Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“I’d waste away without you, sweets,” he replies on a sigh before smacking a brotherly kiss on the top of my head as I pass by him with the garlic toast I put in a basket for the table.
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d be the size of this house, because all you’d ever eat is fast food,” I correct, looking up into his laughing blue eyes.
“Now that’s probably true.” He chuckles, plopping into his normal chair at the dining table.
Thinking back to our humble beginnings, when the three of us shared the cheapest one-bedroom apartment available in town, a sense of pride fills me. They’d been best friends since junior high, and when Roman asked me to move in with him, out went their bunk beds I teased them endlessly for, in came my queen-size I’d had for years, and we got creative in the living room for Bram, eventually upgrading him to a futon when a neighbor left it by the dumpster when they moved out.
Sweet Abraham—introduced to me as his more common nickname, Abe—who had absolutely no problem with his best friend’s girlfriend moving in with them, because in the two years Roman and I dated before that, we became great friends too. I originally won him over through his stomach the night I met him, when I cooked the guys some dinner at their place, but then we discovered an almost eerie likeness in taste when it came to movies, music, and even wine. Which is when he earned my personalized nickname for him, Bram, because we were both obsessed with vampire movies. Roman would joke, “Thank fuck it’s opposites who attract. And no wonder I love the two of you. It’s like you’re the same person.” And it was so true. My man was the opposite of me in so many ways, making life interesting and fun with a wonderful sense of balance I never felt before him. And Bram and I were so alike it was like having a brother—or at least what I think having a brother would be like. I only have a big sister.
And somehow, we never felt awkward or as if one of us was the third wheel in any combination or situation. It was always comfortable with the three of us together, no one feeling left out or like they should make themselves scarce to give the other two some privacy.
When Roman and Bram were working or playing a video game, I happily chilled nearby, either reading or working on my own projects, making sure to keep their drinks filled and snacks within reach so they wouldn’t have to stop concentrating on their computer stuff I had absolutely zero knowledge about. That was their thing, 100 percent.
When Roman and I were snuggled up on the couch watching a movie, Bram would plop into the thrifted recliner, his presence welcome because he was just… there, not interrupting, not requiring attention, just quiet company we never got tired of.
When Bram and I would start discussing a TV show we were both crazy about that Roman had no interest in, my man would sit there with a pleasant smile on his face and laughing eyes, enjoying the banter between his girl and his best friend. And when he made it known he either didn’t like the show or had never heard of it at all, Bram and I joined forces to rant at him mercilessly until we all ended up laughing until our stomachs hurt.
We loved that apartment. We were happy there. Even when we got married, we saw no reason to leave it behind. And even when their company took off a couple of years later, we still never felt the need to move out of it. We felt better staying there with its affordable rent, being able to save, save, save, never having had pennies left over before. We had no idea if the influx of income was just a fluke that would dry up as fast as it came in or if it was sustainable, so nothing changed.
Well, maybe a few things changed.
I started cooking fancier meals with top-tier ingredients, and we got our Club Alias memberships. But we didn’t just start blowing a bunch of money on material crap we didn’t need.
And now, we live… comfortably.
Okay, that’s a lie. With Roman and Bram’s hard work, we’re pretty much loaded, and the money didn’t dry up—hence how we were able to afford the crazy membership fee at the club. It was the first thing we ever splurged on when our savings account hit seven figures. We don’t have fancy-ass cars—Roman eventually upgraded to a nice SUV when his Altima that was a hand-me-down his first year of college from his mom went caput, and I have a cute little crossover.
It wasn’t until a couple months after “it” happened that Roman and I finally made the decision to buy a house, which was custom-made everything, right down to the painted tile backsplash that still has the noodle stuck to it right now. We moved in six months ago, right after this street of houses in the new subdivision was finished being built. Then, after seeing how gorgeous the area is and how large the individual properties are when he helped us move our stuff here out of our old apartment, Bram decided to snatch up the house next door, making him our only neighbor.