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asleep, curled into his heavy frame.
    Br ad kisses my ear and pulls away enough to meet my eyes. When I look into his eyes I’m caught off guard by what I see. I see the five-year-old boy who used to bring me mud pies as a present. I see the fifteen-year-old boy who let me cry on his shoulder when the boy I liked publicly humiliated me; and of course the same fifteen-year-old Brad who beat that stupid boy for making me cry. I see the man in his dress blues for the first time the day he graduated from the academy. I see Brad in every moment I’ve ever been proud of him—and there are many. I see more than the brash cop from the neighborhood, I see my best friend who I had forgotten I have.
    I love him—in a way. I love Brad in nearly the same way I love James, only not quite. Only, I had forgotten how much I love him somewhere along the way. I can feel the smile on my face and the excitement in my bones. We’ve always had this thing, Brad and I. We push and pull and we fight like crazy. But then we’re closer, stronger—at least for a little while. Then it’s back to our respective lives on opposite sides of town. At least, that’s how it’s been the last few years.
    Brad pulls away and kisses my forehead. “ I’ll change in the living room. I wouldn’t want to compromise what little integrity you have left, Mrs. Patrick.” I scoff and swing at his arm as he leaves the room. My eyes linger on the closed door for longer than necessary and a goofy smile takes over my face.
    Twenty four hours ago I was working on trial prep and worried that I wouldn’t finish in tim e to leave for this trip. I didn’t even want to be here and I wasn’t very happy with the fact that Brad was going to be in attendance. We haven’t gotten along this well since before my graduation from law school. Normally, we would have been fighting about my job by now. But now, I can’t even imagine enjoying my birthday without him here.
    I walk into the en -suite bathroom and change into my sweatpants and an old police academy t-shirt that I stole from my dad years ago. When I return to the bedroom, I see Brad standing on the opposite side of the bed. He’s wearing sweatpants and his own old police academy t-shirt. We point at our matching shirts and laugh. In his right hand is my veil.
    “Will you wear this, Mrs. Patrick?” I laugh at his request, but acquiesce. He tosses me the veil. I do my best to secure it to my head, and crawl into bed. “Beautiful,” he says. I curl into Brad’s side and fall into a blissful sleep.
    THE NEXT DAY we wake up tangled around one another. My veil is long-since gone and my hair is a knotted disaster. I am wrapped securely in his arms, my back to his chest. I can tell he’s awake by the way he’s breathing. When he’s sleeping, he snores loudly. He’s not snoring now. I remain very still, pretending that I’m still asleep. He moves slightly against me and groans, muttering to himself. And that’s when I feel it—he’s stiffened behind me—all of him, I mean.
    “Seriously, dude?” he says quietly, disbelief in his voice. I’m not really sure who or what he’s talking to. I don’t think I want to know. I want to laugh at the situation, but I’d rather he get up and take care of his not-so-little issue while he thinks I’m asleep. This whole morning after marrying your best childhood friend thing is sort of awkward enough as it is.
    “ Stop it. She’s Colleen. She’s off limits,” he groans, sounding annoyed. I remain still, keep my breathing even, and shove aside my feelings of inadequacy. I am an idiot. We were drunk, he was being sweet. “The Yankees, The Chief naked, James’s ass…” he speaks slow and steady and in a moment I feel him deflate. I decide that it’s safe for him to know that I’m awake now. I stir in the bed, trying to make it believable. I just want to sprint from the bed and wash away this marriage and Brad’s expertly crafted lies. I am such a fool.
    “Good