Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

Marcello.

I hesitated before opening the message.

Ma chère Jess, it began. Le ciel parisien semble un peu moins lumineux en ton absence.

I frowned, translating the French automatically. The Parisian sky feels a little less bright while you are away.

The message was beautiful, poetic, and... hollow. It felt wrong to read it, like I was betraying Luke by even acknowledging it. I wasn't close to even being remotely ready just to acknowledge that Luke is dead. I was even less ready for whatever Marcello was. I locked the phone without replying and tossed it back onto the bed.

Laura noticed but didn't comment. She simply gave me a knowing look, as if she could read my thoughts and had decided to let it slide-for now.

"Come on," she said, tossing me a loose sweater. "Let's get this over with."

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the low hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Laura sat beside me, flipping through a magazine she wasn't really reading. I couldn't focus on anything-the words in the magazine, the ticking of the clock. on the wall, nothing. My mind was a whirlpool of questions and fears I wasn't ready to face.

up quickly, my legs unsteady, but Laura was there to

we followed her down the corridor, each step feeling like it led me further

escape.

mid-forties, stood by the counter as we entered. His smile was

side, her arm lightly draped over my shoulder. Her presence was the only thing

eyes softening, but there was hesitation in his movements, as if he didn't quite know how to approach me. I could see it-the pity in

the edge of his lips. He wanted to say something, I could feel it, and I hated it. I hated the

through the silence, firm and protective. "Please. Don't. I just got here, Doc. Please just make

pressed on. "Please, just do your job. We're not here for... anything

I had to fight to keep my voice steady when

as if caught off guard by my words, but

moved to prepare the equipment,

thought of doing

I hated it. I hated the way he looked at me, as if I was some fragile thing about to break