HIS GIRL BRO CROSSED THE LINE

"If he really can't go without it, he can come to me. Guys help each other get off. What's the problem?" My husband's "brother" happens to be a woman.

I was newly pregnant, and she asked me whether I could still satisfy him at night.

She bumped his shoulder, laughing, and asked if he wanted her to "help." My husband smoothed it over and told me he had never once thought of her as a woman.

But my motherinlaw, who had never gotten along with me, took out her phone and sent me photos of five men. "Rich, goodlooking, young, in great shape.

And one of them is an OBGYN." She turned to my husband. "You've got a brother who doesn't count as a woman.

She can have a few sisters who don't count as men." My husband's face went dark. Chapter 1 My fatherinlaw was peeling shrimp for my motherinlaw.

When he heard that, he didn't even wipe his hands.

He looked up at my husband first. "Why are you yelling at your mother?" Nathaniel couldn't believe it. "Dad, she's setting my wife up with other men!" "So she's setting her up.

So what?" He put the peeled shrimp in her bowl, pulled out a napkin, and unhurriedly wiped the oil off her fingertips. "Your mother has never had to put up with anything in her life.

You shout like that, what if you scare her?" Nathaniel had nothing left to say at all.

My motherinlaw leaned against his shoulder and added, in an injured little voice: "Exactly." "He gets to have a brother who doesn't count as a woman.

I'm nice enough to find his wife a few sisters who don't count as men, and he yells at me." I held my fork and, for the first time, had no idea whose side I was supposed to take.

Honestly, my motherinlaw and I had never gotten along. She thought the curtains I bought were an old woman's color.

I couldn't stand that she insisted on putting a pink velvet chaise in the living room. She said I was young and had no taste.

I said she was in her fifties and still living in a princess bedroom. We fought about it for three solid days.

In the end, my fatherinlaw talked her down and had people come redo the living room the way she liked it.

The day the pink chaise came in, she walked past me four times on purpose. Every time, she touched the back of it and gave a satisfied little hum.

The first three times, I let it go. The fourth time, I slammed the bedroom door right in front of her.

She was so angry she went straight to my fatherinlaw to report that I'd given her a dirty look. But the two of us only ever rubbed each other the wrong way.

She never came into my room, never went through my things, never asked what we earned, and she had never once pushed me to have a baby.

After I found out I was pregnant, I threw up so much that she made a face and said: "Other people get morning sickness.

You get an exorcism." Then she turned around and had the housekeeper change the menu several times a day. In the morning I said I wanted oatmeal.

When it came, I couldn't stand the smell of it. At noon I said I wanted something sour. She brought back pickles, and I took one bite and said they were too sour.

She tore me apart to my face, and at night she quietly called the doctor to ask if there was any way to make me more comfortable.

Chapter 2 So now, with her suddenly standing up for me, I didn't quite know what to do with myself. Trish was the one who laughed first. "Mrs. Rutledge, you haven't changed a bit.

You never let anything slide." My motherinlaw lifted her face off my fatherinlaw's shoulder. "Why should I let anything slide?" Trish paused. "I really was just joking around." Then, as if she were afraid of being left with no way to save face, she kept explaining. "Nathaniel and I have known each other for over ten years.

I know exactly where the holes were in his underwear in college." "Friends say crude stuff to each other.

That's normal, isn't it?" Nathaniel frowned. "That's enough." Trish acted like she hadn't heard him. "Every time one of us started dating somebody, I gave them the same treatment." She turned to look at me, a faint challenge in her voice. "Sis isn't going to start minding that kind of thing now, is she?" "If we can't even joke around, how are we supposed to hang out anymore?" I was about to say something when my motherinlaw raised her hand. "Hold on." Trish looked at her. "What is it?" My motherinlaw propped up her chin, completely serious. "Did you just say that you and my son are brothers?" "That's right." "So are you a man?" Trish was thrown for a second. "Of course not." "Oh.

So you're still a woman." My motherinlaw nodded, as if she'd finally gotten it all straight. "A woman sits there in front of another man's wife, asks how her husband gets off at night, and says she can help." She blinked. "That's not what you'd call being easygoing, is it?" "You'd call that having no boundaries." The smile froze on Trish's face. "No, Mrs.

Rutledge, that's not what I meant by brothers." "Then what did you mean?" My motherinlaw tilted her head. "Do real brothers keep tabs on what a married couple does in bed?" "Or do you hold up 'brother' as a shield with one hand and do things that are anything but innocent with the other?" She picked up a shrimp and took an unhurried bite. "You want the privileges of a brother without keeping a friend's boundaries." "You want it both ways.

Where does anybody get a deal like that?" Trish's face went red, then white. "Mrs.

Rutledge, you're going after me on purpose, aren't you?" "I am not." My motherinlaw said it without a trace of guilt. "You're the one who says you don't count as a woman one minute and that you're not a man the next." "You've got me all turned around." She rubbed her temple and leaned toward my fatherinlaw. "Honey, she's giving me a headache." My fatherinlaw wiped his hands on his napkin at once and started rubbing her temples for her. "Don't think about it.

Eat." Trish said nothing. Nathaniel had nothing left to say either. My fatherinlaw bent over his soup, but his shoulders gave one visible shake. I couldn't hold it in.

I put my head down and laughed out loud. The rest of that dinner was finally, completely quiet. Before she left, Trish stood in the entryway changing her shoes.

She still couldn't swallow it, apparently, because on her way out she clapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. "Drinks sometime.

Just us." "Little sis is pregnant, so I won't invite her." Then she waved at me. "Little sis, don't read into it." Before I could answer, my motherinlaw leaned out from the living room. "Wait." Trish turned around. "What is it, Mrs.

Rutledge?" "Don't call her little sis." Trish stopped short. "Then what do I call her?" My motherinlaw said, seriously: "You're my son's brother, aren't you?" "If you're brothers, you use the same word for her.

Can't have people breaking the rules." She pointed at me. Chapter 3 "My son calls her his wife." "So you call her wife too." The room went dead silent for a full two seconds.

A laugh burst straight out of me. My fatherinlaw ducked his head fast and pretended to study the fruit on the coffee table.

Trish went scarlet and walked out without even saying goodbye. Nathaniel walked her out with a black look on his face. The next morning the nausea was terrible.

I got half a bowl of oatmeal down and threw all of it back up. Nathaniel had been crouched in the bathroom with me for a while and was just going to get me some water.

Then, out of nowhere, the keypad lock at the front door clicked open. "Beep—" I froze. A second later the door opened.

Trish came in with two bags of breakfast, loud as ever. "You up?" "I got you that spicy beef soup you like." Halfway through the sentence she saw the two of us standing in the bathroom doorway, and her eyebrows went up. "Oh.

Throwing up again?" She bent down, opened the shoe cabinet, and pulled a pair of gray slippers out of the very back to change into. I looked at those slippers.

I didn't say anything. I'd been living there six months and had never seen them before.

My husband noticed where I was looking too. "How did you just walk in?" "Please." Trish carried the breakfast toward the kitchen. "My fingerprint's still in the lock, isn't it?" "You used to sleep in every day.

When did I ever not let myself in?" She took bowls out of the cabinet like she'd done it a hundred times. The heavy smell of chili oil off the beef soup spread through the room.

My stomach lurched hard, and I turned back to the sink and held on. This time I couldn't tell whether it was the morning sickness or just disgust.

Nathaniel went straight over and tied the breakfast bag shut again. "She can't stand that smell right now. Take it outside." Trish wasn't happy about it. "She can't eat it.

Can't you just eat it?" Nathaniel didn't answer her.

He was looking at the gray slippers on her feet. "From now on, message us before you come over." Trish stopped moving. "What?" "I said, tell us before you come over." His tone was completely serious. "If you don't hear back, don't just walk in." Trish stared at him for a few seconds, then let out a short laugh. "You're serious?" "Yes." "Fine." She dropped the breakfast on the counter and folded her arms. "Get married and the rules really do pile up, don't they." "You used to tell me to treat this place like my own home.

Now I can't even come through the door?" Nathaniel frowned. "It was never your home." Trish's smile stiffened. She clearly hadn't expected him to say it that plainly.

After a moment the corner of her mouth twitched up, but her eyes landed on me. "Little sis, if you have a problem with me, you can just tell me." "There's no reason to put Nathaniel in the middle." One hell of a bus to throw me under.

It was about to roll right over me when Nathaniel's face went cold first. "This has nothing to do with her." "I'm the one who put your fingerprint in.

I'm the one who forgot to take it out." "I handled it badly. Don't drag her into it." The expression went out of Trish's face entirely.

For a moment the air in the living room went stiff. Right then the doorbell rang. Nathaniel went to answer it.

My motherinlaw was standing outside, my fatherinlaw behind her with her purse in one hand and a thermal soup carafe in the other.

The second the door opened, she leaned in for a look. "What took you so long to open the door?" My fatherinlaw reminded her from behind. "Change your shoes first.

The floor's cold." Chapter 4 My motherinlaw took two steps in and caught sight of Trish standing in the kitchen.

Her eyes went from the gray slippers on Trish's feet, to the spicy beef soup on the counter, and finally to my white face. "Threw up again?" I nodded. "I got half a bowl of oatmeal down and lost all of it." She frowned at once. "I keep saying, what's so wonderful about oatmeal?

It's as bland as dishwater, and everybody swears it settles your stomach." She turned and motioned for my fatherinlaw to bring the soup carafe over. "I brought you lemon chicken soup, the sour kind, with little dumplings cooked in it.

I redid the broth from scratch. There's no pepper in it." "Try it once you're steadier.

If you can't get it down, don't force it." Only then did she turn to Nathaniel. "How did Trish get in?" Nathaniel was quiet for a moment. "Her fingerprint's still in the lock.

I never deleted it." My motherinlaw's whole expression changed. "Then go delete it right now." She turned and took hold of my fatherinlaw's arm.

He asked immediately: "What's wrong?" "Honey, this brother of Nathaniel's can walk in without knocking." "What am I supposed to do when I'm here by myself?" "What am I supposed to do when I come stay to keep my daughterinlaw company?" "What if I'm changing?" "What if Annabel's in the shower?" "She's pregnant, she already sleeps badly at night, and now she's throwing up like this all day.

Is she supposed to lie down in her own home worrying that somebody could open the door any second?" I watched her do her frightened little act and almost couldn't keep a straight face.

Six months of fighting with her. I knew that expression far too well. She wasn't scared. She was digging a pit for Trish. Whether my fatherinlaw could see that didn't matter.

He was always the one who took down the railing around the pit and personally pushed in whoever had upset his wife. Sure enough, his face went dark on the spot.

Trish looked a little uncomfortable. "Mrs. Rutledge, it's really not that dramatic." "I used to come over all the time.

Nobody ever bothered hiding anything from me." My motherinlaw leaned out from behind my fatherinlaw. "Then did you knock today?" Trish choked. "I…" "If you think there's nothing wrong with it, why didn't you ring the bell?" She blinked, honestly puzzled. "It doesn't cost you anything to press a button." Trish had nothing left to say at all.

My motherinlaw turned to my fatherinlaw, her voice going softer. "Honey, I still don't feel safe." He made the call right there. "Delete it." Nathaniel didn't hesitate either. "I was going to delete it anyway." He went over to the lock and pulled up the management menu.

Trish stood in the living room, her face getting colder and colder. "Nathaniel, is there really any need to make this so ugly?" His hands didn't stop. "Knocking before you walk into somebody's home isn't an ugly rule." "It's basic manners." A moment later the lock announced: "Fingerprint deleted." The voice was very light.

Trish's face dropped all at once. As if what had just been deleted wasn't a fingerprint but some privilege in this house she had always taken for granted.

Then Nathaniel reset the door code.

Trish watched him finish all of it and gave a cold laugh. "Fine." "Funny how there were never this many rules before." My motherinlaw was sitting on the couch, drinking the soup my fatherinlaw blew cool and held up to her mouth.

She lifted her head slowly. "Because he didn't have a wife before." Chapter 5 "This house used to be his alone.

Whoever he wanted to open the door for was his business." She pointed at me, then at Nathaniel. "But now this is their home.

Both of theirs." "Being handed a convenience before doesn't mean you have that right forever." Trish's face was tight.

She snatched the breakfast off the counter. "Understood." She went to the entry and bent down to change her shoes.

Nathaniel walked over, picked up the gray slippers she'd just taken off, and pushed them into the breakfast bag in her hand.

Trish's head came up fast. "What's that supposed to mean?" His expression didn't change. "Your things.

Take them with you." "Next time you want to come, ring the bell." He paused, then added: "We keep slippers for guests." Trish's fist crushed the bag. Her face went red, then white.

In the end she didn't say anything at all. She slammed the door on her way out. The bang shook the whole entryway.

My motherinlaw jumped and shrank into my fatherinlaw's chest. "Honey, she slammed the door.

She scared me." He had his arms around her immediately, and he turned to glare at Nathaniel. "What are you standing there for?" "Go see if she broke the door." Nathaniel said nothing.

I held on to the bathroom doorframe and laughed out loud before I could stop myself.

My motherinlaw's head whipped around to glare at me. "Something funny?" "The dumplings are getting cold. Come eat." I sat down at the table and tasted the soup.

Lightly sour, clean, and it actually did settle the churning in my stomach.

My motherinlaw watched me from the side. "Well?" I said it slowly, on purpose. "It's all right." She was unhappy instantly. "What do you mean, all right?" "I was up at six this morning making that broth." I looked up at her. "Then it's delicious." That satisfied her.

She lifted her chin and leaned back against my fatherinlaw's shoulder. Nathaniel stood in the entryway, looking down at the patch of floor Trish had walked across.

After a while he got the mop and went over that patch of floor again. I thought Trish would at least lie low for a few days. Instead, less than a week later, she was back.

That day was my motherinlaw's birthday. When Nathaniel was in college, home wasn't far from campus, and he was always bringing a group of friends back to eat.

She complained about how loud they were and still cooked for them constantly. After they graduated, that group came back every year for her birthday.

She started fussing two weeks ahead of time. The cake had to be three tiers, the frosting not too sweet, the decoration not too tacky. No roses in the flowers.

She said roses showed no imagination, that one look told you nobody had put any thought into it. She went through four dresses and ended up back in the first one.

My fatherinlaw ran around from morning to night, carrying her bag, fetching her shoes, hunting down her jewelry, too busy to get a sip of water, and still said cheerfully: "They all look good." She nodded, satisfied. "You do have an eye." I was sitting on the couch, and I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

She caught it immediately. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." "You think it doesn't look good." "I didn't say that." "It's written on your face." I looked up at her. "You can already tell, so why ask me?" "When did I ask you?" She glared at me and was about to argue when the doorbell rang.

She smoothed her skirt right away, and as she turned she left me with one more line: "I'm not wasting my breath on you.

It's my birthday." Nathaniel's college friends were standing outside. Trish was with them.

Chapter 6 She was holding a gift, and before she came in she made a point of knocking twice, with a loaded smile. "Happy birthday, Mrs.

Rutledge." "I'm being very good about the rules today. I knocked before I came in." She leaned hard on the word rules. The others laughed right away.

One of them needled us on purpose: "Since Annabel got pregnant, your house really has picked up a lot of rules." Another one took it up: "Trish complains about it every day now.

Says getting into a buddy's place is harder than clearing customs." Trish laughed and kicked him. "Get lost.

Don't start." She said don't start, but the smile never came off her face. She glanced at me, and the meaning in her eyes was perfectly clear.

Meaning she wasn't the only one of Nathaniel's brothers who thought I was a lot of work. Nathaniel frowned