Can't Fall in Love Without You (Christian Yelich)

16

It was May, and the weather was heating up, as Christian could feel a thin layer of sweat build as he unloaded his now six-month-old baby girl from her car seat.

By the time he got back to his apartment, he was starving. He knew he was only down to a few of Elizabeth's frozen meals, so he was excited when he opened the freezer and saw that she had restocked all of his favorites – Mexican stir fry, steak and potatoes, tetrazzini.

He couldn't help but smile when he thought about his friend . . . How selfless and thoughtful she was. She was so busy with work that he couldn't believe she saved any time at all for him and Ivy. But she did. She gave them everything she had left. At least it seemed that way.

Maybe she was home. Maybe he could thank her for her generosity. She had no idea how much the meals helped him.

He grabbed Ivy and held her close, the baby absolutely beaming at her father. "Let's go see Miss Elizabeth, yeah?" he asked her, Ivy's eyes sparkling in response.

He propped open his apartment door. He was about to exit entirely when he noticed two figures standing in front of the entry to Ellie's place. A man . . . and Elizabeth. A very good-looking, lean, tall man – not much shorter than him, if he had to guess. Maybe 6'2"?

And he had his hands all over Elizabeth's ass as she fidgeted with her key. Christian watched him squeeze her backend tightly, aggressively, even. He couldn't look away.

She had a perfect ass. Christian had never noticed it before, never paid it any mind, but now that another man had claimed it as his, he was giving it the attention a butt so nice deserved. It was tight and round and muscular all at once, and he wasn't the one who got to touch it. This asshole did.

What was wrong with his brain? Ellie was his best friend . . . He shouldn't sexualize her. But damn.

Frozen in place, he heard Ellie giggle as she suddenly stopped trying to get the key to turn. "I have to get this open, Lyle." As soon as the words left her lips, Lyle had spun her around to face him.

"This is going to be fun, Lizzy," he muttered, smashing his mouth against hers and pressing her up against the door. Christian noticed Lyle's knee press up between her legs, rubbing against an area Christian had only dreamed about and pinning her in place. Christian's stomach started to twist and turn, as soft, sexy moans escaped Elizabeth's mouth. He knew this guy didn't deserve her.

No one did. Absolutely no one deserved Dr. Elizabeth Reed. Not this fucking guy . . . And not Christian either.

He watched the man discard his shirt – exposing a perfectly ripped back with broad, toned shoulders. He then skillfully grabbed the key out of Elizabeth's hand before smoothly opening the door while still kissing the woman Christian cared about so deeply. Maybe more deeply than he thought. Definitely more deeply than he wanted to feel.

Christian knew he had to go inside. Ivy was getting fussy in his arms, the only possible thing that could break his hypnotization, so he retreated back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. He didn't know why he slammed it. He didn't care who heard. Part of him hoped she heard it. She probably didn't, as she was too consumed by a man's entire tongue in her mouth.

He couldn't breathe. His heart was racing so fast. Why did this matter? Why did it hurt so much to see his friend in a sexual context? Why couldn't he stop thinking about that tool cupping her impeccable ass? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her ass in general? She was his friend, and it wasn't fair of him to objectify her like this. He wanted to turn it off. He wanted to turn his dick off, too, as he looked down at the growing bulge in his pants. Fuck.

He did a loud impression of this obnoxiously attractive Lyle character. "This is going to be fun, LIZZY," he mimicked, his daughter giving him a funny look. Lizzy? Fucking Lizzy? She wasn't a Lizzy. She was Elizabeth. She was Ellie. Sometimes her friends called her Liz. But Lizzy? Get the fuck out of here, Chris Hemsworth.

He placed his daughter gently in her swing, much more gently than he thought possible considering the onslaught of emotions he was experiencing all at once.

He sat on his couch to take some deep breaths in an attempt to gather his thoughts. He was failing miserably. He just wanted to talk to her, but what was he supposed to do when the person who helped him off the ledge was responsible for bringing him to it?

That wasn't fair to her, and he knew it. None of this was Elizabeth's fault. It wasn't her fault that he was emotionally compromised, damaged to the point of no repair. That he lost his wife. That he was still in love with his beautiful, beautiful wife. That he may have fallen in love with Ellie, too, while trying to work through his grief, and now he loved two women . . .

He loved Ellie because she was present and careful and sweet and soft. So soft. He remembered how soft she was in his dream. He remembered how it felt to be deep inside her . . .

Fuck.

He wasn't, though. That's what he had to tell himself. "I'm not in love with Elizabeth," he whispered out loud.

And he spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself that they were just wonderful friends. The best of friends. Two peas in a pod. He'd forget about her ass, her lips, her low, seductive moans into a stranger's mouth. He could push past all of that.

He told himself she deserved a handsome man like Lyle. And she deserved to feel good, happy, loved. Sexed, even.

She deserved someone much less destroyed than him.