Nate I didn’t go to the Amtrak station. In fact, I barely made it out of the building before I stopped dead on the sidewalk with my chest tight and my lungs working like I’d sprinted ten blocks. I stood there under a flickering streetlamp with Emma’s last message open on my phone. The night air bit through my shirt, but I barely felt it over the roaring in my ears. She could be there, at the station, waiting for me, and here I was, in the iconic words of Metallica, so close, no matter how far. Yet I couldn’t make my feet move. I couldn’t do anything exc ept... call it off. Me: I’m sorry. I can’t do it like this. I swallowed hard and k ept typing, my hands shaking in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager trying to tell Dad I’d crashed his car into our garage wall. Me: Let’s meet first, see each other, and talk before we do anything like running away. I paused, pressing the heel of my hand against my sternum like it might hold my ribs together, but still, I k ept typing. Me: I have too much riding on this and on my life in general to just run. I’m sorry. I sent the message before I could convince myself to just go to the damn station and see if I could find her. Emma had canceled on me tonight, sure, but then she’d asked me to run away with her. I’d agreed and now there was every possibility I’d just blown up five years of whatever the fuck this was. Nothing came from her. No r eply. No jumping dots. The silence k ept eating at me until it felt like there was nothing left. “Yeah,” I muttered to myself, shoving my phone into my pocket. “You’re a real stand-up guy, Westwood.” I didn’t remember deciding to walk to Will’s place. My feet just took over, carrying me through the city in a blur of headlights and late-night traffic until I found myself standing in front of his townhouse, my finger jamming the buzzer. Growing up, Will and I had never been the closest. Out of all my siblings, the only one I ever really let in even a little bit had been Charlotte, our sister. But she was all the way out in Texas and I couldn’t talk to her about this anyway.
She’d cut off my balls if she found out what I’d done. Alex probably would’ve been more understanding, but he was so invested in this deal that he would have stolen my phone to cut things off with Emma himself if it looked like she might jeopardize the Hinds deal. Besides, Will was oddly discreet. Friendly but never offering too much of himself. I’d always wondered if it was because he was a middle child, lingering in the background during conflict and soaking it all in to use later. At least he k ept his mouth shut until he’d formulated a plan. I desperately needed that right now, even if it might’ve come from a tendency to be overlooked as a child. The door swung open less than a minute later. Will stood in front of me barefoot and wearing gray sweats with a black hoodie. His hair was a mess, like maybe he’d been running his hands through it while working, but his focus was on me now, his mouth flattening as he took me in. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked calmly. No hello. No surprise. Just immediate diagnosis. Welcome to the way things go when you’re a Westwood. “Can I come in?” I rasped, my voice stolen by either that kiss or the cold air—or both. My brother st epped aside without a word, waving me into a townhouse I’d rarely visited, but it was exactly like him—warm, slightly disorganized, and lived in. He shut the door behind me and crossed his arms, waiting just a few st eps inside the door. I paced once across his living room, then turned back. “I think I screwed up.” He cocked his head. “That’s vague, bro. Even for you.” “I kissed Kate.” Will blinked once. Hard and slow. “Well, that’s a surprise. You guys don’t seem to like each other very much.” “I’m engaged to her,” I snapped. He shrugged. “Which changes nothing. So what’s the problem, then?” “I cheated, Will,” I said hoarsely. “When I kissed Kate, I cheated on someone else with my fiancée.” His chin lowered, his eyes widening as he finally walked further into the room and dropped onto a couch. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. You’re going to have to start over, though. I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.” “I’m not. I—” I exhaled, scrubbing my hands over my face before I tried again. “I’m not seeing her. I’m... I’ve been in an online relationship for over five years.” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.” “I wish.” “An online relationship with who?” “Emma.” I never thought it’d hurt to say her name out loud for the first time, but shit. It burned like acid in my throat after what I’d just done. “We met in a Discord and started
talking. About Jane Austen of all fucking things, but one thing turned into another and now she knows me better than anyone.” “Jane Austen? God. Okay, we’re going to circle back to that, but for now, does she know you’re engaged?” “No.” “Does she know about Kate at all?” “No.” His brow puckered. “Does she know who you are? Because if so, then she sure as fuck knows you’re engaged now. Did you see the news today?” I sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately.” “So does she know who you are?” When I hesitated, he tilted his head, studying me with an intensity I didn’t like being on the receiving end of. “Nathaniel.” “No, okay. No. She doesn’t know my real name,” I muttered. “Or any of the rest of it.” He stared at me for a long second, processing before he let out a heavy breath through his nose. “But you’re with her, so what does she think your name is?” “CB.” “CB? I would’ve understood W or Nathan, but where the hell did CB come from? Chicago Bears?” I shook my head. “It’s slightly less manly. It’s actually a play on Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility. I borrowed it for my username on the Discord.” “Shit, you weren’t kidding about the Jane Austen thing.” He let out a low whistle. “She really is a fan then, huh?” “She’s really not,” I said flatly. “She’s a certified hater who watched a remake movie that sucked so bad, she hopped online and found a Discord strictly to complain.” He chuckled. “You know, I haven’t even thought about those stories since Mom used to—” His eyes widened and I saw the sudden flare of understanding in them when he looked at me again, his expression softening. “Oh. Okay. Well, anyway. So you’re dating this certified Jane Austen hater?” “We’ve never really talked about it like that, but I’m in love with her, Will. At least, I think I am.” “You think you are?” he r epeated with a hint of disbelief ringing in his tone. “I’m no expert on this topic, but the way I’ve heard it from Trent, and Alex, and everyone fucking else, it sounds like something you know. Not something you think.”
“Yeah, but...” I shoved my hands into my pockets, pacing again as I shook my head. “It felt real, okay? It is real. Or it was. I don’t know anymore.” Will gestured at the couch. “Sit down before you wear a trench in my floor.” I sank into the cushion, propping my elbows on my knees and staring a hole into his rug instead. “Things started feeling different after I met Kate.” “You mean when she came to Chicago?” “No, I met her at a conference three years ago.” He let out a low whistle. “You’ve been emotionally cheating for three years? Or is it cheating in reverse, since Kate’s the one you’re actually engaged to now? Shit, I’m confused.” “No. Okay, no. Fuck. I hated Kate,” I said immediately. “Like, hated her. She’s loud, and argumentative, and she pushes every button I have like it’s an Olympic sport she’s trying to make the team for.” “And?” “And I love it,” I admitted, the words tasting like betrayal. “I love that she’s mean. That she teases me. That she tries to get a rise out of me and always succeeds. I spend half my time furious with her and the other half thinking about what she’s going to say next.” Will leaned back slowly, looking at me like I had brain damage. “If you kissed her, you’ve been thinking about more than just what she’s going to say next.” I shot him a look that said very clearly to fuck off, but then I remembered I was in his house. Uninvited. I’d come here to talk to him. Obviously, he was going to have questions. “Yeah,” I said finally on a groan that turned into a sigh. “Okay, yes. I have. Are you happy now? I’ve been thinking about all sorts of shit I shouldn’t be thinking, and then I kissed her. She’s my fiancée, for God’s sake, but when I did it, I wasn’t thinking about Emma and I should’ve been. I fucking cheated on her, Will. I cheated on an internet love, and after five years, I haven’t even told her that I’m getting married soon. It just feels like my brain is broken.” He stared at me for a long beat. “Would you like a ride to the psychiatric hospital or are you planning to take an Uber?” “Wow.” I scoffed. “I tell you everything. Things I’ve never told anyone, and that’s your response?” He shrugged. “I’m serious.” “I regret coming here,” I muttered, pushing to my feet. “Sit down,” he said calmly, holding my gaze before widening his eyes at me. “Seriously, man. Just sit the hell down. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I am if you’re not going to help me.” “Help you,” he echoed incredulously. “I’m not sure how to do that, Nate. Just tell me what happened tonight, okay? Maybe that’s a good place to start.” I broke it down for him, explaining that we were going to meet and everything that had happened from then on, and he frowned at me when I was done. “Have you ever seen Emma’s face?” I slowly sat back down, the question like an ice cube trailing down my spine. “No.” “Photos? Video calls? A grainy reflection of her in a spoon while you were having phone sex?” “No. It’s not like that, and why the hell would you need a spoon for phone sex?” He winked at me. “When you’re having ice cream during, but wait. If it’s not like that...” He trailed off, then swiped his tongue across his lips and looked at me like he was sure I was an alien. “If you’re so concerned about just kissing Kate and it’s been five years, that means...” He trailed off again. “Five years. Jesus. Fuck. I’d be cranky too. It’s no wonder, but a lot of things are suddenly making sense to me.” “Will.” “What?” His eyebrows lifted. “That wasn’t important? Not what she looked like or any kind of physical anything? She’s never even sent you a single naughty picture to—” “No,” I said defensively. “That wasn’t what it was about.” “Uh-huh.” He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So how do you know you’re not being catfished by a middle-aged man from the Midwest named Gary who collects model trains?” “We’ve spoken on the phone,” I argued. “I’ve heard her voice.” Even as I said it though, Kate’s laugh cracked through my brain, the cackling witch sound she made when she was making fun of me. It was so vivid in my head that I almost flinched. Will, obviously, noticed. “You look nauseated,” he said. “I’m fine.” He snorted. “You’re not fine.” “She’s real,” I insisted, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms. “I trust her.” “Do you? Or did you have your little spy look into her?” I scoffed. “I don’t have a spy.” He rolled his eyes. “Your hacker. Whatever you call him. Or her. Have you asked the person who occasionally gets information for us to look into this Emma of yours?” “Absolutely not. That would’ve been a massive violation of trust.” “And marrying someone you can’t stand while secretly maintaining a five-year anonymous relationship is, what, exactly?” “Don’t,” I warned. He held up both hands. “Just asking for purposes of clarification.” “I love Emma,” I said stubbornly. “I thought I did, anyway.” He watched me carefully. “When
did that change?” “It hasn’t changed,” I snapped automatically, but when he just k ept waiting me out instead of responding, I finally sighed. “It just got complicated, is all.” “Because of Kate.” “Yeah. Because of Kate.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Because the thought of hurting Kate suddenly feels worse than losing something I’ve spent the last five years fucking building with someone else.” His lips curved into something that looked like it wanted to become a smirk. “Interesting metric.” “You’re enjoying this way too much.” “I’m fascinated,” he corrected. “I never saw anything even remotely like this coming from you, bro. Me, maybe. But not you.” I groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Do you want to know the worst part?” “Oh, there’s a worst part. Fantastic.” “I don’t even know her real name,” I muttered. Will froze. “Excuse me?” “She doesn’t know mine either,” I reminded him. “Exc ept her real name could be Emma. I’ve never asked. I always just assumed it also came from her original username on the Discord after we moved over to email.” “So let me get this straight, you’re engaged to one woman, who you just got bent out of shape over for kissing, while you’re also in love with another woman whose legal identity you do not know.” “When you say it like that, it sounds weird.” “There’s no other way to say it,” he burst out, grinning from ear to ear. “This is awesome, man. Seriously. Thank you.” I exhaled harshly, rolling my head back to glare at the ceiling. “It never mattered. None of that stuff did. All this time, we’ve given each other space to just be ourselves and it’s incredible.” “It’s not incredible anymore?” I shook my head. “It matters now. Everything does. If I marry Kate—” “If?” “When,” I corrected unconvincingly, but he let it slide this time. “When I marry Kate, I won’t even know who I’m leaving behind.” He k ept staring at me for another long beat, then gave a curt nod. “In that case, the answer is obvious.” I groaned. “I hate when you do that.” “You need to meet Emma.” “I tried.” “No,” he said, pointing at me. “You tried to run away with her. That’s not the same thing.” I opened my mouth but then shut it when he k ept talking. “If nothing else, you have to meet her so I’ll know how this shit show ends.”
I frowned at him. “You’re unbelievable.” “Nah. I’m just invested now.” “I’m leaving,” I muttered, pushing off the couch again. “Take a breath,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Call her and ask to meet som eplace public. A bar. A club. The fucking library. This is Chicago. It’s your turf. Just pick a place and tell her to meet you there.” I paused. “We were going to do that earlier, but she canceled.” “Sure, but she said she’s here for work, right? Maybe she was just stuck in a meeting. It’s late now. If she shows, great. You get answers. If she cancels again, then she’s not real and you can start therapy.” “I do not need therapy.” “You absolutely need therapy,” he said without hesitation. “Probably regardless of how this plays out.” I exhaled slowly, tension leaking out of my shoulders as logic started settling into place. “You’re right.” He smirked. “I know.” “I need to meet her. Actually meet her.” “Correct.” Will leaned back, seemingly satisfied until he suddenly tilted his head again and let out a long sigh. “That only leaves us with one more question. What are you going to do about your feelings for your future wife?” Unfortunately, that question was a lot harder to answer than anything else he’d said tonight.