Free Love Sex & Other Games: Part 2 by Cheryl McIntyre Page B

and told me. He should have told Rosie. There should have been fair warning. And a fair chance. He stole that, and for that, he should feel like shit.
    “You truly are an asshole,” I reply. Like, a giant hemorrhoid-infested asshole. A six-pack may not be enough to handle this night.
    “What would it have changed?” he fires back, face pinking with anger. “What could have happened differently? You think she would have chosen not to be with me to spare your feelings?” He laughs, the sound patronizing and full of disdain. “You realize that doesn’t mean she’d have been with you, right?” He shakes his head at whatever he reads in my expression. Probably doubt. Maybe hope. I really can’t say. There’s too much storming through my head—like a tornado or a tsunami. It’s overwhelming and unwanted. A six-pack is definitely not going to be enough.
    “She wouldn’t have been with you, Cooper. She wouldn’t have done that to me. The only options were neither of us, and all three of us miserable, or one of us, and two of us happy.”
    “And one of us— me —miserable.” I say the part he doesn’t.
    “Stop condemning me for realizing what needed to be done and for doing what you didn’t have the balls to do.”
    Ouch.
    Have you ever been so pissed off that your body almost goes numb? Like the spike of adrenaline anesthetizes every cell. This wave of false calm washes over me and I finally say what’s been on my mind for years.
    “I didn’t realize there was a choice to be made between us because you ,” I jab the air in his direction, “weren’t man enough to tell me you loved her too. Why is that, Miles? Were you that afraid to even the playing field? That scared I would tell her how I felt about her first—how I’ve always felt about her—and she would choose me?”
    He doesn’t reply, and it’s all the answer I need.
    “Because,” I continue, “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have done that to you.” I sink back into the couch cushion and finish off the last of my drink, wishing I had something a little stronger. “Not back then, anyway, not before I knew what it felt like to lose everything I wanted before I ever had it.”
    “A lot happened after you left for college,” he says, his tone almost pleading now. “I didn’t plan it. Without you there, it was only Rosie and me, and it just happened. Naturally. I didn’t force it. Hell, Coop, I tried to ignore it. I just couldn’t . You weren’t the only one who loved her all your life. And when I knew she loved me too… I had to tell her how I felt…” He trails off and I’m glad he does. It gives me a moment to squash the painful pang that forms over hearing those words.
    I’m not sure there are many things worse than hearing how much the person you love loves someone else.
    “I can’t regret her,” he utters. “Please stop asking me to.”
    I never asked him to regret her . He’ll never get it. You don’t regret love. You regret hurting those you love. And he doesn’t. I’m not sure he’s even capable.
    “It wasn’t just you and Rosie,” I say. It’s not the response I planned to give. It just slips past my lips.
    Miles cocks his head in confusion and I keep going.
    “It was Rosie, and you, and Emerson.”
    He’s still confused, not understanding where I’m going with this and honestly, I have no idea either.
    “And then, when Rosie went off to college, there was that year when it was just you and Emerson.”
    He lifts his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Okay?”
    “Why not her?” I don’t mean he should have left Rosie for me and gone after Em. I just really want to know how he missed the incredible person she is. “She was a sophomore while you were a senior—you went to the same school. She lived across the street from you. Why didn’t you ever look her way?”
    He raises his brows skeptically, his left eyelid twitching. “Why didn’t I look at my girlfriend’s sister? What kind of fucking question