And maybe, when he looked at it that way, he and Liam actually did have something in common from their unstable childhoods.
“Maybe it’s because his parents were like that,” Robin said to Sarah, trying to explain his friend’s nomadic tendencies. “They didn’t like to stay in one place for long, always taking him on crazy adventures when we were kids. A year backpacking across Europe as a family, homeschooling along the way. Sailing around the Americas. They were always jaunting off somewhere, exploring. Traveling. Chasing another horizon.”
Liam had lost his parents sometime during Robin’s missing year, but when he wasn’t off sailing the world on his boat, Liam still kept it in the same slip his parents had always used down at the marina. Much like Robin’s mother, Seattle always seemed to call Liam back, no matter how many times he left.
He’d been one of the few who had made an effort to reach out to Robin after the accident, and in the years since, their once-casual acquaintance had grown into a genuine friendship. And Robin wasn’t really surprised that Sarah was trying to push him in Liam’s direction. She’d always liked him, and, after all, it wasn’t like Robin knew that many gay men.
Out and proud Liam was as laid-back about his sexuality as he was about everything else in life, but what Sarah couldn’t seem to wrap her head around was that just because Liam was gay—and sure, objectively speaking, definitely attractive—it didn’t mean Robin could just fall in love with him on demand. Their relationship had always had the comfortable ease of friendship, not the spark of chemistry.
“Hm,” Sarah said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her lips in thought. “Okay, forget love for the moment. If Liam’s not going to stick around, he’s clearly not a good match for you, then.”
Robin slanted a look at her as he collected the last of his shaving supplies. It wasn’t like her to give up so easily.
Or, more accurately, at all.
“Let me put it another way,” Sarah said, and Robin stifled a smile as her segue proved his point. “Don’t you want to get laid, Robin?”
“Sarah,” he said, dropping the scented shaving balm she’d bought him for Christmas into the sink with a clatter as she laughed. “Oh my God.”
She was the one person who knew everything about him—well, almost everything—but even after seven years, her brazen outspokenness could still make him blush. Maybe he really was the prude she sometimes teased him about being. He held in another smile at the thought, because really, pretty much anyone would be considered a prude compared to Sarah. Lack of sex may not have been her stated reason in asking for a divorce, but, no matter how much she prattled on about wanting the chance for a “real” relationship, he knew for sure that she was going to have some fun along the way to finding true love. Well, assuming she found a man who would look past her slow gait and still-awkward movements and appreciate all her awesomeness.
Not that Sarah would put up with anyone who didn’t, of course.
Sometimes Robin envied her the irrepressible well of self-confidence that he’d never seen shaken, not even when she’d been at her lowest. But, mostly, he was just glad that she had it. He had no doubt that she would go out and get exactly what she wanted out of life, regardless of what others might perceive as her lingering disabilities.
“‘Oh my God’ is not an answer, Robin,” Sarah said, handing him the shaving balm with a saucy wink. “Don’t go getting all bashful on me now. I’m your wife. If you can’t talk to me about sex, then who can you talk to?”
“Do I have to talk to anyone about it? Isn’t that sort of thing supposed to be private?” he asked, raising his voice a little to drown out her disbelieving snort.
After all they’d gone through together, privacy wasn’t exactly something that applied between the two of them—at least, not much—but, as close as they were, there were still things he’d never shared with her. Things he didn’t always know how to put into words, and not just because of the way his verbal recall skills had been messed up beyond repair. Some of his feelings… hopes… dreams, still felt too raw to open up about, even after all this time.
“Besides,” Robin continued, pushing away the brief twinge of melancholy at the thought of things he would probably never have and focusing instead on the wife status she’d laid claim to. “You’re actually my ex-wife, now, and I think there’s something wrong with this entire line of reasoning in the context of my sex life.”
“You don’t have a sex life,” she pointed out.
Brat.
He rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide it this time.
“Besides, married or not, we’ll always be besties, right? I just wouldn’t want to see you die a virgin, Robin,” she said, the twinkle in her eyes ruining the oh-so-serious-and-concerned look she was trying to give him as she patted his shoulder consolingly.
“You know I’m not,” he said. Blushing. Again. Jeez. He seriously needed to change the subject, although quick conversational pivots were not his strength. And Sarah, of course, wasn’t at all above using his speech delays against him. She generally treated those maddening moments of silence caused by his messed-up brain taking too long to find a word he needed as an invitation for her to jump in and make whatever her next point was.
She smacked him, laughing. “I mean a gay virgin, honey, and you know it.”
He rubbed his shoulder, deciding he should be thankful she didn’t feel the need to have an in-depth discussion of their few, failed attempts at being a “real” married couple. He did love Sarah, and even if it was only the love of friendship, he’d always taken their marriage seriously. But still, trying to turn that relationship into something physical had proven to both of them beyond the shadow of a doubt that women just didn’t do it for him.
Being married—and expecting to stay that way—had meant that he’d never planned on acting on his sexuality, much less admit it to anyone but her. And now that he was free to, he really wasn’t all that sure what to do about it.
Not sure what he had the guts to do about it, at least… it’s not like he didn’t have ideas about what he’d like to do. Or, if he were being 100% honest with himself, who he’d like to do them with.
Not that that was ever going to happen.
“Robin,” Sarah pushed, relentless as usual. “You don’t have to fall in love with Liam, but the two of you are going to be sleeping a few feet away from each other! You can just—”
“Seriously, Sarah,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her before she could offer any explicit suggestions. “I’m not talking to you about this.”
The ping of an incoming text saved him from the next round of her I-won’t-stop-until-you-get-your-gay-on crusade, and he pulled his ever-present phone out of a pocket as she not-so-subtly leaned closer to try and see who was texting him. Not that there were a lot of options to choose from, given that their circle of friends was pretty limited. He and Sarah didn’t have a lot of opportunities to meet people, and most of those that they’d each been close to before the accident had moved on with their lives, the friendships fading away during those first, most intense years of recovery and rehabilitation.
“Is it Liam?” she asked, jabbing a finger into Robin’s ticklish ribs when he angled the phone away from her and shook his head.
It wasn’t from Liam.
happy birthday, Robbie
Robin’s face split into a huge grin, and even though he tried to press his lips together and hold it in, he couldn’t. Other than Liam and Robin’s family, there had only been one other person from before who still stayed in touch. The three words weren’t anything special, really, but—even though it happened less and less often lately—he still got a little thrill every time Cash Bennett reached out to him.
Which was, admittedly, ridiculous.
Even calling Cash a friend was probably stretching it, given how little they had in common and the fact that they barely spoke anymore, but Robin didn’t care. Selfishly, he was going to go ahead and hold onto whatever lit
tle piece of his fantasy-man he could have, for as long as it was available.
Not that he had any illusions about Cash ever being more than a fantasy, of course.
They were about as opposite as any two people could be, and even if Cash ever found out that Robin was gay, too, there was no way he’d ever be interested. Cash was dynamic—fearless and vibrant and funny and, God, so, so sexy—the type of guy who would be bored out of his mind with someone like Robin.
“Is it from your brother?” Sarah asked, grabbing for the phone he still hadn’t let her see. “Jared is going to be at dinner tonight, right?”
“No, and yes,” Robin said, smiling as he answered her questions in order.
He held the phone over his head just to tease her. Robin wasn’t that tall, but Sarah was tiny, and if she was going to use his speech and memory issues against him then he figured it was fair turnabout to use his height advantage whenever it applied. She gave his phone a pointed look, crossing her arms and refusing to jump for it.
Then she frowned.
“Sarah, he’s nice,” Robin said defensively, correctly interpreting her expression for what it was: She’d figured out by process of elimination that the text had been from Cash.
“I know he is,” she said, even though her tone implied something different. “But, Robin, maybe he’s a little too nice, if you know what I mean.”
Robin almost laughed. One minute Sarah was pushing him to get laid, and the next she went for overprotective? He had never so much as breathed a word about his attraction to Cash, but it was like she had some kind of mother-hen radar.
“Wishing me a happy birthday is too much?” he asked, finally turning his phone to face her so she could read the innocent words on the screen.
As much as Robin appreciated the message, the short text really wasn’t anything for her to get excited about. He highly doubted Cash had spent more than two seconds dashing it off—probably in response to some kind of automated Facebook reminder or something—and then forgotten all about it as soon as it had been sent. Even so, knowing that Cash had been thinking of him, even for just a moment, gave Robin a burst of butterfly action in his stomach.
Despite Sarah’s implication otherwise, Cash really was nice. Even though Robin’s memories of his first few days after the accident were hazy at best, the fact that Cash had been there stuck out. At the time, he’d had to take Cash’s word for the fact that they’d become friends sometime during his lost year, but despite Robin not remembering him, Cash had kept coming back to check on him, every day. And he still stayed in touch, even after all these years. Seemed, in fact—despite the brevity and infrequency of their contact—to genuinely care about Robin.
Although probably that last bit was just wishful thinking.
Still, there was no denying that Cash had always gone out of his way to stay a part of Robin’s life, even if it was just on the fringe, and Robin had never understood why Sarah insisted on being so suspicious of the man.
“You know I’m hoping you get out there and have some fun, right, honey?” she asked now, giving the word “fun” just enough emphasis to make it sound naughty. “Just… not with someone like him, okay?”
“What is ‘someone like him’ supposed to mean?” Robin asked, bristling.
It didn’t matter that it was laughable for her to think he’d even have a chance with Cash, he still didn’t like her implied criticism of someone he had feelings for… the fact that they were hidden, well-guarded, secret feelings notwithstanding.
“Robin, let’s get real. Every time we run into him, he’s got a different man hanging on his arm. He’s a total dog. You deserve someone who will love you, not some hottie who doesn’t know the meaning of the word commitment.”
“Love me? I thought you just wanted me to get laid,” he teased, hoping they could get off the subject.
“Well, yeah, that, too, but…” she crossed her arms, huffing out a frustrated breath as she tried to marshal her arguments. “Remember the last time we saw him?”
Of course Robin did. His memory may have been as unstable as a two-year-old on roller skates, but for some reason he’d never had a problem retrieving the memories that had to do with Cash. Well, at least the ones from after his accident… and that one, single moment he could remember from before. But whatever series of unlikely events had caused them to become friends in the first place remained permanently out of reach, along with the rest of Robin’s lost year.
Cash had been evasive at best the few times Robin had hinted at wanting more detail, and he could only assume that meant that—despite Cash’s ongoing dedication to staying in contact—they really hadn’t been all that close. Which made sense, of course, even if Cash was too nice to come right out and say it. He was definitely out of Robin’s league… not that that had kept Robin from developing a full-blown crush on him.
Or religiously cataloging every time Cash had come to see him in the hospital.
Not to mention the visits when he’d been in rehab.
Or the one time here at the house, right after Cash had gotten out of the Marines.
And, of course, every text the man had ever sent.
Plus the rare phone calls over the years, few and far between and always surprising Robin into an embarrassing mix of stuttering and silence.
God, he really was pathetic. Another reason never to admit his infatuation with Cash to Sarah. Although he must have given himself away, at least a little bit, if her current reaction was anything to go by.
Despite Seattle being big enough that it might never have happened, they’d run into Cash several times over the years—most recently back in February—and yes, he was always in the company of a different guy. The last time they’d seen him, Robin and Sarah had been in Fremont for a tongue-in-cheek “romantic” lunch—it had been Valentine’s Day—and Cash had come into the little cafe they’d chosen just as they were leaving.
He’d had yet another clearly-besotted blond guy literally—as Sarah had referenced—hanging on his arm, and the two of them had been laughing. Their cheeks had been pink from the cold… or maybe from other things. Robin’s stomach had clenched with unfounded jealousy at the sight before he’d caught himself.
“He couldn’t even get his boyfriend-of-the month’s name right,” Sarah reminded Robin now, dredging up the same memory. “He introduced him as what, Anthony? Andrew?”
“He called him Andrew,” Robin said, fiddling with the button on the side of his phone.
Cash had seemed a bit distracted when he’d made the introduction. Distracted from his date, at least. He’d given Robin the same total, focused attention that he always did on those rare occasions that they saw each other in person, almost making him feel like the two of them were the only ones in the cafe. It was crazy the way that Cash was able to do that, and Robin could only assume he applied the same level of intensity to the never-ending series of men he hooked up with.
Being the focus of Cash’s attention was a little heady… and, if the blond he’d been with got the same treatment, it was no wonder the man had been willing to forgive Cash’s mistake with his name. After Cash had referred to him as “Andrew,” he’d laughed off the flub, slapping Cash playfully on the chest and telling Robin and Sarah that his name was Asher, thank you very much, all without taking his eyes off Cash.
Or his hands.
And why was it that Robin’s all-too-fallible memory could pull up those particular details just fine? If his unreliable brain was going to randomly fail to remember potentially important things, he definitely could have done without such clear and total recall for the sight of cute-as-a-button-and-probably-much-more-interesting-than-Robin Asherthankyouverymuch cuddled up to Cash’s side.
Not that who Cash spent time with was, or ever would be, any of his business.
God, pathetic didn’t even begin to do Robin justice. If Sarah had any idea how often his thoughts strayed in Cash’s direction, she’d never let him live it down. Actually, given her atti
tude about Cash, she’d probably turn her formidable will toward convincing Robin to get over it already.
Which would be smart.
Maybe not possible, if the last seven years were anything to go by, but definitely smart.
Sarah plucked the phone out of his hand. “See?” She tapped the screen, obviously determined to make her point. “Cash doesn’t even get your name right, Robin.”
“Yes, he does,” he said defensively, snatching his phone back.
“Your name is Robin. No one calls you ‘Robbie,’” Sarah insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“He does,” Robin pointed out. “He’s always called me that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I suppose we should give him credit for getting it partially right, then, but let’s face it. ‘Robbie’ is probably just the best he can do, given all the men’s names he must have to constantly juggle in his head. I wonder if he even remembers what your name really is. Seriously, honey, I’m all for you putting yourself out there, but I’d hate to see you become just another notch on Cash’s bedpost.”
“He was just wishing me a happy birthday, Sarah, not asking me out,” Robin said stiffly, taking his toiletries over to his suitcase as an excuse to turn away from her.
Sarah would never intentionally say anything hurtful, but… what if she was right? He’d always secretly liked the fact that Cash insisted on calling him “Robbie.” It had made him feel a little special, if he were honest about it, but maybe—probably—he’d just been fooling himself.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 71
