Falling For My Sister's Husband

The day Darcy decided she was marrying Caleb Ashford, she said it over breakfast like it was already done. Maren was right there. Eating cereal. Spoon halfway to her mouth. "We've been together two years," Darcy said. "It makes sense." Their mom looked up. "Has he asked?" "Not yet." Darcy cut her toast into neat squares. "But he will." Maren put her spoon down and said nothing. She never did when Darcy talked like that. He proposed in September. Darcy called Maren first. Her voice was different. Brighter. Real. "He did it," she said. "Maren. He actually did it." "That's amazing." Maren meant it. She did. "I'm so happy for you." She hung up and sat on her kitchen floor with her camera in her lap and stayed there a long time. She didn't cry. She didn't let herself think about why she almost did. The wedding was in October. Grey sky. Cold air. White flowers everywhere. Maren stood at the front of the church in a dress that fit perfectly because Darcy had picked it, holding a bouquet that was starting to hurt her hands she was gripping it so hard. The music started. Darcy came through the doors on their dad's arm and the whole room went soft. She was stunning. She knew it. Everyone knew it. Their dad was already crying. Maren smiled. She looked at Caleb. He was watching Darcy walk toward him. His face was still. His hands were clasped in front of him, knuckles tight. He swallowed once. Then Darcy reached him. Their dad put her hand in his. Caleb looked down at her hand. Then up at her face. He smiled. Slow. Like his face had to decide first. Maren looked away. *Do you, Caleb James Ashford, take this woman—* The room was so quiet. Maren stared at the altar flowers. Her bouquet was crushing her fingers. *—to love and to cherish, until death do you part?* Silence. One second. Two. "I do." She let out a breath. It's fine. A tiny pause. Men pause at weddings. It means nothing. She looked up — and Caleb was looking right at her. One second. Less. Then his eyes went back to Darcy. The ring came out. The vicar kept talking. But Maren felt it in her stomach like a step she didn't see coming. She looked back at the flowers and did not move her face. The reception was loud and full of people and she did everything right. She danced. She laughed. She gave a speech that made Darcy cry. At the end of the night she slipped outside for air. Sienna came and stood next to her. Neither of them talked for a while. Then Sienna said, "You okay?" "Yeah." "You sure?" "Don't." "I'm just—" "Sienna. Don't." Sienna looked at her. Long. Careful. "Okay," she said quietly. They stood in the cold and Maren looked at the street and told herself what she'd been telling herself all night. *It was nothing. You imagined it. Stop.* The door opened behind them. Warm light. Noise. And then Caleb's voice. "Darcy's looking for you." Maren turned around. He was in the doorway. Tie loose. Jacket on. He looked tired the way people look after the most important day of their lives. His eyes found hers. Stayed one second too long. "I'll be right in," she said. He nodded and went back inside. Sienna grabbed her arm. "Don't," Maren said again. "I didn't say anything." "Good." They went in. Maren did not look at him for the rest of the night. Eight months later her landlord sold her flat. She lost her biggest client. Two bad things at once. Darcy didn't even let her finish explaining. "You'll stay with us," she said. "End of." So now Maren was standing on their doorstep in Hampstead with two suitcases and nowhere else to go and her stomach was already doing things it had no business doing. She knocked. Footsteps. The door opened. Caleb stood there. Grey t-shirt. Tired eyes. A mug in his hand. He looked at her bags. Then at her face. And he said, "I was wondering when this would happen."