Chapter 23
Brielle’s POV
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We carry our coffees out onto the balcony, where the night sky bursts with fireworks, each explosion painting fleeting wonders of light. I feel a surprising ease around Tim. It’s unfamiliar-comfort in conversation-especially as thoughts of Balen creep in like unwelcome guests. Balen was always a puzzle I couldn’t solve, a man wrapped in layers of distance and silence. Years went by without the simplicity of sitting together and just talking. Nights sprawled out in front of a game with my dad? Balen wouldn’t even entertain the idea; he was too absorbed in work-or so I thought.
Looking back, I see the truth like a sliver of glass beneath the skin, sharp and irrefutable. His mind wasn’t drowning in spreadsheets or overtime; it was tangled somewhere else. Somewhere forbidden. He hadn’t avoided intimacy out of stress or exhaustion. No-he was with her. My sister. All those hours “at the office,” all that carefully sustained disinterest in me-it was her he sought, not what we were building together.
The realization isn’t crushing anymore; it floats hollowly in my thoughts, a weight I’ve already learned to bear. You might wonder why tears aren’t flooding my days since the marriage crumbled, but the sting of it dulled long before the final break. A year or more passed where Balen melted away from me -no warmth in bed, no lingering touches, just cold walls between us. I’d already grieved his disinterest; I just didn’t recognize what I was mourning then. I poured myself into work and seminars to fill the void his absence left, subconsciously letting go of him long before I knew it.
“Your place or mine?” Tim’s voice pulls me back, cutting through the haze of reflection like sunlight breaking a storm. I blink at him, startled, unsure of what he means. Tim catches the confusion in my expression and explains with a casual smile.
“For sports nights. Your lounge beats mine hands down-it’s built for these things,” he says.
“True, but you’re bringing the beer.” I smile faintly, grateful for how effortless his company feels. “I’ll
handle the snacks.”
Mini pies and chips-that’s what Dad loves. Me? I lean toward gourmet platters with cheeses, cold cuts, something a little more indulgent. But the staples, popcorn and beer, they’re always essential.
“Done deal, Work permitting, we’ll keep it simple. Even if one of us gets sidetracked, the dads can still come over. Believe me, they’ll savor a night away from home. My dad and I both vote for mini pies and chips, by the way.” Tim grins, and it’s the kind of conversation that would feel mundane with anyone else, but with him, it feels easy.
“When should we start planning?” I ask, intrigued by the prospect of shared evenings that feel closer to family than I’ve had in years.
“Let’s talk to our dads. See what works,” Tim replies.
His idea feels refreshing, like a step toward reclaiming something lost-a sense of belonging I hadn’t realized I missed. Family dynamics for me had crumbled slowly, painfully, across years of arguments, awkward Sunday lunches, and Balen’s shadow always looming. Every fight seemed to revolve around my sister, though I hadn’t seen it then. Her jealousy, her attempts to insert herself where she didn’t belong-they were always there, simmering beneath the surface. If only I’d noticed before it all came
unraveled.
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“I’ll mention it to my dad when we meet Sunday for lunch,” Tim adds after a lull, his eyes tracing the vibrant explosions overhead.
“Same. Dad and I have plans for lunch too-probably to celebrate starting our new jobs Monday.”
The fireworks spin on above us, their rhythmic booms filling the silence between words. Then Tim hesitates, shifting slightly, his confidence hitching as his next thought nudges forward.
“Brielle, I, uh… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” His tone falters, and I see for the first time a glimmer of uncertainty-a break in the assured manner he always carries.
“You can ask me anything,” I say gently, curious but a little sad to see hesitation in the person who seems so open with me.
“Well… um, okay. So, we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks, and since that night-well, the night we spent together-I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Look, I don’t want to sound crude, but would you consider, for lack of a better term, being my… booty call?” He pauses as if bracing for judgment, then rushes ahead. “We connect so well, and while we’re still figuring each other out, I’d like to, uh, explore this more-take you to bed again. I’m sorry if I sound crass, but I don’t know how else to frame it. Neighbors who can enjoy… benefits together?”
He smirks faintly at his own phrase, as if trying to gauge where I stand.
“Neighbors with benefits,” I echo, rolling the words off my tongue slowly to see how they taste. It’s almost comical. Yet, isn’t it logical?
His grin widens. “Better phrasing, yeah. Just so we’re clear-I’d be exclusive with you. I’m clean, and while we’re meeting each other’s needs, I won’t be with anyone else. If you find someone you want to pursue, we stop-no drama, no hurt feelings.”
“Wait. So, dates are okay, but not… sleeping with anyone else?” I probe, trying to understand what he’s really offering.
“Exactly. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else unless we’ve talked. Same goes for you. It’s about trust and honesty. If you decide to date someone and it’s serious-then this stops.” He explains, though a flicker of sadness crosses his face, maybe from imagining that possibility.
I chew over his words. I’ve seen him chatting with other women before-friendly but not overly intimate. I wonder if he really isn’t involved with anyone else, and where this arrangement would leave
“So,” I start slowly, smirking a little despite myself, “if you’re about to hook up with a woman, are you really going to pause mid-seduction, whip out your phone, and tell me? ‘Hey Brielle, just a heads-up- condom’s on; the deed’s almost done!’ Actually, don’t answer that. The whole idea is absurd.” I laugh dryly, a layer of sharpness sneaking into my tone.
It’s frustration more than malice-old scars of distrust resurfacing, remnants of a broken marriage loaded with lies. Still, I find myself torn. I don’t mean to be cruel in my response, but after Balen, after everything, trust feels like a mountain I don’t know how to climb again.
