I was on the brink of turning thirty the first time I thought of Cyrus. the first time I knew I loved him, like really loved him, the way you would someone who you wanted to spend forever with. All he had to do was say my name, Rachel. I'd probably just melt. His warm, melting brown eyes staring back at me.

Forever, if we could have forever.

We'd be married with one kid or two or three kids. It wouldn't matter how many children we will make together, just as long as they are ours. I'd wake up in the morning before everyone will get up, I'll have breakfast ready. Cyrus will walk into the kitchen whilst Katie and Julia say, "Good morning, dad! Aren't you going to kiss Mommy good morning?" while Julia pours milk and cereal into both her and Katie's bowls.

"I can't imagine I'd ever forget," he'd say, smiling as he pushes aside his plate of eggs and bacon to meet his lips with Rachel's. His kiss will fill his absence while he's gone for the day, probably working on some big case now that he's some big-shot lawyer with his own firm. And when he comes back home, he'll kiss me again, and instead of goodbye, this time it will be, "I'm home."

If only I could get the nerve to tell him I love him and that I want forever.

Cleo was the lucky one. Matter of factly, her name meant glory. As if she hadn't managed to get all of my glory, Cyrus. She had the better job, a forensic psychiatrist. She wore the most beautiful of clothing. She walked with a sway; I don't walk with a sway. You'd think all women can, but not me. She came from money, born into it. Now that she can't help, but she could be snobby at times. Like last night, we all went for dinner at a fancy restaurant in town with her parents. We were celebrating their engagement announcement, and it was there that Cyrus asked me to be his best man, or best woman, I should say.

"Yes, I am so honored to be your best man/woman," I said. It means so much to me to be there for you in only a way I can, is what I was thinking. Why not me?

We were just served our dinner, caramelized Brussels sprouts with pistachios, a side of spinach pomegranate salad, and a bottle of rosé. I didn't order; she did. I was too afraid to say anything, to look out of place. I just wanted a home-style Za'atar chicken with rice and a glass of Chardonnay. But, "Who eats plain at Félicité, the most extravagant restaurant inside the Belle Vie Hotel, the most beautiful hotel in the country?" Cleo said. Her voice was the sound of seduction and firmness, she could tell Cyrus anything and he'll take it in like glory had just presented itself in front of him.

Most of all, though, she has Cyrus, and they are just about to get married.

I, Rachel, whose job is being a trauma nurse, who's supposed to work calmly under intense pressure with high-level experience, couldn't get through the stressful, tortuous, agonising, excruciating pain of the recent most engrossing matter of last night, Cyrus and Cleo together married forever.

Why did I say Yes to being his best woman? I'll have to help plan their wedding with Cleo's ever-so-beautiful sister Mia. It's like all her family can't be anything but beautiful.

I will think of when Cyrus and Cleo—C&C, as it will be inscribed on their wedding invitations—will garden together, clean out the garage together, cook together, sleep together, start a family together—together, together, together—while Cleo and Mia choose what bridesmaids' dresses go with her dazzlingly stunning a-line white wedding gown.

Maybe it's because now every time he has to introduce me, at least for the time being, it will be, "This is Rachel, my best woman."

Oh, to hear those words from the very lips I want to touch against my own. Just one is all I need. His soft, full lips I desire the hardest will be the ones that are the best to kiss. His big arms wrapped around me as I begin to fall down to my knees, unzip his pants, and put his warm, hard cock in my mouth. My little brother's dick in his older sister's wide-open, already-wet mouth. Salivating at the prospect of this very moment. As he brings his arms down and takes his large hands to hold my head and control every movement as I swirl my tongue from side to side and all around his big, beautiful, tasty cock. Back and forth, back and forth, he moves my head, fighting not to cum. He looks into my eyes.

"I think you're going to make me cum, Rachel," he says.

"Go ahead. Cum, cum in mouth, Cyrus," I reply.

"Fuck!" he says as he finishes in my mouth.

"I had no idea how much you could cum, Cyrus," I say. I keep stroking him as he gets soft. As I withdraw my hand covered in cum, I put a finger in my mouth and suck it clean. I'm tasting him.

"Mmmm!" I say. It tastes good, like salted caramel, or a chocolate with crystals of salt on top of it.

What a thought, as I wake up from this daydream while eating my caramel candy from Ghirardelli. My little brother's cum in my mouth, swallowed to completion. If only what I could muster up with imagination were true.

Coming to my senses now, I have the realization to do something bad. I have to plan something else, other than a wedding. I have to plan for the end of a new and forthcoming marriage getting in my way of true undying love without end.

Soon he'll see how compassionate and passionate I am for life, of our love, and how worthy I am of it. He will notice me and love me, and he'll see how Cleo isn't right for him. I will do whatever it takes.

Now all I have to do is destroy their wedding.