Virtually Impossible (Once and Forever #2)

  Carson finally looked away from me and toward her. “Actually, I wasn't trying to fool you, babe. I was trying to fool him. So he wouldn't figure out that I was about to call him on some shit he might not want you to hear. But thanks for the relationship clarification.”

  “Oops.” Laney stammered for a second then nodded once. “I'm going to go get us…some fresh beers.” She grabbed Carson's wallet and walked into the restaurant toward the bar.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, I threw my hands up. “What do you want to know, little brother?”

  “I want to know what the fuck is going on with my big brother. So talk. Who is she?”

  “She's no one.”

  “She's obviously someone.”

  I paused, looking for a quick way out of the conversation, not sure if I wanted a way out. Carson was as close to a confidante as I’d ever had. Until Laney had come along, I would never have thought to discuss women with him, primarily because Carson’s only experience with them was sexual. For the past few years, my only experience with them was…not sexual. Wow, I needed help.

  “Waiting. Impatiently.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Yes, Sira is someone. She's someone I…I see everywhere.”

  “Fuck, man.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What about Clare? You just gonna give that up?”

  “Wait a minute. Now you’ve decided you can judge me? You've been fucking up for twenty-five years, doing whatever you want whenever you want to.”

  “Exactly,” he said, nodding. “I was fucking up. Now that I have something good, I would never do anything that could blow it.”

  “That's the thing, little brother. I don't have anything good. I've never had anything good.”

  He grimaced but didn’t argue. We had the same father, the same mother, and we’d kept the same secrets growing up.

  But I had one even he didn’t know about. I’d been there when our father died. I was there, and I could’ve stopped it from happening. But I hadn’t. Every day since, I’d played by the rules, did the right thing, lived a life I didn’t want, all to make up for that one moment.

  “And you think this thing with Sira is good?” Carson asked.

  “There is no ‘thing with Sira.’ I’ve never even met her. And I never will.” I laughed at myself. “But it’s as if I see her everywhere.”

  “So she’s what? A webcam girl?” He misunderstood my shocked silence as a need for clarification. “You know, the women who strip and pretend they like having a bunch of hairy, old men jerking off to them.”

  “I know what a webcam girl is, Carson. I was just trying to figure out why you’d think I’d be that delusional.” Then again, I guess it wasn’t that much of a stretch. I sighed. “I don't even know what Sira looks like, but every time I hear a woman laugh, I look over and wonder if it’s her.”

  He glanced in the direction Laney had gone. “Look, Hay, I don’t want to judge.”

  “You mean any more than you already are?”

  “Right,” he said emotionless. “But honestly, on my list of things I’d rather never do, imagining my brother getting naked with anyone is pretty close to the top.”

  “Above or below imagining me jerking off to a webcam girl?”

  “Below, but just barely.” He shook his head as if to get rid of any and all images that might have appeared. “I don’t know the details, but it’s hard to miss how weird you and Clare’s relationship is. You act more like brother and sister, but not in the inbred, freaky, ‘I’m my own grandpa’ kind of way.”

  “Good, because I was really worried about that,” I grumbled. “Do you have a point, Carson?”

  “Get a divorce.”

  It was my turn to grimace. “I can’t do that. Clare needs…” She didn’t need me, but she needed someone.

  “Clare’s a beautiful girl with a big trust fund. She’ll be just fine. And you’re a big boy, although how big I don’t want to know.” He clenched his eyes and growled, shaking his fist. “Okay, I did it to myself that time. Eww. Seriously, tell me you don’t have a dick so I can picture you as a Ken doll.”

  “I worry about you.” When he didn’t open his eyes, I said, “Fine. I’m—” No, I couldn’t do it. “Carson, I have a penis. A big one. So get over it.”

  “No way! Ken doll. You’re a Ken doll. Okay, I got it.” He opened one eye and smiled, looking exactly as he had when he was a little kid before I’d been sent off to boarding school. When things were simple and easy, and the only unpredictable thing in our lives was our father’s temper.

  “Are you going to judge me or not?”

  “Yes! I mean, no. I mean… Aw, shit. You said something to me, not too long ago, when I was being an idiot. Now I’m going to say the same thing to you, only with more finesse, and possibly a dirty joke.”

  “Can you at least wait until I’ve had another drink before you massacre whatever wisdom I shared with you?”

  “No. I gotta say this before Laney gets back. You ready?” He bounced his shoulders up and down a few times. “Here it comes.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “Someday, someone’s gonna come along who you never saw coming. She’s going to throw you a rope and, if you don’t catch it, she’s gonna go full-on cowgirl and hogtie your ass.”

  I cracked up. “I really can’t imagine myself saying anything like that.”

  “Shut up and listen for a second, will you?”

  I flinched at the anger in his tone.

  “Just…” He paused, his gaze pleading. “I was there too, Hay. With Dad. I felt it, all of it, and it fucking hurt. Still hurts sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry.” Guilt raised its giant foot over my head and stamped down as hard as it could. I wondered if anyone else felt the earth shake. “I should’ve been there for you, little brother.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” he scoffed. “You should’ve stayed the hell away and not come home during school breaks. I wouldn’t have. You weren’t responsible for me. You weren’t responsible for any of it. Fuck, I was the one who said no when you turned eighteen and asked me to come live with you. I was the one dumb enough to think I could ‘fix’ Renee. So stop thinking that shit. Yesterday.” He took a well-deserved breath. “Now, where was I before you ruined my big moment?”

  I’d forgotten how good he was at finding something to make fun of no matter how bad the situation. “It still hurts.”

  “Right, okay, give me a sec to get my dramatic mojo back.” Another breath. “Okay, got it. Yeah, our home life sucked ass, and we both dealt with it in our own way. I watched you, Hayden.” Any hint of humor was gone from his voice. “It took me a while, but I finally figured out that the only way you could make it stop hurting was to turn everything off—all your feelings and hopes and...”

  He swallowed. “I get all that. But the bastard has been gone for a decade, and you still haven’t come back, still haven’t woken up. It’s like you’re doing the eternal sleep thing with him, and who the fuck would want to sleep next to that prick?” He took a breath and smiled. I couldn’t breathe, but I did start to process what he’d said. And every word rang true.

  It had been easier to stop feeling anything, and it still was. Except, after the pain I’d been trying to control no longer existed, a life built from it did. My way of coping was to slowly suffocate my chance at happiness.

  “If this woman—Sira?” Carson waited until I made eye contact and nodded. “If Sira can make you feel something again, don’t let her get away. Let her in. Because if you don’t, if you play dead and just pretend to be alive, I don’t know if you’ll ever come back.”

  It was getting late, which meant the bar was filling and the noise was growing, but my brother and I sat there in silence for a little while.

  “Wow.” I cleared my throat. “I’m a lot smarter than I give myself credit for. You sure I said that?”

  “No, yours wasn’t nearly that impressive,” he said, his grin growing. “But
the general idea was the same.”

  “Did I make a weird face afterward like you’re doing right now?”

  “What weird face?” he asked, brushing his hair back. “Screw you. I don’t have a weird face. I have a great face.”

  “You’re right. Mine is just greater.”

  We laughed and lobbed insults until we saw Laney watching us intently through the restaurant window. Carson held out his hand toward her. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I hope she and Sira get along well. Because it would suck if they didn’t, brother.” That simple statement, said by a man who’d fought so hard not to fall in love but who’d ended up there anyway, was more powerful than anything I could ever tell myself or deny.

  Whatever could or couldn’t happen between Sira and me, she was the only one who’d made me feeling anything in a long time—annoying brother and his endearing girlfriend aside. Without even trying, she’d given me something to hope for. So I’d be stupid not to take the gift.

  When I got home, the house was as quiet as normal, but it had never bothered me before. Carson’s words had been bouncing around in my mind since I’d left the happy couple. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. Unfortunately, I was still no closer to knowing what to do about it.

  But as one of my grad school professors used to say… ‘Those who refuse to go to the table before they’ve come up with a foolproof plan are the fools who come to an empty table.’

  I got a drink before sitting down on the couch and texting Sira. ‘I’d like to meet you. In person.’

  Her response took a while. ‘What for?’

  Because… ‘Because I’d like to meet you outside of work.’

  ‘That’s not a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’d rather not go into it.’ Her next message had popped up before I had a chance to respond. ‘How about we discuss something different? Something work related.’

  ‘Did I offend you?’

  ‘Oh please. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want to offend me.’

  ‘I don’t.’ I typed.

  ‘Don’t what?’

  Don’t want to talk about work. Don’t want to pretend. Don’t want this to stop, whatever it is and no matter how wrong. ‘Don’t want to offend you. But I’d still like to know why you don’t want to meet.’

  …

  I watched the gray bubbles that signaled she was typing. Then they stopped, but no new text appeared. So I waited as long as I had the patience for—probably close to thirty seconds. ‘Sira?’

  ‘Because you’re very married and very nice, and I am very not married and not nearly as nice.’

  Oh. That wasn’t what I was hoping those bubbles meant. ‘You’re much nicer than I am.’

  ‘Is there anything else you need from me tonight?’

  ‘To meet you.’ Then I added, ‘Although, it doesn’t have to be tonight.’

  Wow, the bubbles kept going and going. Again, I was disappointed by their efforts.

  ‘Maybe I’m not explaining myself clearly enough. If we met, there’s a good chance I would embarrass myself. There’s another chance, albeit a much, much smaller one, that you would do something you’d regret. Either way, meeting each other would be bad. Do you understand?’

  No. And yes. I understood, but I couldn’t accept it. ‘Meeting=bad. Talking still good?’

  ‘Even though you type like a first grader, I suppose so.’

  ‘Good.’ Not good enough, but I’d give it time.

  ‘Do you have anything else you need me to work on?’

  I sat back in my chair and sighed. “Help me find a way out of my marriage.”

  11

  Hayden

  I had a lot of other things I should have been doing, but then, I always had a lot of things I should be doing. And I did them—days, nights, weekends. Not a day went by without doing those damn things I was supposed to do. Except today.

  Today, I was busy with something else. Since I’d arrived at the office at eight this morning, I’d done nothing but stare at my desktop computer, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. The thing was almost a year old and had only been used a half-dozen times until three weeks ago. Any day now, the letters were going to start fading off the keys from too much use. And there was only one reason. Because I couldn’t control myself.

  I clicked the little chat icon and selected the only name it contained, noting the tiny green dot that indicated that she was at her computer. I was running out of work for her. She was fast and thorough, as if she did nothing else. That would be unfortunate. Just because I did it, didn’t mean anyone else should. Although, I hoped for her sake that she accomplished more than I was currently capable of.

  ‘Am I giving you too much to do?’ I sat back and waited. Maybe she’d just left her computer on and wasn’t there.

  ‘No. Why do you ask?’ she answered instantly. Did she sleep next to it?

  ‘I don’t want to overburden you.’

  ‘Bring it on, Hayden.’

  I smiled as I typed, ‘You’ve just asked for a challenge I’m not sure you’re up to facing.’

  ‘I think I can take it.’

  But could I? ‘No one else ever has.’

  ‘What happened to your old assistant?’

  ‘I buried her in the backyard.’ I pressed send and then typed, ‘Only kidding—I don’t have a backyard.’

  ‘Are you amusing yourself right now?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ In a way new to me. Hayden Bennett didn’t ‘chat’ or smile or enjoy much of anything. He worked. Everything else was either secondary or nonexistent. And the thinking in third person thing needed to stop yesterday. What was wrong with him…me…? Oh, Christ. This was rapidly approaching stupid, if it wasn’t already there.

  ‘Are you going to answer my question?’ Her question? Oh right, my previous assistant.

  ‘Natasha is on maternity leave. And because I know you’ll ask—the baby’s not mine.’ I sat back again, wondering why I’d written that. Another thing that I didn’t do was worry about what others thought of me. It was a useless pastime that only encouraged a person’s confidence to slip. But now I cared about what a person I’d never actually met or seen thought of me. And I wanted her to care about what I thought of her. The idea bothered me. But instead of pushing it away like I should’ve, I considered it. Wanted to explore its cause and ramifications, if only to understand the dynamics. In a business sense…primarily.

  Definitely stupid.

  ‘Ha. That’s not what I was going to ask.’

  I swallowed, understanding what she wanted to know. ‘I have no intention of getting rid of you, Sira. In the backyard or otherwise.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Not necessary. I enjoy your work almost as much as I enjoy our chats.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I felt my heart start to beat faster, felt the muscles of my chest tighten. It was a foreign, but also welcome, sensation. Carson’s advice rang in my ears, along with his bizarre cowgirl analogy.

  ‘But we probably shouldn’t chat so much.’

  I blinked, then re-read the words. Our chats were the best part of my days. I didn’t want them to end. ‘If it’s a matter of your time, I’ll compensate you.’

  ‘Doesn’t it seem a little insincere if you pay me to chat with you?’

  ‘You forgot to add ‘fairly pathetic.’’ Thankfully, it was possible to laugh and type at the same time. ‘But I don’t want to take up time you would otherwise use to earn an income.’

  ‘You could always pay me more for the time I work for you.’

  I laughed. ‘Excellent idea! How much am I paying you now? Whatever it is, increase it.’

  ‘Wow. I’m surprised you’ve gotten so successful if you’ll trust someone you barely know to set the price.’

  ‘Do I barely know you, Sira?’

  I waited for her response. When it didn’t come imm
ediately—as it usually did—I wondered if I’d pushed too far. So I typed, ‘Plus I have great lawyers who will hunt you down if your next check is written out for a million and change. Although, by then, I suppose you could’ve fled to a country with no extradition.’

  ‘I pick Bora Bora.’

  Of all places, why that one? Clare and I had gone to Bora Bora for our honeymoon. I’d chosen it because the sound of the island’s name had a certain humor to it, and it was far away from our regular lives. Back then, I was naive enough to think the distance would allow us to have an honest and open conversation, even after the point of no return. It didn’t happen. Clare had been even more reserved, and there was nothing I could do about it. Our marriage was a legal confirmation that she’d never have what she truly wanted, could never be who she truly was. I understood her disappointment, although it was still hard not to take a little personally.

  So we’d spent a week in paradise thousands of miles away from our families, and still thousands of miles away from who we were. Neither of us where we wanted to be or with the person we were meant to be with. Not that I’d ever actually thought there was someone I was meant to be with.

  ‘Have you been to Bora Bora?’ I asked.

  ‘No. But I like the name. It’s fun to say.’

  ‘It’s also beautiful. Peaceful.’ And with the right person, probably extremely romantic. ‘You should go.’

  ‘As soon as I get that million dollar check.’

  ‘But I would know where you’d gone and could find you.’

  ‘True. I’ll have to check on their extradition laws. I think I’ll take off early so I can plan my escape.’ Escape. That sounded perfect.

  I paused, wanting to say something I shouldn’t even think. But I still had no idea what she looked like, only knowing her voice, her wit, and her intelligence. I really wanted to see her smile.

  Because she was so comfortable with technology, I imagined her to be young, a bit younger than me. But apart from that, I couldn’t imagine. Well, yes I could imagine. I imagined all the time. Another new occurrence in my life—daydreaming.

  In my mind, she was pretty but not beautiful, average height, not particularly thin or particularly large. Yes, I wanted to meet her. Very much. If only to see if I was right. Right. If that were the sole reason, I might have been able to stop myself from typing what I did next.