"Yes, Kate. I love him."
Straightening in her chair, she struggles to tell me in a low voice, "I say this because I love you, and also because I've known you forever. But, I've got to ask. Are you certain, without any doubt, Myles isn't a stand-in for who you still really want?"
"Stop," I insist tersely, and then continue to be sure she gets me. "I'm not marrying Myles because he's second to anyone, especially Chase."
Chase Morgan is Myles's older brother. And although related by blood, the two of them couldn't be any more different. Chase is eight years older than Myles and me. He's quiet, only speaking when spoken to. He wears a cast-iron guard around him which makes him seemingly unapproachable. Aside from a few years when I was very young, that's how I've always remembered him to be.
Unlike Myles, Chase is rough around the edges. His idea of dressing up is deciding to wear his cowboy boots versus his tie-up hikers. His clothes are usually covered in dust from riding the farm horses or working in the fields. And his charm stretches as far as answering in monosyllables. He doesn't excel at anything in particular and he's never been materialistic or ambitious.
There were times, when I was really young, too young for a six-year-old girl to play with the rough and tumble boisterous boys in our neighborhood, I'd follow fourteen-year-old Chase around just hoping for a small piece of his attention. And without question, he'd give it to me. He'd teach me about the animals on the farm and hold on to his patience even though my constant childish questions probably seemed ridiculous to him.
He never knew how much I grew to love our time together, though.
Before knowing how to write, I'd spend my mornings as I waited for him to come outside using my crayons to draw pictures of the two of us together.
As I got older, I recognized my feelings for him ran deeper than they should've and it hurt. His life got busy with teenage relationship drama whereas mine didn't. I watched him with various teenage girls; always laughing, touching, kissing. A little part of me ached anew with each passing flavor in his life.
"And you love Myles for who he is, exactly?" Kate asks, reaching for additional verification. "Right?"
"Yes."
She looks unconvinced, but offers, "I'm sorry for doubting you, Ry. I just want you to have everything in this life you deserve. You're one of the best people I've ever known and I wouldn't bring Chase up if I thought you and him had a—"
"I know you care, Kate," I confirm, cutting her off before she has a chance to finish. "But what Myles and I have is good."
The truth is, I never stood a chance with Chase. As I started to grow up, Chase and my relationship transformed. Instead of friendly and innocent, it became stretched and awkward.
Once I reached adolescence, he started having less patience for my questions and told me he was too busy to have me following him around all the time. What he said hurt because I wanted to be with him, even if only in the companionable sense. Once I started high school, Chase completely ended whatever relationship we had. It was as if he were there one day, and gone the next.
About that time, though, Myles took an interest in me.
During our junior year of high school Myles's attentiveness had changed. Rather than continue to let all the other girls in our class shamelessly fall over themselves for him as they always had, he started to focus only on me. It took my best friends, Kate and Kendra, to point out the not-so-subtle change in his behavior. I'd been so consumed with maintaining my good grades and getting into a decent college that I hadn't taken the time to notice him at all. To be honest, I think it was my indifference to him that increased his pursuit of me.
His attention started with him coming over to my house, citing he was there to hang out with my dad. That reason was legitimate, so it was one I didn't question. As we grew up next door to each other, our parents were always together. At the time, his father, Marcus, was the pastor of our church and his mother, Mary, was a stay-at-home busybody. She was also my mom's best friend.
When Myles would stop over to visit, he'd always come in my room first. He'd sit on the floor beside me and hang out while our parents talked about whatever plans they had in the making. Every now and then, while watching TV in silence, I'd look over and catch Myles observing me carefully. I could never understand what it was about me that had him so enthralled, but I remember always feeling exposed under his intense examination.
"Hello?" Kate snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Are you listening? I said Chase is here."
Blinking and pulling myself from memory, I look at Kate as she sits across from me, smirking.
She didn't just say what I think she did.
"Wait. What?"