"What's that?"

He stuffs the phone back in his pocket. "Mel's not pregnant."

"Sorry to hear that, man. I know how much you wanted to be a father by now."

"Yeah. But I'm beginning to think it's just not in the cards for us. I mean, it's been the same story every month now for ten, eleven years. It's draining."

"Literally," I add.

That gets us both to smile.

Twins. Born minutes apart, both of our marriages falling apart.

"That too, but emotionally, I can't take anymore. Don't know how she keeps wanting to try."

"How could she not want to? That's the first expectation you put on her."

He sighs. "And that's why I keep giving in. Feel like I'm responsible for making her obsessed with making me a daddy."

I dig my phone out from the cushion. Plug it up to the wall charger by the TV. It's so dead it won't even cut on after being attached to its life source. I'm in the room with my life source, but both of us are zapped of energy.

In the kitchen, I open all the cabinets in search of something edible. Come up short. Nothing but a jar of peanut b.u.t.ter. That makes me think of Sydney. I can see her cheeks all sunken in trying to sip on a smoothie thicker than the thickest contestant on The Biggest Loser's thighs. I grab two cold bottles of beer from the fridge. Toss one to my brother back in the living room.

Andrew uses one of the napkins next to the pizza box to wrap around the bottle cap. Pops it, takes a long gulp. "If you could change anything about your life, what would it be?"

I pop the top on my beer, down a mouthful of carbs. "Probably would've pursued a career in photography."

He falls back into the couch. "Man, I thought you'd say something totally different. Why a career change, and photography at that?"

"And all these years I thought you knew me, Bro."

"Obviously, I don't know everything."

"You remember I took that photography cla.s.s back in high school?"

He says, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. We'd eat dinner late sometimes because Dad would have to go searching the neighborhood for you and that doggone camera. You'd be out there taking pictures all night if Mama and Daddy would've let you."

I toss the memory back and forth in my mind. That camera was the first time I felt needed and appreciated. It was like the camera needed me to fulfill its purpose. Without me, it was pretty useless. I'd take that thing with me everywhere, using it to capture anything the lens found interesting. The camera was my security until I discovered love. Until I discovered Rene. "I was serious about it," I say.

"That you were. I remember you went days without talking when Daddy hid your camera after the semester ended."

"Yep. He told me I needed to focus on math. Said pictures wouldn't make a woman happy."

"That's exactly what he'd say. 'Keeping food on the table makes a happy wife.' He used to kill me with that," Andrew says.

"And look where that got us." I gulp back more beer. "What about you? What would you change?"

He rolls the bottle back and forth between his hands. Thinks about his answer to the question he asked of me. "Check this out. I'd actually change my career as well."

"No, not you."

My brother looks at me as if he's looking at himself in the mirror. "No lie. Being around kids forty hours a week is the main reason why I wanted to be a father. Kids make life worth living."

I raise my beer in the air. "Don't I know it."

"I know you do, brother. I know you do."

I ask him what he asked me a little while ago. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I put a lot of pressure on Mel up front. I pretty much made her a mother before I even took her out on our first date. That wasn't fair. Now she's putting pressure on me to fulfill my requirements of her. We've both grown lost in the midst of all of this. It's time for us to have a heart-to-heart about it. We'll see where it leads. One thing's for sure, it'll either make us or break us."

"That's life. Always something to make or break you."

And I've just about reached my breaking point.

23.

SYDNEY.

What is it about men?

They put the bait on the hook, stick it in the water, wait for you to bite, reel you in only to take you off the line and toss you back in the water.

That's how Brandon's made me feel.

I've been to Pick Your Fit plus Riverpoint with no running partner in sight. He's the one who asked me to train him, and now he doesn't even want to show up. He's got me sacrificing sleep in the mornings and time with the kids in the evenings to be stood up. Not that I'm really complaining there, but still, it's inconsiderate. Ever since the day at his place, when he kissed my temples, things haven't been the same. Maybe my confession scared him away.

Eric was the same way when we first started dating. A mutual friend introduced us. Took a few phone calls, texts, and emails before we could get our schedules together. He had been on the police force for a few years and was in the process of trying to get in with a special unit's division. I was just getting started in real estate. Neither of us had much free time to play around with. He was charming in our communication. Had me interested. Told me he wasn't dating anyone else, he was a one-woman kind of guy. I was rather smitten before meeting him. It was one of those moments where you just fall for someone's words. When we met, though, the chemistry was lacking. I found myself more interested in him behind the scene than face to face. But I kept dating him. Really wanted to give him a shot since he was different from the men I was used to dating. I got used to him, overlooked his quirks. The moment I started to feel a little something, he told me he was interested in another woman and that he wanted to date us both.

I was taken aback by his honesty. I dodged his bait for months. When I finally decided to go for it, he reeled the hook in to cast back out in another direction. I should've stayed right where I was instead of swimming to the other end of the pond in search of another chance at what he had to offer. Every time I tried to get more involved with him, it was like his line was pulled more from another direction. I began to doubt myself, felt insecurity creeping in. Made me feel like I had to find ways to prove to him I was worth dating exclusively. I needed to make him know I was a good catch.

The clock on the dash reads six-thirty-three. Another morning left hanging by another woman's husband.

Men.

I secure the laces to my sneakers, press "Go" on the running app on my smartphone. Soon as the GPS finds my location I hit "Start." Clip the phone to my running belt, put one earphone in my ear, leave the other ear open so I can stay connected to nature at the same time. Need to make sure I'm always aware of my surroundings. Never know who's hiding in the bushes waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting soul.

Not a mile in, rain taps on the top of my head. I slow down momentarily to unclip the music player and place it in the waterproof pouch, then pick my pace up, hear my feet slap against wet concrete. Run like I'm trying to outrun the rain clouds. Legs feel good through the pressure I put on them to get me to the end of the path and back.

Seven miles and some change later, hands on hips, I make a steady stroll back to my car.

"Thought you were going to run until midnight."

Saw him the moment I stopped running. "How long you been out here?"

"Pulled up when you took your first step."

I check the running app on my phone. Sixty minutes and a few seconds. "You act like you've been out here for hours."

"Time moves slow when you're waiting."

With my shirt, I wipe sweat and rain from my face. Unlock my doors to grab a bottle of electrolytes and a protein bar. "Seeing as though you've left me hanging these past few days, how'd you know I'd be out here?"

Brandon rubs a hand across his scalp. He pulls out his phone, fidgets with it.

I step away, give him privacy. Bend over, fingertips to toes, stretch out tight hamstrings. Feel my stomach vibrate. I unzip the pouch, look at the caller ID on my phone. It's not Eric or my mom, so I don't answer. Then I realize I brought my work phone because I didn't want to be interrupted with anybody during my run and knew n.o.body would be calling about a house this early. They hang up before I can answer. As I put it back in the pouch, it vibrates again in my hand. I put my business voice on.

A finger taps me on my shoulder.

I turn around. The lips in front of me move to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"How'd you get my work number?" I ask through the phone.

The call disconnects. "The question is how do you know my wife?"

One of my knees buckles, makes me lose my balance. "I wasn't aware I knew your wife."

"You know her well enough to have your picture plastered in my front yard."

"Bear with me. I have three houses currently listed." I rack my brain trying to figure out which one he's referring to. One client is an elderly widow, another a married couple with two kids, and one on the way needing a larger home. "Are you talking about the property in Farrington Isle?"

"How do you know my wife?" he questions again.

A breeze pa.s.ses through me. Clothes are wet from the rain and sweat. I fold my arms across my chest. "This is weird."

He just stands there, eyes on me. Waiting for answers.

If looks could kill, I'd be lying in an open grave with dirt being tossed on top of me like a Jane Doe. "Look, I had no idea she was your wife. She called about selling her house, I went out, a contract was signed. She didn't mention a husband. How was I supposed to know?"

Hardened eyes turn away from me as he walks back over to his ride.

I finish off my drink, toss it in the trash. Need every ounce of energy possible for this conversation.

He leans up against his truck. "It's in her maiden name. Rene Ortiz."

I know exactly who his wife is.

"Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Wish I could fast-forward to the good parts 'cause this right here..."

"I've felt that way before."

Out of nowhere, Brandon chuckles. Then doubles over in laughter. "Wanna hear a good joke?"

His laughter and wanting to tell a joke catches me off-guard, but is needed at the same time. "Our conversations have been pretty deep lately, huh?"

"Get this, my wife's dying. She's got cancer." He's laughing so hard tears stream from his eyes when he looks up. "Funny, huh?"

It takes the hand of G.o.d reaching down from heaven to keep my hand from slapping this insane individual across the face. "No. That's not funny at all, Brandon. I can't believe you."

He pulls air through his teeth so hard it sounds like his teeth shatter. "You're right, it ain't funny." He says that, turns around and sends his fist through his car's window.

24.

BRANDON.

Sydney's motherly instincts kicks in.

She whips her car through morning traffic. Does her best to get me to the hospital before all the blood in my body flows out my hand.

"It's not that bad, Syd. Not worth getting in an accident over."

She looks at me. Worry in her eyes, hint of a smile on her face. "That's the first time you've called me Syd. I like the way it rolls off your tongue."

I wink until the throb in my hand steals my attention.

"Keep the towel tight. We're almost there."

A car in front of us is going too slow for Sydney's taste. She swerves around it, makes her tires scream.

Again, I say, "A few cuts aren't worth dying over."

As she presses down harder on the accelerator, a siren blares behind us. I look out the side mirror, see an all-black vehicle with blue flashing lights on our tail.