His Brother's Bride

“And you’re mine.”

“So, can we just forget what happened tonight?”

Never. “Of course.”

“And things won’t be weird between us in the morning?”

“No,” he said, wondering how he was ever going to keep his word, but determined to do so. “We won’t let them be.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re friends?”

He stared wearily at the shadow the light from the window was making on the ceiling. “Of course.”

Silence hung on the line.

“I don’t want to hang up,” she finally said. He wasn’t sure if she was laughing—or crying.

“We can talk awhile if you like.” It wasn’t as if he would be getting to sleep anytime soon.

“Can I ask you something?” There was an odd tone to her voice.

He braced himself. “Yeah.”

“Why do you think we did...what we did...tonight?”

How in the hell did he answer that one? How could she even ask?

“I mean, I love Paul,” she said. “And you’re in love with some other woman. Do you think it was just what we

talked about yesterday?”

The day before seemed so long ago, he could hardly remember it. “What’s that?”

“About seeking solace? Do you think that’s what happened tonight?”

For her. “Probably.”

“Is that bad?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” But it was. So bad. Laurel didn’t know what had really happened three and a half years ago. Or what had happened tonight, either.

“Is it wrong?”

More wrong than she’d ever know. “No. Not unless you let it be.”

“No,” she said, though her voice was a little hesitant. “No, I’m not going to make it into a big deal.”

“Good.”

“So we’re okay?”

“We’re okay.”

“Okay.”