One

I’M SORRY

Connor

Me

Your brother showed up. We’re going out for a drink.

The bartender sets two beer bottles in front of us, beads of condensation slinking to the wooden bar top. The murmured sounds of the few patrons scattered throughout the establishment are barely enough to cover up the sound from the television behind the bar.

Drew hasn’t spoken a word since we sat down. As unsettling as that is, I know this conversation has to begin with me.

“I’m sorry you found out like that.”

He pushes the beer down his throat with a click of his tongue, but doesn’t respond.

“I wanted to tell you myself, I swear. I was planning on?—”

“Well, here I am, Vining,” he interrupts. “ So, start talking.”

I give myself one breath and one swig of beer before I dive in. “I’m in love with her, Drew. And it didn’t happen overnight or on a four-day trip to Arizona. It happened a long time ago.”

His lips twist, nostrils flared. “Start there,” he says before he takes another pull from his bottle.

“That summer after we graduated college?—”

“Dammit to hell,” he mumbles, leveling me with a look.

“Everything I said to you in your kitchen was true. I didn’t lie to you. I cared about her and promised to always look out for her.”

“I saw it,” he accuses. “I caught you looking at her and you promised me it was nothing.”

“It was nothing, Drew. Nothing happened between us then.” I scan my best friend’s face and then the woodgrain of the bar.

“I warned you— all of you—back then that she was off-limits.”

“I know. And I heard you. It’s why I kept my distance after that.”

Silence settles as we tip back our beers.

“Then what?” he asks.

“Then,” I sigh, “Gretchen turned eighteen. Your parents lifted the social media ban and she sent me a DM on Instagram.” I shrug.

“We were friends. That’s how it started, at least. We were talking…

a lot, and somewhere along the way it started to feel like more.

We talked for a year, Drew.” I turn my head to meet his gaze.

“I didn’t see anybody else that whole time. ”

His expression is unflinching and entirely unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shake my head in thought or…avoidance, maybe.

“I don’t have a good excuse. You were living with Reagan, in your last year of law school, planning your wedding, we weren’t seeing each other as much and I…

I wasn’t certain she was even interested.

I don’t know, maybe I convinced myself there wasn’t anything to tell.

” I take a drink. “I mean, I knew I was in love with her, but I didn’t know how she felt.

“I was planning to talk to her at your wedding, see if she had any of those same feelings for me before I talked to you about it, but I?—”

“She said you hurt her,” Drew supplies, unmistakable protectiveness in his tone.

Guilt presses in, but then I remember Gretchen’s face, her repeated affirmations of love and forgiveness. I can do this. I can confess this painful piece to him.

“At your rehearsal dinner you said some things to me,” I say and remembrance immediately flashes across Drew’s face, “and I’m not blaming you for my mistakes because that’s on me.

No matter what you thought of me, I had the opportunity to prove you wrong or prove you right and… I made the wrong choice.”

“You invited that bartender.” His voice lands lethal and quiet.

I close my eyes and that’s confirmation enough. “Did you know she was Gretchen’s friend from high school?”

Drew gives me a look of pure horror. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t know either.”

Drew listens in riveted interest—or disgust—as I parlay the details of Alexis’ connection to Gretchen, the bad blood between them, how her former best friend used me to make Gretchen jealous, how I was unaware of all of this until it was too late and how terribly my actions hurt his sister.

“After I sent Alexis home, I went to find Gretchen to apologize and try to explain.” I pause, running a hand down my face. “I kissed her.”

Drew bristles, his hand fisted around his beer bottle so hard it could shatter.

“Then I stopped it,” I continue. “Because I felt guilty. I hadn’t talked to you yet and what you’d said the night before kept ringing in my head and I felt like no matter what choice I made, it was the wrong one.

” I take another swig. “I walked away. I loved her and I walked away from her and it’s the biggest regret of my life. ”

My phone buzzes on the bar. Thankful for the interruption, I flip it over to see Gretchen’s response to the text I sent her before Drew and I left my apartment.

Gretchen

No matter what happens, I love you.

I turn the phone back face down on the bar, not caring if Drew saw any of it over my shoulder.

Part of me wants to wave it in his face and say “see, we love each other.” But as far as he’s concerned, I loved somebody else two months ago.

Even though I’ve tried to explain that it wasn’t the same, it does nothing to make the love I claim to have for his sister seem any different.

If he saw Gretchen’s message on my screen, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he prods the conversation forward. “And after the wedding?”

The heart in my chest feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “I lost myself. I wanted to make things right with her, but I was too ashamed. The guilt fed the shame and the shame fed the guilt and…you saw me, man. I know it was bad.”

“Yeah, I saw you,” he starts, and I turn to look at him, his eyes stern but softer than they were before. “But you never told me why.”

“I know,” I say, voice hoarse. “I messed everything up and lost Gretchen. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, too.

“All those times you saved my ass, I know I disappointed you and I knew if I told you the truth there was a strong possibility you’d never talk to me again.

My behavior was disgusting and I hated myself.

It’s why I agreed to go out with Lauren, which was an awful way of dealing with the situation, but I just wanted to do something that you wouldn’t hate me for.

I think I thought if I could stop disappointing you then maybe I’d feel better about myself. ”

Because that’s what it all really boiled down to in the end—and what Gretchen helped me see—I valued my best friend’s opinion of me more than Gretchen’s. More than my own.

“I was too much of a coward to confront the truth of it all back then. I’m sorry.”

I suck in a deep breath like it’s the first bit of oxygen my lungs have received in days.

“When you invited us to Gretchen’s graduation dinner, I honestly thought enough time had passed but…I was wrong. All the sh ame and guilt came right back the second I saw her. Realizing I wasn’t over her just made it worse.”

Drew downs the last half of his beer without coming up for air.

“I never meant to fall in love with your sister, but I did.” I level my eyes at him, sincere and intentional. “I can’t un-love the only girl that has ever made complete sense to me.”

It’s several brutally silent seconds before Drew finally looks away, dragging a hand over his jaw.

“She said you’re going to New York tomorrow to help her find an apartment.”

“I’m moving there, Drew.” He swivels his attention back to me. “To be with her.”

The old me would avoid Drew’s scrutinizing gaze, but the new me stands my ground. It’s only by the mercy of the bartender’s interruption that we break our stare.

We both wave off another round before Drew clears his throat and says, “All that stuff outside the restaurant…I shouldn’t have done that.

I was upset and…dealing with a lot.” He swallows and a flicker of grief flashes in his eyes.

“I was caught off guard but that’s no excuse for the things I said. I was out of line and I’m sorry.”

I only nod in response because the emotion taking hold in my chest threatens to spill out in dramatic fashion if I do much more. It feels like we’re close. So close.

He looks at me, gaze steady. “You know I love you, right?”

I smile softly at his words because I really needed to hear them. “Yeah, man. I love you, too.”

“Maybe we could get a do-over,” he adds, voice quiet. “Pretend it’s the day before my wedding and you have something really important you wanna say to me.”

I angle my body on the barstool to face him. One elbow braced on the bar, I place a hand over my mouth and assess the intentions behind his offer.

He just baited me with the opportunity to set things right and I don’t intend to waste it. “Drew, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Bro, I’m getting married tomorrow. Can it wait?”

I snicker before saying, “No. It’s really important.”

He turns to face me. “Ok, then. Shoot.”

I take in a deep breath.

He mutters a curse under his breath, stifling an eye roll. “Such a drama queen, Vining. Get to the point already.”

My chin falls to my chest and I fight a smile. When I look back up, my best friend pins me with a self-assured grin that says he’s enjoying this way too much. “Fine,” I concede. “I’m in love with your sister and I want to?—”

“You bastard,” he says flatly, completely deadpan.

I hit him with an exasperated glare and continue as though he said nothing at all. “I want to ask her out.”

“She’s too young for you,” he says.

“She’s an adult,” I volley.

“You’re a man-whore,” he volleys back.

“Takes one to know one.”

“I changed.”

“So have I.”

“She’s my sister.”

“She’s the love of my life.”

Eyes narrowed, he pins his arms over his chest. “And if I say no? If I say choosing her means you’ll lose me as a friend?”

“If Reagan were my sister and I made you choose, what would you say?”

He makes an egregious buzzer sound like we’re on an episode of Family Feud. “No cheating. I asked you first.”

I point a critical finger at him, only half serious when I say, “Cheating or exposing a double standard?”

He squints again. I arch a brow. There’s a playfulness to our banter, but the serious undertone remains.

“Ask me again,” I say.

“Me or her, Vining?”

“I choose her.”

“Good answer,” he says before holding up two fingers to the bartender.

We sit in contented silence, gazes fixed on the television mounted behind the bar airing the latest Cubs game.

When our second round of drinks arrive, he brings the bottle to his lips, but stops at the last second. He sweeps one menacing sidelong glance my way as he says, “If you hurt her again, I’ll kill you.”

This time, when he asks for my word, it’s a promise to never break Gretchen’s heart, to always make her happy. I offer the blood brother oath, but he insists that a handshake will do.

Also, I’m to never, under any circumstances—come hell, high water or act of God—talk to him about our sex life.