Trevor always seemed to get to the heart of the matter, but he didn’t bullshit me. He never had. When I talked to him, I always had the feeling that he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear, but by the end of the conversation, I’d feel better about whatever we’d talked about.
“So, Bram,” he said as we sat down at my new table.
“Shit, I’m going to need booze for this,” I bitched, standing up to get us a couple beers out of the fridge.
“What happened?” he asked as I sat back down.
“He doesn’t want kids,” I answered simply.
“And?”
“And he dropped me when I said that I was adopting Bethy’s baby.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I replied with a nod. “He hasn’t talked to me in two weeks.”
“What an idiot.”
I just shrugged my shoulders. It was what it was. Did I want to be with Bram? Yes. Did I want to be with Bram if he had one foot out the door? No way in hell.
“Are you hoping he changes his mind?” Trev asked, watching me closely.
“Do you think he will?” I asked, holding my breath. Maybe I should hold out. Maybe I should—
“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Trev said gently, making the air rush out of my lungs in a whoosh. “Bram’s always said he didn’t want kids. He’s adamant about it.”
“Yeah,” I said under my breath, fiddling with the taco that was falling apart on my plate.
“I know that Katie waited for Shane,” Trev said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And it worked out for them. But I’m not sure that waiting for Bram to get his head out of his ass will ever give you the results you want.”
“It’s okay to not want kids,” I murmured, not meeting Trevor’s eyes. “Lots of people don’t want kids.”
“True,” Trev said, nodding. “But Bram’s good with kids. He likes kids. His absolute refusal to ever even discuss having some of his own just doesn’t fit. Not that I think he’ll change his mind. I just think there’s probably more going on there than just not being interested in being a parent.”
“Why didn’t you become a shrink?” I asked teasingly. “You seem to notice shit other people wouldn’t think twice about.”
“I like playing with wood,” he teased back, flexing one large bicep.
“Yeah, your wood,” I snickered.
“That too.”
I laughed hard at the smirk on his face.
“You’ll do good, Ani,” he said after my laughter had died down.
“Yeah. I got this,” I replied with a nod.
That night, as I lay in my bed, I put my thoughts of Bram to rest. Trevor was right. He was always right.
For whatever reason, Bram didn’t want kids, and I did. Eventually, it would have come down to that fact, and we would have broken up anyway. I was lucky that I hadn’t been in any deeper with him.
At least that’s what I told myself.
And I kept telling myself that for the next three days as I passed him in our small office every day at work. Our breakup had been inevitable.
I almost believed it.
Chapter 11
Abraham
I was drunk.
Again.
I knew that I should be out doing something. Hell, it would have been less pathetic if I were out at the bar getting drunk, but I wasn’t. I was sitting on my leather couch in front of the TV, drinking beer like it was water.
My phone started ringing somewhere in between the cushions, but I ignored it. I was too lazy to search for the damn thing. I breathed a sigh of annoyance when it stopped ringing and then started up again. I didn’t look away from the TV or set my beer down as I pushed my other hand into the cushions, finally dragging the phone out.
“Hello, Alexander,” I answered.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” my twin bitched.
“I just did.”
“I’ve been calling you for two days.”
“What’s up?” I grabbed the remote and shut the TV off, leaning my head back on the couch.
“Look, I was giving you time to get your shit together—”
“What shit?” I cut in.
“I know you and Ani broke up. Hard not to notice that shit when I was there—but I thought you’d have fixed it by now.”
“Nothing to fix,” I replied, digging my fingers into my eye sockets. Shit, I was tired.
“She loves you—”
“No she doesn’t. It wasn’t like that.”
“And you love her, you idiot.”
“Nope.”
“Stop being an asshole,” Alex snapped.
“Did you seriously call me to bust my balls? Because I’m in the middle of something.”
“I know you’re sitting on the couch watching reality TV and drinking beer,” Alex said drily, making me sit up and look blearily around the house. How the hell?
“Actually, I’m at the bar,” I argued, sitting up straighter.
“No you’re not,” Alex scoffed.
“What do you need, Alex?” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I needed to get to bed. I was tired as hell. Who knew that avoiding your office manager was so much fucking work?