Bobby stood up, and wiped the creamy juices that glimmered on his lips before kissing me. I could still taste us on his pout.

He rested his head against my chest as I cradled it. The built up frustration had finally released, and he was back to himself. “Lil, I'm becoming someone I don't want to be,” he lamented. “The way I feel about you is making me mad. It's why I left years ago. I don't want to become ugly and bitter. But I'm a man. And if I can't have you the way I want . . . it'll turn me into someone I don't like.”

I brushed his hair with my fingers. “Please don't give up on us,” I begged. “Just give me some time. I just heard the news. Give me some time to figure all this out, okay? I don't want to be this person either.”

Bobby and I were good people.

And yet here we were, wrapped in each other's arms in my husband's—his brother's—bedroom, risking anyone finding us. We were becoming desperate. Love was making us hysterical.

He stood up and straightened himself out. “The fireworks are over. I have to go.”

I nodded, feeling ice crystalize through my veins as the heat from his body departed from my skin. Knowing, at least for now, we would have to go back to pretending. I didn't know how much longer it could last like this, but I still didn't know how I could muster up the strength to leave. And I didn't think Bobby was quite ready to lose his brother as much as he protested our current situation.

In reaching for heaven, we had created a new hell for ourselves.

Bobby slipped out of the room as I stayed behind, cleaning up the mess we had made. Once I had finished, and the murmurs of the crowd returned to the backyard, I stepped out of the room.

Barbie was walking down the hallway.

“Lilly,” she called.

I wondered how long she had been in the house. Did she see Bobby come downstairs? I bluffed until I could find out why she was up here.

“Rory's a bit sauced,” she said.

“Oh no, did he do anything stupid?”

“No, but I thought you should know. I know he's been dry lately. What are you doing up here?” she asked. “I was looking for you at the fireworks crowd before I realized you must not have come along.”

“I had a headache. The last thing I needed was flashing lights and loud noises.”

“Awww, come on, let me fix something up for that.”

She was being especially kind after my blowup at Stan, who was floating around the party, but hadn't really spoken to me.

“Why don't you start, and I'll head down in a minute?” I felt ambushed and needed another minute alone.

“Okay.” She headed down the stairs but stopped midway. “Are you sure everything is okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Promise. I guess news of the move has me a bit frazzled.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically before leaving.

I ran back into the bedroom, a sudden and inexplicable rush of emotion hitting me, and sobbed.

As I wrapped up the dishes, Rory came into the house with the last of the items he needed to bring in from outdoors. I was seething now that the shock of Rory's announcement had worn off. Even Bobby said his brother was wrong. This wasn't just me holding onto some residual resentment towards Rory. His announcing our move without even telling me was wrong on its own merits.

He dragged his feet, heavy from the booze, into the house. As if last night hadn't happened, he came up behind me sliding his hands along my waist. “Where's Bobby?” he whispered.

“He's in the shower,” I replied shrugging off his advances.

“What's wrong?”

I shook my head, not believing I had to explain to him why I was upset. “Do I really have to tell you? You put me on the spot out there. A move like that is a decision we both make. You don't just spring it on me and assume that's something I want to do, too.”

“What? They offered the job. I took it. Case closed. What can you do here that you can't do anywhere else? My career comes first, it puts the food on the table, the roof over your

head . . . that nice car of yours in the driveway.” He pointed towards the front of the house.

“You wanted to be the only breadwinner. I went to college too. I could have a career. Just because you don't want me to work, doesn't mean I have no say in anything.”

“You want a job, Lilly? Is that what this is about?” He chuckled mockingly. “Come

on . . . you've been taken care of your entire life. Daddy's little girl. You're smart, but you wouldn't last a day out there.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” I yelled, slamming the dish in my hand in the sink. “Stop making decisions for me like I am too stupid to take care of myself. I am your wife, not your kid!”

“Well, maybe if we had some you wouldn't be so restless!”

I turned away from the sink and scowled. “How dare you . . . have you considered that it might be you who has the issue, Rory? I got checked out. I'm fine. You want to talk about childish behavior? How about the fact that you refuse to get yourself looked at? Your stubbornness might be the reason this house has no children!”

I had done it. Delivered the grand blow. I spoke what had remained unspoken this entire time. Challenged his manhood.

“Lilly, you are such a bitch.” Rory sneered, his face glowering as if he could taste the bitterness of his own words.

I gasped like that word was a dagger that had stabbed me in the chest.

He paused for a moment, I could see the wheels turning in his inebriated brain, and then threw his hands up. “We're going to Minneapolis. I'm not discussing it.” Rory made a beeline for the front of the house and slammed the front door behind him. The car screeched out of the driveway.

I screamed in frustration, slamming my fists on the edge of the sink before turning to see Bobby standing at the entrance to the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping wet. His face wore a fixture of pity and disappointment. Rory had mostly been on his best behavior since Bobby had arrived, and this was the first time he had witnessed the ugliness that brewed in the walls of his house.

“You two are no good for each other,” he said, before turning and walking back to his room.

I didn't follow. It wasn't fair to seek his consolation about the brother I had chosen over him. I wouldn't make myself a wedge between them. I created this problem and I was going to have to find a way to solve it.

Seven Years Earlier

As the reception went on, I kept an eye out for Bobby. I hadn't seen him since his speech, but the property was vast, there were many guests, and I understood why he wouldn't want to see Rory and me. Yet something felt deeply unsettled. After those words he delivered, a eulogy to our love, I feared his absence signaled something more. What? I didn't know, but there was an empty feeling when he left the reception.

“Why don't you say we get some sleep?” Rory asked. I knew what that meant. Rory was like any other man, eager to consummate his marriage. The guests had filtered out, and the cabin which housed my bridal room was now ours for the night. The next day Rory and I would leave for our honeymoon.

“Sure. Where's Bobby? I never got the chance to thank him for his speech.”

“Who knows? There were a lot of girls and it's Bobby. He's probably having fun with one as we speak.”

I faked a smile to mask the sensation of being stabbed in the heart.

On that note, we headed into the cabin.

“I need to change,” I told Rory.

Rory grinned. “Okay, gorgeous.”