Chapter Two

           Rory was dicing tomatoes when a pair of strong arms encircled her from behind and drew her back to a granite-hard chest. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth when her husband’s dark head swooped down and rained kisses all over her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes and indulged in the sensation of having Sam’s arms wrapped around her body. She could be blindfolded and air-dropped into a crowd of a hundred men, and she would unerringly hone in on Samuel H. Kelly. She turned in his embrace and kissed him full on the mouth.

           “Hello, pretty lady,” he murmured against her lips. “How was your day today?”

           “Eh.” She slid her arms around his neck and nuzzled his chin. “How was work?”

           “Could have been better.” He kissed her forehead. “How did it go with the agent? Did you find anything good?”

           “She showed us a couple of spots along El Camino Real, but Suzie didn’t like either of them because of bad ju-ju or something.” She rolled her eyes, and Sam laughed indulgently. He was well-aware of Suzie’s idiosyncrasies. She and Suzie had been best friends since college.  “But then she brought Suzie and me to this absolutely perfect spot on the corner of Calabasas and Commons. I thought, ‘Okay, this is it, this is the place, it’s right next to the movie theater, and inside a mini-mall, it’s perfect,’ and then I look across the street and there’s a Starbucks. How can I build a coffee place across the street from a Starbucks?”

           “But it’ll be your coffee place. Starbucks won’t have your special brownies and your cookies and your absolutely fabulous cupcakes.” He punctuated his point with a kiss on the tip of her nose.

           “You’re totally right, of course, my cupcakes are absolutely fabulous.  But I told the agent I’ll think about it and get back to her. Suzie wanted to sign the papers on the spot. I had to practically wrestle the woman to calm her down. The agent must have been salivating!” She kissed his chin and reluctantly pulled away from him, or there wouldn’t be dinner on the table. Even after eight years of marriage, she could still gaze into his eyes all day and lose all track of time. The man was a menace on her schedule. She pushed an apron at him and directed him to the sink. “Now, wash some lettuce.”

           “After a hard day’s work extracting various items from the nostrils of toddlers and sewing up rambunctious little kids, I’m forced into slave labor for my own dinner,” he grumbled, slipping on the apron. “Sunny called while I was driving home, by the way. She and her new guy should be here in two hours.”

           “Two hours?” Rory’s hands flew to her hair. Crap, she had no time to finish dinner preparations, take a shower, and straighten her hair. She had worked for an hour on it this morning before heading out with Suzie, and yet by noon, her ironed locks had reverted to the tight corkscrew curls that made her look like a brown-skinned Orphan Annie when she was a kid. Damn the humidity!

           “Baby, your hair is gorgeous. In fact, you look wonderful just the way you are right now,” Sam said as though he had read her mind. “And not that I don’t appreciate your charms at the moment, but you should probably change out of your sweats. You wouldn’t want Sunny’s boyfriend to swallow his tongue when he sees you, do you?”

           Rory looked down at herself. She was still wearing the t-shirt and sweats she had slipped on after her afternoon with Suzie. Her favorite UCSD shirt was practically threadbare from years of repeated washings, and since she had gained about fifteen pounds since her college days, the fabric was stretched tight over her boobs. And her sweatpants had a hole the size of a quarter right below her left butt cheek. She had meant to take a shower before Sam got home, but then her mother called and kept her on the phone for an hour, griping about her little sister, and she just didn’t get around to it. God, no wonder Jim had stared at her like she was a crazy beggar woman who had wandered into the house from the street. She really had to keep in mind that she and Sam were no longer a twosome in their home and dress accordingly.

           “Anything I can do to help?”

           Jim was standing at the archway looking clean and fresh in a pair of dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved button-down plaid shirt with a white tee peeking where he had left it unbuttoned at the neck. His short mahogany hair was mussed as though he had not bothered to run a comb through it, and a tiny white spot that looked like toothpaste lingered on the corner of his lush mouth. His laid-back appearance was such a sharp contrast to Sam’s, who looked like he had just stepped out of the cover of GQ even after spending eight hours at the clinic. It was almost hard to believe they were brothers. But having identical blue eyes and lopsided grins, the two couldn’t be anything but. Rory looked at Jim’s bare feet and, for a moment, could only stare at his big toe.

           “Yes, thank you, Jim.” She cleared her throat and smiled at him. “Go help your brother cut vegetables for the salad. I’m going to take a shower.”

           Jim’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he nodded and walked toward the sink. Rory passed him on her way out of the kitchen and couldn’t stop the hand that reached up and swiped the glob of toothpaste from his face. She wiped it off on her sweatpants, winked at the brothers, and exited through the archway.

           She and Sam bought this house five years ago intending to fill it up with children. She came from a large Chinese-Puerto Rican family of six kids plus her Puerto Rican mother and Chinese father. Rory had always enjoyed the boisterous but happy gatherings at supper and the way her mother would complain about serving so many people while secretly loving it. When she decided to marry Sam, she knew he would make the perfect father for her future niños pequeños. He was kind, considerate, and best of all, he loved children.

           But after seven years of trying with no results, Rory was beginning to lose hope. Her older sister Maria had four kids of her own, while her baby sister Kai had three. She and Sam had consulted with a couple of fertility specialists and discovered nothing wrong with either of their reproductive systems. They have discussed adoption, and while Sam was all for it, Rory wanted a child of her own. Maybe a little girl with her smile and dimples and Sam’s thick, straight hair. It was selfish, she knew. Many unwanted babies in the world needed a loving home, but she wanted to experience pregnancy and carry her own child.

           She pulled the t-shirt over her head and stepped out of her sweats, dumping them in the hamper.   Staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror, she frowned. Her best friend Suzy, a psychotherapist, had asked if she was so gung-ho about her cupcake palace to fulfill the hole in her life where children should be. She had threatened to hit Suzy with her shoe if the woman didn’t stop trying to analyze her. 

           She had always wanted to work for herself, to own a business, and since she was a damned good baker, she figured a coffee shop where she could serve her pastries would be brilliant. It was not like she planned to sink all of her time and energy into the café so she could avoid coming home to a house with no children. That was just... sad.

           She chuckled to herself and stepped under the shower, letting the pleasantly warm water sluice over her thick, curly hair and body. She was happy with herself. She and Sam had a great marriage, they lived in a beautiful house most people could only dream of, and she was on the verge of becoming a small business owner. Her life was incredible.

           And yet if she had to be completely honest to herself, she got a little lonely, too. It was the reason why she was grateful Jim was always underfoot. He was another person to talk to, laugh with, and take care of. She sometimes missed her little brothers who lived in San Francisco with her parents, and Jim reminded her a lot of Gregorio, a third-year student at UC Berkley. Greggy was a musician, too, and often joked about becoming the first lawyer to argue his briefs in song.

           Not that her feelings for Jim had been so sisterly lately. Jim was a very handsome guy, and she wasn’t blind. Last week, Jim and his friend Hector had played HORSE basketball in the backyard, and sometime during the game, the two of them had lost their shirts, and Rory could only watch through the window completely agog. Jim was leaner than his brother; wiry but muscled. His biceps, slick with sweat, flexed as he posed and aimed for a jump shot. His friend Hector, on the other hand, was built like a boxer. Compact and solid. He also had that arrogant, macho Latin thing that she never really found attractive, but it was charming on him. That night, she had a very torrid dream featuring Jim, his friend, a gallon of ice cream, and herself. She had woken up gasping for air and disoriented. Since Sam had been out of town at a conference, she’d had no choice but to take a freezing shower in the middle of the night to cool herself down. In the morning, she couldn’t look Jim in the eye without stuttering and blushing.

           When she confessed the whole sordid affair to Suzy, her friend gleefully chuckled and told her it was normal. Fantasies and dreams, she said, were all fine and good as long as Rory didn’t act on them. If Rory told herself it was wrong and forced herself not to think about Jim in such a way, her rebellious mind would do the opposite, and it would be worse for her. Suzy had compared it to trying to forget a song that was stuck in your head. The harder you tried to get rid of it, the more stubbornly it held on. Her advice to Rory was to indulge herself mentally. As long as she didn’t tell Sam about it.

           Which was why it seemed so wrong. She and Sam had never kept anything from each other. They had been together for ten years, and she had never lied to him. While she was madly in love with her husband, she couldn’t deny the s****l attraction she had for Jim. He was sexy, outgoing... and damaged. He was precisely the kind of guy she went for in college until she realized how stupid it was. When a nerdy, but cute pre-med student who followed her around for weeks, finally got the courage to ask her out, she said yes. He didn’t smoke or drink. He ironed his jeans. But he was funny and kind and sincere. Her friends made fun of her for dating a geek, but she didn’t care. She liked Sam and soon enough, fell in love with him.

           She was shampooing her hair when the door to the shower stall opened, and her husband stark-naked husband walked in. Her arms slid around his neck, and she willingly tipped her head back as he began to nuzzle her throat even as she moaned that they had no time. Sam chuckled against her skin and molded his large hands over the curve of her butt.

           “All right, querido, make it quick,” she murmured against his lips.

           He responded by capturing her mouth with his and plunging his tongue inside. At the same time, he placed his hands on her hips and hoisted her up against the glass. Rory gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist when he ducked his head and captured her n****e with his mouth. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him up for a kiss as he slowly but forcefully eased himself into her body.

           Though Rory had warned her husband that they had no time, their lovemaking was languorous and indulgent. She couldn’t get enough of Sam, kissing and licking every part of his body within reach of her mouth and tongue. Her fingers dug into his back while Sam thrust in and out of her. When her orgasm hit, she became so dizzy and weak that she would have slid to the floor if Sam hadn’t been holding her. She came again as Sam pushed into her one more time and groaned, his hands closing around the tops of her thighs.

           “I love you, Aurora.” He nuzzled her neck and bit her earlobe. “I will always love you.”

           As if her bone-melting orgasm wasn’t enough, Rory felt herself turn to a puddle at Sam’s husky declaration. She cupped his face between his hands, blinked the tears that had sprung to her eyes, and kissed him soundly on the lips. “And I love you, Samuel Kelly.”

           They finished their shower and dried each other lovingly, smiling at each other like smitten fools. As she watched her husband pull on a pair of boxers, Rory felt a familiar stab of irrational fear. She was so happy with Sam that sometimes she wondered if it was too good to be true. Suzie had told her that her Catholic upbringing couldn’t allow her to believe that anyone could be this happy, and Rory knew that her kooky best friend was right. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe that a guy like Sam could be in love with her. She wasn’t super smart or savvy; she wasn’t beautiful. What if Sam took one look at her one day and decided he didn’t want her anymore? And then there were days when she feared the worst. She didn’t know what she would do if something horrible were to happen to Sam. She didn’t want to imagine it. If Sam were to leave or die, she was afraid she wouldn’t survive it.

           Her mother’s sister Maria had the third eye. Everyone said she could tell the future. Maybe she had it, too.

           She hugged her terrycloth robe to herself and forced herself to smile when she met Sam’s inquiring eyes in the bathroom mirror.

           “What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked, his face darkening with concern. “Are you feeling okay? We can scrap the enchiladas idea and just order pizza if you’re too tired to cook.”

           “I’m fine.” She pushed off from the wall and whipped the towel off from her head. “I don’t have time to straighten my hair, but I can still make the enchiladas. They’re Jim’s favorites, you know. I think he’s really looking forward to them.”

           “Jim will be happy to eat pizza if you put it in front of him.” Sam tugged her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re always worrying about everybody else, Rory. If you’re tired, you’re tired. And stop fussing with your hair, will you? I think it looks beautiful either way.”

           She looked deep into his eyes and felt a surge of affection for him. She was an i***t. Nothing was going to happen to Sam. She kissed his cheek, and playfully pushed him away. “Come on, pal. Get dressed and help me out in the kitchen.”

           Sam obliged her, quickly pulling on clothes and mussing her hair before leaving her alone so she could finish dressing. She faced herself in the mirror and grabbed a fistful of her wet, curly mane. There was nothing to be done about it now. When she was a little girl, there was an epidemic of head lice at her elementary school, and she had been the unlucky recipient of cooties. Her ever-practical mother cut off all her hair and scrubbed her scalp clean with all the brands of lice shampoo she could find at the drugstore. Until her hair grew back, the kids at school taunted her every day and called her Q-tip. 

           Why couldn’t she have been born with thick, stick-straight hair like her older sister, Eleanor?  Ellie didn’t have to spend hours on her hair. She just washed and combed it, then went on with her day. Not that her older sister had much time to mess with her hair these days. She had three kids, after all, and another one on the way.

           With a sigh, Rory picked up a bottle of mousse, squeezed a dollop on her palm, and finger-combed it into her hair, scrunching up bunches of it in her fists to give it a tousled look. She could at least make it more Rosie Perez, less Rick James. After she’d given up on her hair, she put on a deep coral lipstick, which matched her skin tone, and dusted some blush on her cheeks. The clock told her she’d been messing around in front of the mirror longer than she thought. She panicked. She didn’t even know what she was going to wear.  She darted into the walk-in closet she shared with Sam, grabbed the emerald-green jersey mini-dress she had just picked up from the dry-cleaner, and paired it up with black tights since it was almost indecently short. It was a dress that Sam really enjoyed, and she usually would have worn it by itself, but with Jim living in the house and Sunny and her new boyfriend coming over, she couldn’t risk accidentally flashing her chonies to someone who wasn’t her husband.

           She put on her gold hoop earrings as she walked into the kitchen in black espadrilles. Sam, drinking what looked like a margarita, and Jim, chopping up cucumbers on the center island and had a glass of milk next to him, looked up with appreciation in their identical blue eyes. Sam’s heated gaze, which he raked over her from head to toe, sent a bolt of lust through her. If the two of them had been alone, she would have tackled him to the ground and had her wicked way with him. Jim’s perusal of her was much more casual. At the sight of her, he appeared pole-axed for a moment, then his eyes slid back to the cucumbers as though he suddenly found them very interesting. Rory’s traitorous body responded to his attention, intrigued by his discomfort. He was a damn fine-looking man. To assuage her guilt, she focused on her husband. She sidled up to him, picked up his drink, and as she took a sip, played with the buttons of his shirt.

           “Needs more tequila,” she told her husband with a wink.

           Sam stared at her lips and grinned. “Is that right?”

           “You better believe it.” Reluctantly, she handed him back his drink and put on her apron. “Okay, let’s figure out what else needs to be done. Shredded cheese?”

           Sam held up a bowl of shredded cheddar and jack cheese. “Check.”

           “Chopped tomatoes, onions, and lettuce?”

           Sam pointed to the small mound of chopped vegetables in front of Jim, who appeared to be avoiding her gaze. “Check.”

           “Did you pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees?”

           Her husband gave her a look. “How many times have I assisted you in the enchilada-making process?”

           Rory held up her hands in surrender. “All right, all right, Mr. Know-it-all.”

           “That’s Dr. Know-it-all,” Jim muttered next to her.

           Chuckling, Rory turned to her brother-in-law and tugged on his sleeve. “How are you doing over there with the salad, champ?”

           “Shit.”

           “What?”

           Rory looked down and gasped when she saw blood welling up through Jim’s knuckles. “Oh my God, how did you manage that?” She yanked the hand towel hanging from the oven handle and wrapped it around his injured hand.

           “I didn’t get it on the vegetables,” he said apologetically, his brow furrowing in concern.

           She led him to the kitchen sink, unwrapped the hand, and thrust it under a stream of cold water. “Honey, don’t worry about the vegetables.” She washed off the blood and inspected it. The cut looked shallow enough, but it hadn’t stopped bleeding. “You might need a stitch or two.”

           Her husband gently nudged her aside. “Here, let me take a look at that.” He had some paper towel in his hand, which he used to wipe away the blood that instantly welled up again. “Nah, he doesn’t need stitches. Just keep pressure on it for a bit. Jim’s a tough guy. He’s not going to bleed to death. A little cut won’t kill him.” He grinned at his brother.

           Rory glowered at him for being so insensitive, but Sam only pushed up his glasses along the bridge of his nose and kept his smile. “Can you take care of the vegetables, Dr. Kelly? I’m just going to dress your brother’s wound.”

           “It’s not a big deal, Rory. Look, I think it’s stopped bleeding!” Jim held up his hand, which was covered in a crumpled, blood-soaked paper towel.

           “Rory…” said Sam.

           “Shut up and chop some vegetables, Sam,” Rory muttered, suddenly annoyed with her husband. She sometimes wondered if Sam even realized that his brother needed looking after.  At the rehab facility where Jim was staying, the head therapist told her that Jim could only flourish in a nurturing, caring environment. He needed to know that people gave a s**t about him. She pushed him toward the kitchen table and ordered him to sit on a chair.

           “He’s not a little boy, Aurora,” said Sam with a slight edge to his tone.

           “Guys, it’s not a big deal,” Jim protested, looking embarrassed.

           Rory glared at both of them, but said nothing as she left the kitchen to grab the first-aid kit from the guest bathroom. When she returned, the brothers were looking at each other, as though they could communicate telepathically. She cleared her throat, and the two men suddenly found other things to look at. She glanced at her husband first, then at her brother-in-law, before she sat down and took Jim’s injured hand.

           “This is so stupid,” said Jim.

           Rory ignored him, but she noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath when she put his hand on the table and bent her head to examine his cut. She had to admit that her own pulse began to race as soon as she touched him. And though she knew she was playing with fire, she couldn’t help but touch him these days: sweeping his hair out of his face, rubbing his back, smacking him lightly on the arm or on the stomach―his rigid, firm stomach―whenever he said anything remotely funny. It was crazy. Suzie said it would be the worst idea ever for her to tell Sam about what she’d been feeling, but maybe if she talked it out, if she said it out loud, this crazy crush she had for her husband’s younger brother would go away.

           She cleaned his cut with an alcohol pad, slathered anti-bacterial ointment on it, and covered it with a band-aid. “All done,” she announced lightly, giving him a smile. At his frown, the devil in her prodded her to say, “What, do you want me to kiss it better?”

           “Uh, no. I don’t need your germs all over it.” He yanked his hand back and scooted his chair away to put more distance between them. “Thanks. I’m... I’m gonna prepare the guest room in case Sunny wants to stay the night.”

           “You don’t need to coddle him, Aurora,” said Sam as soon as Jim was out of the kitchen. “He’s a grown man. You can be his friend, you can even be his sister, but he doesn’t need a mother. Jim needs to sort some things out, and he won’t be able to do that if you smother him.”

           Since what she’d been feeling for Jim was anything but familial, Rory avoided her husband’s eyes. She made her way back to the island, finished preparing the enchiladas, and stuck the casserole into the oven.

           “Rory? We need to be a united front on this. While I agree that Jim needs us, we need to set boundaries. Otherwise, he’ll never learn to take care of himself and come to us for every little thing he needs.”

           Not that he'd ever asked them for anything in the nine weeks he'd lived here. Jim had been the perfect roommate so far. He cleaned after himself, didn't borrow money, and stayed in his room most of the time reading. “Okay, Sam, you’re right. I’ll stop trying to baby Jim.”

           Her husband nodded, but there was something in his eyes that said he didn’t quite buy her acquiescence. They worked in companionable silence. Rory made appetizers while Sam set the dinner table. As she was mashing up avocado for the guacamole, she glanced up at her husband, who was laying white napkins she had earlier folded into swans on top of the plates. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t figure out how to verbalize her feelings. She closed her mouth. He was the best husband in the world, and she loved him very much, and yet here she was, nursing a crush on his brother. She was quite possibly a terrible person.

           Sam met her gaze. “You okay, honey? Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you a glass of wine, huh?”

           “That might be nice.” Rory accepted the reprieve. She’d call Suzie in the morning and talk it out some more. Maybe her best friend could come up with a solution for it. “I might have inhaled a little too much oven cleaner today. I’m a bit dizzy.”