The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 422

Kyle's POV

"I am not drunk. I am—" Morton paused. Considered this. "—okay yes I'm very drunk. But in my defense, my baby brother just got married and I was the best man and there were many, many toasts."

"How many?"

"Seventeen. I counted." He let go of the doorframe. Tried to walk in a straight line toward the chair. Failed. Course-corrected. Overcorrected. Ended up doing this weird zigzag pattern that would have been funny if he wasn't also clearly about to fall over.

Dr. Norbu stepped aside smoothly. Like he'd anticipated this exact scenario.

Morton collapsed into the chair the doctor had just vacated. His long legs sprawling out. His head falling back against the cushion.

"This chair is comfortable," he announced. "Why is hospital furniture so comfortable? Regular furniture should be this comfortable. I should buy hospital furniture for my house."

"Morton," I said. "Why are you here?"

"Because you're my best friend." He lifted his head. Looked at me with bloodshot eyes. "I have so many feelings, Kyle. So many feelings."

Dr. Norbu moved toward the door. "I should leave you two to talk."

"Stay," Morton said. "You're a doctor. You understand feelings. Explain feelings to me."

"Feelings are not my specialty," Dr. Norbu said gently. "But I can recommend an excellent therapist."

"I don't need therapy. I need—" Morton stopped. His face crumpled. "I don't know what I need."

Dr. Norbu looked at me. That knowing look. The one that said you're in for an interesting night.

Then he left. The door closing softly behind him.

Leaving me alone with my very drunk, very emotional best friend.

"I love her," Morton said into the silence.

"I know."

"No. You don't understand. I love her. Scarlett. I love her so much it makes my chest hurt. Like actually hurt. Is that normal? Should I see a cardiologist?"

"It's normal."

"How do you know?"

"Because I feel the same way about Mia."

He sat up. Too fast. Swayed. Put his hand on the armrest to steady himself. "Then what are we doing?"

"Is that why are you here? Talking about Scarlett?"

"I don't know what I'm doing with Scarlett." He slumped back. "She's back in my life. We're together. We're happy. But we're not—" He gestured vaguely. "—married anymore. And I don't know how to ask her to marry me again without it sounding insane. 'Hey, remember when we got divorced? Want to try that again?'"

Despite everything, I smiled. "Come on, bro."

"I know!" He threw his hands up. "That's the problem! I can't just propose normally. We've already been married. Already failed at it. How do you ask someone to take that risk again?"

Morton stared at me. Then started laughing. "God. You're right."

I didn't know I had said anything.

He stared at me. Then pulled out his phone.

Looked at it like it was some kind of weapon.

"Morton—"

"I love you," he said. The words tumbling out. Urgent. Like he'd been holding them in too long. "I love you so much it scares me. You're the bravest person I know and the smartest and the most beautiful and I don't deserve you but I want you anyway. I want to marry you again. Properly this time. With better vows. And I want to mean them. Really mean them. The way I should have meant them the first time."

Silence on the other end.

Morton's face went pale. "Scarlett?"

More silence.

Then: "You're such an idiot."

Morton's face fell.

She hung up the phone.

"Shit." He sat down. Hard. "What did I just do?"

"You proposed drunk. At two AM. Over speakerphone. To you ex-wife."

He started laughing. "I'm getting married," he said again. "To the same woman. For the second time. Is that allowed? Is that legal?"

I shook my head. So drunk.

"I should go," he said. "Before I do something else ridiculous. Like declare my love to the entire hospital staff. Or try to fight someone."

"Who would you fight?"

"I don't know. Death maybe. For trying to take my best friend." He moved toward the door.