Page 29 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

ADAM

Istare at Sam as Chelsea walks away from him, just like she did when she escaped from the conference room.

She's running from something. Us.

Clearly, she didn’t plan on seeing us again.

I don’t know whether to be amused or offended. I mean, it happens, but it’s rare that a woman we’ve slept with has so many reservations toward seeing us again.

Reservations might even be too mild a word. It's more like she absolutely hates the sight of us.

I mean, yeah, I understand it can be awkward, and her brother's presence doesn’t make it easier, but her reaction feels deeper than that. It's almost like we did something to personally offend her.

I run the night through my mind, trying to think if there was any point she showed any discomfort or any point that she wasn’t into it. I comb through the details, trying to find one moment of dissociation or a single sign that she wasn't all the way there.

Not a single second comes to mind, and I would know. The night has tormented me for days since then, replaying in a loop, becoming sharper and clearer in my dreams. Teasing me with what I can’t have again. There was no point at which she showed any signs of resistance.

Maybe it’s a mental block now, as she can't accept the things she did under the cover of night. Or maybe it’s situational. Maybe she has a fiancé somewhere, and she’s scared he’s going to find out what happened. I mean, I was wrong about her being James’ girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean she’s single. Because that kind of reaction, the combination of abject fear and guilt, the total avoidance, speaks to having something to hide.

Sam is staring after her with a forlorn look like a kicked puppy. As I approach him, it hardens into determination, and I nearly groan. I know what that look is.

That’s the look he gets when he meets a difficult hitch on a project, and he’s determined not to sleep until he works it through.

“Let it go,” I tell him, though I know it’s probably going to be useless. He doesn’t even take his eyes off the path she just walked when I’m talking to him. He’s staring after her, as though willing her to come back.

“Sam,” I say.

He finally takes his eyes off the path and rests them on me.

“You heard her,” I tell him. "I don’t think she wants anything to do with us.”

He frowns. “I didn’t say anything about us. I asked her to go out with me.”

I know,” I say, even though what he just said has a strange knot forming in my stomach. “I saw it happen. I also saw her run away from you.”

"She’s scared of something.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. I want to find out.”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe she has a boyfriend?"

He gives me a sardonic look. “The last time you told me that you were wrong.”

“I was wrong about who her partner was, not necessarily that she didn’t have one."

He chews on that for a second, then shrugs. “I didn’t see a ring.”

“So?”

“She’s not married. So whoever he’s with must not be serious then.”

I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement, until I find that he’s dead serious. No trace of amusement lines his features.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

He turns back to regard me silently.