by Noelle Adams
“You’re definitely not making it up. That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Hands down.”
Relief reflected in her expression as she laid her head back down on his chest. “That’s what I thought.”
He was going to have to take care of the condom soon or it would start to leak, but he wasn’t quite ready to move yet.
He wanted to enjoy this fantasy interlude for just another minute before the real world started to catch up.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Robert was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling his clothes on.
He was getting ready to leave.
Amanda wouldn’t have minded if he’d wanted to spend the night. She’d have been fine with it. Even liked it. But she wasn’t going to suggest it, and he clearly assumed that once the sex was over, it was time for him to head home.
It was probably smart. She’d had the time of her life, but those kinds of experiences never lasted. Better to end it now while it was still really good.
After all, it was a one-night stand. It wasn’t like it could continue.
It wasn’t like either of them would want that.
She’d pulled on an oversized T-shirt so she wouldn’t have to lie around naked, and she adjusted it around her as she sat up and folded her legs beneath her. She watched him pull up his pants and button his shirt, not bothering to tuck it in. Then he put on his socks. Ran a hand through his hair as if he knew it was a mess.
It was. It was also the sexiest thing ever.
“It really was amazing,” she said, feeling like they needed to bring this thing to a suitable conclusion rather than him just walking out. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
She almost—almost—suggested doing it again. She knew he only did casual relationships, but they could still be casual and have great sex more than once.
But she also knew herself. She wasn’t a casual person. She could handle this much without a problem, but any more and she might start to get attached.
And the biggest mistake she could make was getting attached to this particular man. He’d never let himself get bound by emotional strings, so it would only bring her frustration and heartache.
She was smarter than that. She’d already had her heart broken by harboring feelings for a man who didn’t want her. She wasn’t going to do it again, not now that she was finally recovering.
So this would be it. A heart-stopping memory. And nothing more.
“So I guess I’ll see you around then,” she said. “I’m sure there will be another wedding soon.”
He smiled and stood up. There was a flicker of something bittersweet in his expression before it disappeared behind his typical cool composure. “Absolutely. There’s always another wedding.”
“For people who aren’t us.”
“Exactly.”
She nodded. She felt kind of strange but basically good. She could do this. It didn’t have to be a big mistake. “Okay. Well, drive safe going home.”
He gave one of those soft huffs of laughter that he did a lot around her. “I always do.”
“Okay. Bye then.” She thought about getting up and walking him to the door. Maybe that was the normal thing to do. But it felt awkward. She felt better staying right where she was.
“I’ll lock the front door behind me,” he said before he walked out of the room.
Then he was gone. She listened and heard the front door close. Then his SUV start up and drive away.
He’d left. Her one-night stand was over.
It was too late (or early) to message any of her friends and tell them about it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to spill. So instead she lay back down on the bed, hugged her knees to her chest, and giggled privately.
The night definitely hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected.
five
ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Amanda was trying on another bridesmaid dress.
Weddings—like babies—seemed to happen in clusters. Her good friends were mostly those she’d made at school, so they were all around her same age. Most of them had gone to college and/or grad school and started careers for themselves. But they were all approaching thirty now, and it seemed to be the year when they were deciding it was time to get married.
Not her. She hadn’t had a date since her one-night stand with Robert five weeks ago. Her dry period wasn’t because of him. Of course not. She knew exactly what their night together meant, and she wasn’t foolish enough to expect or hope for anything different. It was only because she hadn’t been asked out by a guy she had any interest in.
She wasn’t holding out for Robert. He’d sent her a text the day after that night, saying he’d had a good time and he appreciated everything she’d given him. She’d been surprised and touched by the note and had worked on her response for a ridiculously long time, making sure she sounded sincere but also not too clingy or naive. But she hadn’t heard from him since.
It was fine.
It was all good.
It was just as well.
She didn’t want Robert for anything but sex anyway.
Currently she was a bridesmaid for another of her school friends, and they were out in Azalea at Ri’s bridal shop for the final fitting before the wedding.
This wedding was more casual. Outside in a garden. The dresses were fun and flirty in a lovely dusky pink with a wide, twirly skirt. Maybe they were over-the-top girly, but Amanda didn’t care. It was the best dress she’d ever had as a bridesmaid.
She gave a silent, happy squeal as she spun around in front of a multipaned mirror. The dress made her look lush and curvy, and the color was great with her skin and hair.
“I love it!” she said, turning around to face Ri, who had on a duplicate of the same dress.
“I do too. I think they’re gorgeous.” Ri came over to stand beside her, spinning in front of the mirrors the way Amanda had. “Yours looks perfect. Is it too tight in the boobs?”
“No. I don’t think so. It feels right. Is it pulling weird?”
“No.” Ri gave the fabric a few tugs and nodded in satisfaction. “It’s great. What I’d do for boobs like yours.”
Amanda laughed. “Oh please. I wished all my life for perfect legs and long slim bones like yours so I’d look as good in clothes as you. We all see our own imperfections. I don’t know why we do that to ourselves.”
“Me either. But we definitely do.” Ri turned around as Serena came out of the second dressing room, wearing her own version of the dress. “Gorgeous, Serena!”
“It’s so pretty.” Serena flounced the skirt around. “It’s not terrible with my red hair, is it?”
Amanda replied, “No. It’s stunning. People who say redheads can’t wear pink don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Okay. Good. I know we already tested it out when Shelly was choosing the dresses, but I kept visualizing the wrong shade of pink and getting worried. Keith said I was being stupid, that Shelly wouldn’t have picked the color if it was horrible for me, but of course I didn’t believe him.”
“Well, Keith was right. Shelly isn’t petty or selfish, and the color looks great.”
The three of them preened and twirled in the mirror for a little while, and Ri made a couple of adjustments to Serena’s bodice. Then they went to take off the dresses and change into their regular clothes.
When Amanda came out, Ri had poured them all glasses of prosecco, so they sat down in the store’s fancy rose-colored chairs to chat.
Serena told them a story about a guy she’d met at the gym who kept asking her out until she finally told him she’d committed to five years of celibacy just to get him to stop.
“It’s not even entirely untrue,” she said. “I haven’t had sex since my divorce. It’s been almost two years. The truth is I don’t miss it that much.”
Ri giggled. “I don’t blame you for not missing sex with your ex-husband.
But a few orgasms occasionally are nice.”
Serena rolled her eyes. “I can give those to myself. I’m far happier that way. I’m really not at all interested in getting stuck with another man.” In an obvious attempt to change the subject, she asked, “What about you, Amanda?”
“What about me?”
“Are you going the celibate route too?”
“No, I’m not.” Amanda frowned. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’ve mentioned three different guys in the past month who asked you out, and you said no to all three. I thought that lawyer was cute, and he seemed pretty nice.”
“He was. I just wasn’t very interested.” Amanda felt a little uncomfortable. Put on the spot. Which was ridiculous because the questioning was friendly and natural. “I don’t know. I haven’t been in the mood for dates lately.”
“Why not? It’s not still Dave, is it? Because I really thought you were getting over that.”
“I am over it! Totally over it. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“That’s what I thought. So what is it that’s holding you back?” Serena’s green eyes were wide and innocent. She clearly had no underlying suspicions about the answer to her question.
Ri, however, did. “Is there maybe someone else who keeps distracting you from other men?”
Serena straightened up. “What? Is there? Who is it? And why didn’t you tell me before?”
“There’s nothing to tell! Seriously. There’s no other guy.” Amanda’s cheeks were flushing, and she hated that. She only seemed to blush with or about Robert, and it was the most infuriating thing.
Another reason to be annoyed with him.
“I know you’ve been saying that, but you’ve seemed kind of distracted and blah lately.” Ri’s teasing smile turned into a more serious expression. “There’s got to be a reason for it. All I know is that the last time you were really excited about something was when you told me about that weird night with...” She trailed off, discretion catching up with her concern.
Serena looked from Ri to Amanda. “Who? What weird night? Why haven’t you told me any of this?”
“Because it’s nothing!” Amanda rubbed her face, giving up her attempt to hide the whole thing. “It’s really not. And anyway, I did tell you. She’s talking about me getting drunk with Robert Castleman at Stacey’s wedding. That’s what she’s talking about. You already heard about it and probably forgot because it was nothing.”
“Oh. Oh. So you have a thing for Robert Castleman?”
“No! I don’t have a thing for him. We just had that night where I got drunk. And then... Shit.” She licked her lips and decided there was no reason to keep holding back. “Well, the truth is last month we... we... also had a one-night-stand thing.”
Both Serena and Ri were shocked and thrilled by that revelation. It took a couple of minutes for them to process it and subdue their gasps and giggles.
Amanda gave them a minute to get themselves under control. “It was just a random thing. I mean, it was good. Really good. But we both knew it wasn’t anything more. And I’m definitely not blah about it now. I enjoyed it. But it’s over.”
“But that’s the reason you haven’t been interested in other guys lately?” Serena asked.
“I guess so. But it’s not because I want Robert. It’s just because the sex was really fantastic. And I can’t imagine any of the guys who asked me out giving me that much in bed. Plus I really just don’t have the energy. I don’t have a thing for Robert Castleman.”
There. That was the truth.
Her friends didn’t look convinced.
THAT EVENING, ROBERT sat in his favorite leather chair, drinking scotch as he half watched the news on a cable network and half read news on his phone.
He always worked late, often not getting home until seven or eight in the evening. Lately that had been his favorite way of relaxing afterward, grumbling to himself about politics and world events and doing everything he could not to let his mind wander down dangerous avenues.
Today was Saturday, but he’d gone into work anyway since he didn’t have anything else that needed doing. He’d gotten takeout for dinner on his way home. Now it was eight o’clock. The news was bad, but the scotch was good, so things could have been worse.
He was mentally arguing with the commentator on cable when his phone buzzed with a text. It was Taylor, which surprised him since she only texted if there was something to say.
I’m outside. Dad and Martha sent over some cake. You there?
Arching his eyebrows, he texted her to come on in and then got up to unlock the door.
She was walking up the porch steps when he opened the door for her. She gave him a quick once-over and frowned. “You weren’t in bed, were you?”
“You think I go to bed at eight o’clock?”
“Not really. But you’re in your pj’s, so I just asked.”
He scowled at his niece as he stepped aside to let her in. He was wearing a pair of blue flannel pants and a T-shirt. He wouldn’t call them pj’s. “I changed clothes when I got home since I wasn’t planning to go out. Are you telling me you don’t do the same thing?”
“Yes, I do the same thing.” Taylor was scowling back at him, but it was a normal expression for her, so he wasn’t worried. “But I didn’t think you would on a Saturday night.”
He normally wouldn’t. Normally he’d be out on a date right now, but he hadn’t asked anyone out for nearly two months.
He wasn’t foolish enough to say that, however. He just gave her a lofty look as she walked through the living room and dining room into the kitchen where she set the container of cake on the counter.
“Why did they send me cake?” he asked, pulling up the lid to investigate. It looked good. About a quarter of some sort of spice cake.
“Martha made it, and they had a bunch extra,” Taylor explained, reaching into the refrigerator to help herself to a bottle of the expensive sparkling water he liked. Martha was his brother’s second wife. “And I think she and Dad are worried about you.”
Robert was afraid of that. “Why are they worried?” He knew why, but he pretended not to because that was what he always did.
“You know why. You’ve been holed up here for weeks now, not going out or anything.”
“I haven’t been holed up. I go to work every day. I do errands. I do everything I need to do.”
“But you haven’t dated. You always date, and you haven’t for ages now.”
“Not ages. A few weeks.”
“More than a few weeks. It’s been lots of weeks. They’re worried.”
“They shouldn’t be. Dating isn’t a necessary requirement for a healthy life.”
“I know that.” She looked faintly annoyed with him, but that was a normal expression for her too. “But your habits have changed. Significantly. And when our habits change, people who love us worry. If I stopped being a bad-natured hermit and started smiling and giggling all the time, people would worry about me. And when you stop dating, people worry about you. This can’t surprise you.”
Of course it didn’t surprise him. He’d just been vaguely hoping it would go unnoticed. “Well, I’m telling you, and you can tell them, that there’s nothing to worry about. I appreciate the cake, but I don’t need charitable offerings. I’m fine.”
“If you’re fine, that’s good. But you might as well just tell us what’s going on, or you’re going to keep getting surprise visits and sundry baked goods.”
“Nothing is going on,” he muttered, taking a pinch of the cake and popping it into his mouth, mostly for something to do.
It was delicious, but he wasn’t in the mood to really enjoy it right now. He loved Taylor, but he wished she would go away so he could go back to doomscrolling and grumbling about the news.
“Well, I’m sorry, but we don’t believe you.” Taylor sighed and leaned against the counter, taking a long swallow of her water before she continued, not meeting his eyes, “Did you get
your heart broken or something?”
He jerked. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re acting like you got your heart broken. It’s fine if you did. Everyone does eventually. We just want to help.” She still wasn’t looking at him. He knew his niece—she’d rather have a root canal than share feelings.
Robert didn’t like it either. He began instinctively, “I’m not acting like—” He broke off the unconvincing defense before he completed it since he knew it would get nowhere. “I’m telling you you’re misinterpreting things. I haven’t had a serious relationship since college. Or ever really. I’m not in the position to get my heart broken.”
“Yeah, I know. But sometimes it happens anyway.” She gave him a quick glance before looking down at her water. “Was it Amanda?” she asked, almost swallowing over the words.
He jerked again, sloshing the scotch in the glass he’d carried with him into the kitchen. “What did she tell you?” he asked softly. Slowly.
“Nothing. She really didn’t. I promise. I just noticed a few things. You’ve always stared at her a lot. And she’s acting weird too, and I... Oh shit. This is awkward as hell, and I’m no good at it at all, but you’re family, Uncle Robert. And we’re all worried about you. So if she... I’m sorry if things didn’t work out.”
He could tell how uncomfortable she was with this whole situation. Just as uncomfortable as he was.
He was relieved Amanda hadn’t made their night together the subject of gossip among her friends, although he hadn’t really thought she would. But the fact that Taylor had picked up on something anyway concerned him.
He didn’t want anyone knowing what had happened.
He didn’t want anyone recognizing that he was still brooding about her, thinking about that night, wishing it could happen again.
He didn’t want anyone realizing that the reason he hadn’t been dating was because he didn’t want anyone other than Amanda.
He didn’t want anyone seeing into his soul.
He’d made one attempt the day after their night together to see if she’d be open for more, but her response to his text—while thoughtful—hadn’t offered any hint that she wanted to see him again. That had been his one possibility. If she’d made it clear she wanted more. Since she hadn’t, he wasn’t going to throw away everything he’d always believed about life and open himself up to getting hurt.
