by Elia Winters
“Wow. No business classes, nothing?”
“Well, yeah, I took some in night school once I figured out I didn’t know what I was doing.” She curled closer into his side, trying to think about how much she still didn’t always know what she was doing. “It’s been rocky, but I’m glad I did it.”
“How long have you had the shop?”
“About four years now.”
“Those first five years are hard.”
God, he had no idea. Or maybe he did, because he was a business owner as well. She didn’t want to talk more about this, though, because then she’d think about the hole she had dug herself into. “What about you? What brought you here?”
Ben patted her shoulder. “That’s a mess.”
“I don’t mind hearing about a mess.”
The silence stretched out endlessly, only their breathing interrupting the stillness. It seemed she wasn’t going to get that story. Finally, Ben broke the silence. “I was married once. It didn’t end well.”
The mess from that could have been anything. She really didn’t know very much about him at all. “Kids?”
“No, thank god.” Ben breathed out a sigh, his chest moving under her ear. “That would have been really complicated. But, we’re divorced now, and we’re both a lot happier. She’s remarried. Lives out in Worcester.”
Maybe she shouldn’t pry, but she was curious. “What happened?”
Ben exhaled. “Viv and I were high school sweethearts. She was my first love. I loved her from pretty much the time I knew what love was. We got married young, right out of college. Right about the same time, I was finally coming to terms with my bisexuality. I thought, hey, this doesn’t matter, because I’m married. I chose someone.” He stopped talking for a minute, his hand tensing up where it rested on her back. “But I felt like I needed to at least tell her. Like, I didn’t want anyone else, but hiding who I was started to feel shitty. So, I told her, and she…didn’t take it well. Thought I was going to cheat on her. She never trusted me again, even though I was faithful to her the entire time. We tried therapy, and it just wasn’t working. So we split up.”
Hannah squeezed him a bit tighter. “That must’ve been awful.”
He was silent for another moment. “You know I have a photographic memory?”
An odd subject change. “Yeah? Mitchell mentioned it.”
“Well, that just means that I can still recall every fight we’ve ever had, right now, every word of it. Any bad memory, any terrible thing, and I can recall it like it just happened yesterday.”
Hannah propped herself up on one arm, her hair falling over her shoulder onto his chest. Ben’s expression was more honest than she’d ever seen it, no playful witticisms, no flirtatious jokes to take away from the moment, and her heart went out to him. In the near darkness, his openness beckoned her, and she went.
He kissed her back, sweetly, softly, the exact right kind of kiss for this intimacy. Lifting her head, she brushed her nose with his. “You know, that also means you can recall the good moments. Your best moments. Like they just happened yesterday.”
Ben smiled. “That’s true.”
She crossed her arms under her chin, now lying on her stomach half on top of him. “Did you always know you wanted to be a brewer?”
“Nope. I was going to be a chemist. I spent a few years in the pharmaceutical industry, and brewing was just a hobby.” He lifted his hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “When my marriage with Viv ended, I went through a pretty rough patch. Fell into a depression. Stopped showing up for work. Lost my job. I was at rock bottom when Mitchell called me out of the blue. Said he was tired of living in New York and wanted to come back to Massachusetts. We met up, talked about how to change our lives, and decided to start the pub.”
Hannah smiled. “That sounds like Mitchell. Did he know what kind of rough shape you were in?”
“He had to have known. But he didn’t call me on it. Just said, ‘hey, let’s be partners.’ And he was strict about it, too. Made me draw up a fucking contract and everything.” He pointed toward the wall.
Hannah turned her head to follow his gaze and saw a small frame, just big enough to hold a standard-size piece of paper. That was worth seeing more closely. She climbed out from his cuddle and walked over to the wall to see what he had been pointing at.
“You framed it?”
“We had to.” Ben grinned. “It reminds us where we came from.”
Hannah skimmed down the list. The contract was just one page, written in tiny font, probably eight-point, minimal margins, but it outlined the roles and responsibilities of both partners of the Mapleton Pub. “Jesus. This is thorough for one page.”
“He had a lawyer draw it up. That’s actually still the lawyer we use today.”
At the bottom of the page, both their signatures marked the available lines: Ben’s a chicken-scratch scrawl and Mitchell’s a precise, even cursive. Seeing this contract, hearing Ben’s story, a whole new wave of affection for both of them washed through her. “This is really something, you know.”
“What, the contract?”
She waved her arms, because there wasn’t a way to encompass all the different elements verbally. “You two. The pub. This. All of it.”
Ben grinned. “I guess so.”
Hannah returned to where he was still flopped on the couch, then leaned down to give him a kiss. He smiled as he kissed her back.
“You want to stay the night?” he asked.
Oh. Her knee-jerk response was yes, because of course she did. The pleasures of waking up in someone’s arms, the casual intimacy of sleeping in another person’s bed—these were the elements of a relationship that she loved and missed. She could have that tonight, and without even the pressure of something romantic. Comfort, physical closeness, the warmth of someone close by. She wanted it so badly, her heart ached beneath her breastbone.
And that was why she had to say no.
She couldn’t let herself want something like this, not this soon, not this deep. She couldn’t handle the kind of vulnerability that would arise if she kept going down this path. Hating herself for it, but knowing it was the only way to keep her heart intact, she shook her head. “Nah. I should go. But this has been fun. Mitchell still gonna come help me pack up the shop later this week?”
“He’s planning on it.” Ben reached out to her and squeezed her hand. “Drive safe.”
Back in her car, Hannah gripped the steering wheel and hung her head. She could still go back inside and spend the night with Ben. It wasn’t too late. She could walk back up to that door, kiss him, climb into his bed, share this night together. Share other nights together.
And then what?
Lori had said she could have both of them, but wasn’t that wishful thinking, an impossible delusion? She didn’t know anyone who was committed to more than one person. People didn’t do that in real life, and they didn’t even really do it in the movies, either. Eventually, someone was going to make her choose. If she didn’t fall in love with either of them, it would be easy. If she fell in love with one of them, it would be messy.
If she fell in love with both of them, she was doomed.
This was a friendship with fucking, nothing more. Romance was terrifying. There was a different kind of vulnerability if she were to fall in love. Surely it would hurt far more to walk away. She wanted to be able to walk away.
Love was about giving up control, and she wasn’t ready to do that. Giving up control in bed was one thing: hot, fun, playful. But giving up control of her life? Giving up the independence she’d worked so hard to achieve, only to attach herself to someone else? Or to two someone elses? Having to consider more than her own needs? It was frightening. It opened her up, exposed her vulnerability. She could fail, say something wrong, give them a reason to leave, and she could lose both of them in the process.
Romance right now was an easy way to end up with her heart broken two ways at once. And as long as she could, sh
e was going to avoid it.
Chapter Eleven
Mitchell pulled up in front of Hannah’s shop and parked amid a pile of fallen leaves blown up against the curb. After summer had lingered too late into September, October had roared in with cold and frost all at once, and the trees responded with a cascade of leaves. Mitchell wrapped his jacket tighter as he stepped out into the brisk wind. He should have gone into Hannah’s shop before this. He had nothing against sex toys and had always wanted a few of his own, but he’d never made time to actually go and buy them. Also, his complicated feelings for Hannah had probably been making him avoid the place.
“Knock, knock.” He rapped on the closed door with its frosted glass and “18+ only” sign. The shop had closed a half hour ago, according to the hours stenciled on the door.
“It’s open!” she called from inside.
Yes, Please was welcoming, warm and cozy, and he spent a minute getting acclimated as he stepped inside. Hannah stepped out from the back room wiping her hands on her jeans, and she brightened at the sight of him. The big hug she gave him in greeting pressed her soft body against him. Damn, she smelled good, and he couldn’t resist inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. Stepping back, she held him by the arms, excitement all over her face. “You’ve never been in here before, right?”
“Nope.” He glanced around. This would be intimidating for someone less difficult to intimidate. “Overwhelming” was a better word for the plethora of products covering every spare surface. “You have a lot of stuff.”
“No, you’ve got to actually walk around and look at things.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him over to a rack of dildos, every size and color of the rainbow, including some in an actual rainbow pattern. “Dicks ahoy.”
“This is quite a collection.” He scanned the racks. “I thought there would be, like, a couple of types and a variety of sizes.”
“Variety is the spice of life.” She squeezed his hand, which she was still holding. “I like to have a range of options for sale. People are picky. Or they should be. Lots of people think all dicks are alike, but they’re not.”
“Like me and Ben?”
Hannah looked up at him and smiled mischievously, her tongue slightly between her teeth. “Yeah, like you and Ben. Two different dicks, both great in different ways.”
“I see.”
“You got any of these?” She motioned to the dildos.
“Nope, can’t say that I do. Ben does, though.”
“Oh, does he?” She raised an eyebrow. “You ever use it together?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” It was an intriguing prospect, one that he should really pursue one of these times.
“Ever thought about getting one of your own?”
“I’ve thought about it, yeah. Just never got around to actually doing it.”
Hannah tugged him over to a series of bureaus covered in vibrators. “The tour continues. These are things that buzz.” Everything was out of the box, just waiting to be handled and tested. Mitchell looked without touching until Hannah picked up a vibrator and turned it on. It was a long silicone thing with a knob on the end, resembling one of those old-fashioned stick microphones like Bob Barker used to use on The Price Is Right, only thick. It wasn’t a very sexy comparison. Hannah booped Mitchell on the nose with it.
“Hey!” He let go of her hand and ducked away from the toy, grinning.
Laughing, Hannah turned off the vibrator. “Okay, here you go. Come check these out.” She pulled him to another rack covered in plugs. “For your butt!”
“I know what butt plugs are.” He perused them, examining the different rows. “Now this I’d be into.”
“Mmm-hmm. Butt plugs are good times.” She picked up a steel one from the middle shelf. “This is my favorite. It’s got a little loop, so if I wanted I could tie a tail onto it.”
Mitchell took the toy, surprised at how heavy it was. “You like wearing a tail?”
“Maybe.” Hannah shrugged and replaced the toy on the shelf. “Could be fun. I like lots of things.”
“Hence this section over here?” This time, Mitchell was the one who tugged her over to a section of kink supplies. A rack of paddles, floggers, and crops hung, with more implements than he would probably ever use, and then a bunch of cuffs and collars lined another separate rack. “Damn. You really sell this much kink stuff?”
“Not as much as I thought I would when I invested.” She frowned. “It mostly just sits here.”
“Have you thought about marketing especially to some of the kink communities? I imagine there are some in this area.” Mitchell rubbed his chin. “Or maybe do some online distribution?”
“Yeah, I have an online shop that does pretty well.” Hannah frowned. Obviously there was something going on with that idea, so he changed the subject.
“Now what’s here? Does anybody really need this much lube?” Mitchell gestured at the rack of lube.
“There’s all kinds! People have allergies and preferences and like lube for different purposes. It’s a high-margin item and an easy add-on, so I carry a lot of it.” She tapped one of the bottles. “Good shit.”
“So.” Mitchell put his hands on his hips. “What are we packing up for the festival?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to decide. I was hoping I could talk over some ideas with you and see what you think? You’re good at marketing.”
“That’s mostly Ben’s department, but I help.”
“All right. Let’s start.”
He helped her select a bunch of different items, mostly letting her do the choosing and then giving feedback if she seemed really stuck between two options. She didn’t seem to actually need much of his help, but it was nice to hang out with her. Maybe that’s why she’d invited him. That was nice to imagine.
“Do you sell more in your store, or online?”
“In the store. I do pretty well online, but most of my business comes from in-person sales. And I work with a marketing firm, but it’s expensive, and I’m not seeing the exact results I want.” Hannah fiddled with one of the dildos she was holding. It was an odd sight, watching her flipping a wobbly bright-blue dick back and forth in her hand without much thought. She sighed, setting the dick back on the rack and then leaning against the counter, tilting her head to look up at the ceiling. “I hate doing anything half-assed. I want everything to be just right, or I’d rather not do it at all. I don’t want to be barely scraping by. I want to be a success.”
“Perfectionism?”
She snorted. “Not that hard to tell, is it?”
Perfectionism never worked out well. Young chefs from culinary school dealt with that, approaching every dish wanting to get the exact right sear every time and determined to master one dish before moving on to another. If they couldn’t break the habit, they never made it through. “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. Small businesses are challenging, and you sound like maybe you’ve got unreasonable expectations.”
Hannah made a face, and fine. He wasn’t going to push the matter anymore. If she didn’t want help, he didn’t need to give her any help. She could do all of this herself.
Instead of pushing past his phrases with some kind of twisted logic, though, she changed the subject entirely. “So I’ve got a question for you. You’ve been living with Ben for almost seven years now, right?
Mitchell nodded. “Somewhere around there.”
“When did you start fucking?”
That was a quicker memory. “Two years ago.” The thought came back to him almost immediately, of Ben leaning against his bedroom door frame while he was pacing manically back and forth, worried about their upcoming restaurant inspection by a well-known regional food critic. Ben had been so calm, so nonchalant as he offered to take Mitchell’s mind off everything. That was the first time they’d ever confronted the tension between them head-on, and after that night, it had become a regular occurrence, something they returned to without question.
He’d
been spacing out. Hannah wore a little grin on her face. “You go back a ways there? Having a few good memories?”
His face heated. No use denying it. “A few.” He smiled.
“You want to know what I think?” She lined up the cases of sex toys behind the counter and turned to face Mitchell, her expression daring him to comment.
He could go there. “What? What do you think?”
“I think you’re both in denial. I think you’re both pretending this is a no-strings-attached sex thing, but you’re totally into each other.” She nodded, completely smug.
Yeah, it made sense that she’d think that. Hannah, who he was beginning to think saw everything in black-and-white, was trying to fit them into the boxes she understood. “I’ve heard that before.” He got to his feet and folded up the chair he was sitting on, returning it behind the counter. “It’s not really that big a deal.”
“You love him?”
Mitchell’s stomach twisted. God, he hated this question. He ignored it every time it came up in his head, because it was a question he didn’t really want to confront. “I care about him a lot. I want him to be successful and happy. I like spending time with him.” That felt generic, and in some ways it was. “I feel that way about all my friends. The people I do Crossfit with, my employees at the restaurant, lots of people.”
Hannah’s face said she was not convinced. “Yeah, yeah, general love of humanity. Really vague and altruistic, Mitchell.” The way she said his name was like an accusation, but not angry. “Really. Ben isn’t different? He’s not special? You feel the same about him as you do about all the people in your restaurant?” She tipped her head to the side. “Really?”
