by Finn, Emilia
“Uh…”
Mac slides his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for a side hug. “Mom, you remember Eric from the diner? He’s friends with the groom’s side.”
Her face flames redder. “Um…”
“We just ran into each other, and he was saying how he had this awesome story to tell, but seeing as I don’t have time to listen to old people stories, I thought maybe you’d hang out with him.”
“Mac!”
“He thinks you look pretty in that dress.” Hip bumping her a little closer, Mac flashes a wide grin and latches on to his friend Ben as he passes. From the center of our group to invisible the next second, Mac leaves behind the carnage of his meddling while I flounder for something to say and Katrina grasps for an excuse to race outta here.
Fucking her in the dark is one thing. It satiated a hunger that’s been brewing for years. But a date. In the light. Where I have to remain honorable.
“Um…” I clear the nerves from my throat. “I didn’t say that about your dress.”
Clear green eyes blaze with humiliation. “You don’t like my dress? What the hell is your problem?”
“No, yes! I do. I think your dress is beautiful, but I didn’t say it out loud yet. Mac made that up.”
“He made it up… so it’s not true? Do you think I look like shit?” She lifts her hands and peers down her body. “I get one day off a year. Today’s that day, and my son begged me to come with him to this thing, since everyone knew there would be baby news. I put on a stupid dress so my son could be proud to have me on his arm, but then he ditches and you call me ugly.”
“What? No!” I grab her arm before she bolts. “I never said you were ugly. You know that’s not true. Geez. I just said…” I run a hand over my face, step closer, and lower my voice. “I already told you I think you’re beautiful. The most beautiful thing I ever saw. We… ya know?” Roses and sex. Her scent slides into my lungs and helps me relax. “What we did last night finished on good terms, right? I figure we’re cool, and I promised I would never tease you. But then your kid swaggers in and gives me a talk about how I might ask you out, and if I did, he’d be cool with it. He caught me off guard, so now I’m kinda floundering. Yes, I think your dress is pretty. I think your dress is beautiful, and I also noticed your heels, in case you were wondering.”
“You did?” She lifts her foot and twists her ankle, then her eyes come back to mine with a little less hurt and a little more playfulness. “I never wear heels, so this was fun.”
“They look good. Make your ass look great.”
“Huh?”
Ah shit. “Hmm?”
“You said something about my ass?”
“Um…”
Relaxing a little closer so her breasts touch my arm, Katrina moves out of the way of the moving crowd and takes up space where her son was a moment ago. Back against the wall, shoulder touching mine, she even lifts a foot and rests it against the wall. “I seriously don’t know what to do about you, Eric. You kinda look like you should be Rico Suave. Like, from afar, you certainly look like you’ve got your shit under control and have to beat the bitches back with a stick. And it’s okay, because your chest is broad, your arms are thick, so swinging that stick won’t tire you out. But then I come closer, and shit gets kinda weird again.”
“Except in the dark.”
A throaty groan plays at the back of her throat as her cheeks warm. “Right. In the dark, you find your rhythm.”
“It’s because I get nervous,” I admit. “I say you smell nice or that I like your ass in heels because my brain is so focused on your body, it forgets to filter my words. I don’t know how to talk to women the way you think I can. I don’t know how to talk to you in a way that might eventually lead to us getting a meal or exchanging phone numbers. Sex is easy. It’s hot, fast. We don’t even have to talk because we fit so well. I let my actions speak, ya know? Sex is just…” I exhale. “It’s easy. But then your kid starts asking what my intentions are, and I remember this can’t be neat and tidy like he might expect.”
“Mac asked you your intentions?” Her face pales. “Does he know–”
“He doesn’t know about last night. Trust me,” I chuckle and think of his dick shooting threats. “He doesn’t know. But he’s got the idea I might wanna date you, and he told me he’d be cool with that so long as I don’t fuck and run.”
“Oh my God.” Her eyes widen. “He said that?”
“He said the fourteen-year-old version of that. He wants you to be happy, and I guess he didn’t really care to ask my thoughts on dating. Now he figures it’s a done deal, and we’re probably gonna get married or some shit.”
“Whoa!” She shoots off the wall and turns to face me. “Hold the hell up!”
“Relax.” I slide my hand along her wrist and pull her back so we’re side by side and my hand is hidden by her skirt. It’s all I can offer, a discreet version of a supportive hug. “I’m not looking for a wife. I’m not looking for serious. I’m just…”
She turns to me. “Fucking and running?”
“No! Well…” My brows pull tight with concentration. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that you’re beautiful. I know that I wanted a little of your time. And when I got it, I wasn’t disappointed.”
Her voice crackles. “But now you’re done?”
“Not necessarily.” Leaning my head back against the wall, I study the ceiling and try to rearrange my thoughts. What do I want? What am I willing to give, and in exchange, accept? “I’m not done with you, but I don’t know how to proceed, either. You’re just…” I pull in a deep breath. “I’m not looking for forever. I can’t. That’s not something I can do. But you’re not looking for a one-night stand, either.”
“Says who?” she whispers. Stepping just another inch closer, her hip brushes against mine and brings my breath to a fast halt. “I’m not sorry for what we did. You delivered on your promise; you didn’t tease the next day, and my kid is still safe and oblivious. I’m saying it was a success.”
“You want more of that?”
“Well, I sure as hell don’t want a husband.” She laughs softly. “I don’t want a man in my home, Eric. I don’t want a new complication in my world or to give my son a sense of something that’s only smoke and mirrors.”
I turn to her with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“A dad.” She studies me with intense eyes. “My son’s biological father is a deadbeat, so I’ve been working extra hard to compensate for that. But I’ll be damned if I date again and bring a new man into his life every few months. We’re not playing that game where I try to fill our family photos just because of society’s rules. If I wanted to fill those pictures, I could just invite Zeke over for dinner. He’d come, because he loves a free meal; I’d get the pictures, and our lives would go on as normal. Bottom line is, I’m not bringing more baggage into our world.”
“So you’re saying…?”
She expels a deep breath. “I’m saying one-night stands are exactly what I want. With you. With other men. Doesn’t matter who, as long as they go the way last night did. You held up your side of the deal; I came, and no one knows what we did. So if you want in on that, I’d be happy to drop in after work more often. But no matter which man I decide to spend my time with, not one of them will walk through my front door and make my kid think something is happening that isn’t. It’s a hard rule, and you talking to my son tonight already breaks that rule.”
“Wait.” My heart gives a thump that shocks me. “I can’t talk to your kid?”
“You can’t let him think we’re something that we’re not. You’re a customer at the diner. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes. I won’t tell him any different, so if he gets the wrong idea, that’s on you, and I won’t play nice if you mess with his head.”
I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, because I’m way more invested in this than I should be. Way more than she is. “You make it sound so clinical. I mea
n, I don’t want a wife either. I don’t want a relationship. But it almost sounds like I’m as valuable as a dildo, and well, shit, you could buy one of those online and have it in your bedside drawer for your convenience. A dildo means you don’t need to visit the garage in the middle of the night. It means there’s no chance of getting caught.”
Damn her to hell and back when she shrugs and speaks in monotone. “I have a dildo. I can take care of my own needs when I need to. But you’re one step up from that. You’re useful, and I like you. I think you’re sexy, and no dildo ever made me come so many times in one night. But you don’t reach the status where I care where you are on a day-to-day basis. If you skip a day at the diner, I won’t cry about it. I won’t check in with you or nag you to bring bread. I have a life with my son. I’m busy and truly can’t afford more baggage, but forty minutes each night is something I could get on board with.”
“Harsh.”
She shrugs. “It’s my reality. I know it’s not ideal, so I’ll understand if you’re not interested in the same kind of agreement.”
“Well, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” I rush out. “I just said it was clinical.”
“Did last night feel clinical?” Switching feet, she plops the lifted heel to the floor, then raises the other and rests it on the wall. “When you were fucking me on my own car, did it feel cold and clinical?”
Her hot pussy wrapped around me. Her succulent hips in my hands. Her fragrant hair in my face. “Not even a little.”
“Exactly.” Flashing a wide smile, Katrina pushes off the wall and catches her son and his friend on their way past. She pulls the duo close and brushes hair off Mac’s face. “Baby, you can’t sell me to strange men. It’s bad manners.”
Mac’s raging eyes snap to me. “You snitched? I said you could take her out for a meal! Why are you snitching?”
“Wait up!” Benny, Mac’s best friend, grabs his shoulder and spins him around. “You told FuckWhit he could date your mom? What the hell is your problem, dumbass? We keep the wolves away. We don’t toss the women into the fuckin’ forest.”
“Mind your own business.” Mac pushes his older friend off and turns to me. “Why the hell would you snitch?”
When Katrina’s eyes sparkle with a message I can’t quite decipher, I run with what I’ve got and try my best. “So I took your advice and mentioned how maybe we could get dinner. When your mom hesitated, I mentioned how you said it was okay.”
“Blair!” Benny smacks his friend. “Why would you tell him it’s okay? Oz married my mom, and it’s still not okay!”
“Because he’s not a prick!” Mac tosses out. “He’s not an asshole, so I figured if anyone was safe, it would be DeWhit.”
“Nobody is safe!” Ben snaps. “Nobody! They’re all pricks.”
“Benny, honey?” Katrina pats the boy’s broad chest and pushes him back a step. “Shut up now. Go find your mom; I’m certain I just saw Oz smack her butt.”
“That fucker!”
As soon as the kid storms away, Katrina pats Mac’s collar down the way Laine did mine. “Honey, I appreciate what you tried to do, but I’m not interested in dating. If, at some point, I find myself lonely and in the mood to date, I’ll make my own arrangements. On my own terms.” She purses her lips to push the point home. “Please don’t try to set me up with anyone ever again.”
“You were alone on your birthday.” His narrowed eyes span from his mom to me. “You put goop on your face and watched a crappy movie.”
“I exfoliated my face because it makes me happy, and I watched a movie with you and Grandpa, because that also makes me happy. You don’t get to judge my choices.”
“But you coulda been at a fancy restaurant.” His light eyes almost plead. “Somebody’s gotta show you the good life, Mom. I can’t do it yet. I didn’t make any money yet.” He nods in my direction. “So why can’t it be him?”
“Because I’m not a cow, and this isn’t a sale yard. Honey, even if I were dating, I wouldn’t be with a guy on my birthday when I could be with you. You’re my favorite person in the world, so why would I trade you for a date?”
“You’re lame,” he pouts. “Super duper lame. You gotta find some fun in your life before it’s too late.”
“Babe! I’m thirty, not ninety.”
“Thirty is old! Next thing you know, you’ll blink and bam! Forty! Ask DeWhit. I bet the last decade flew.”
“Kid! I’m not old.”
“Macallistar,” Katrina snaps with finality. “Leave it alone.” She grabs his shoulder and turns him. “You don’t get to set me up or tell me how to live my life. Eric is my friend, but that’s all this is. Go hug Jess and tell her congrats, grab something to eat, then find Benny before he murders Oz. This conversation is over.”
* * *
Nobody was shot in Jess’ home tonight. No one got mad she was having a baby or freaked out about the wedding news. Some of the guys got a little quiet when asked how they felt about it, but overall, it went as well as one could hope, and nobody died. After my conversation with the Blairs, Mac made himself scarce, hung around with his friends most of the night, and stared at a certain dark-haired girl while she laughed with her friends. Katrina patted my chest just as condescendingly as she patted Ben’s and Mac’s, then she walked away, lost herself in the crushing crowd, and eventually left without saying a word to me.
I’m just a sex toy. A convenience. And though I didn’t want anything more than what she’s offering, having it so coldly shoved in my face kinda stings. I’m not the guy she’ll find her happily ever after with. My life makes it literally impossible; my history makes it selfish to even try, but like a spoiled brat, being told no makes you want something you can’t have.
So now I sit on the couch that came with my rental and watch my reflection in the switched off television. My apartment is dark, the only light coming through my windows from the streetlights outside. Sitting forward on the couch and knowing I should take my ass to bed so I don’t end up late for work tomorrow, I still rest my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hands. My eyes constantly flick between the door and Gemma’s framed photo sitting beside the TV.
Two women.
Three, if you count Callie.
Two wildly opposite halves of my life, but at the same time, eerily similar with the way they make my heart pound. I shouldn’t even be considering an affair of one-night stands with Katrina, let alone getting bent out of shape about a relationship neither of us want. My life was all about my wife. It should still be about my wife, so why do I obsess? Why am I letting this shit drag me down after so many years of keeping it locked away?
Because I’m selfish and stupid.
Because my sacrifices were obviously not enough, and the universe is going to smack me down again just to make sure I was paying attention.
I cast a glance toward my clock and close my eyes with a sigh when it clicks over to midnight. Disappointment throbs in my heart, though I know it damn well shouldn’t.
Walk away, Eric. Let her go back to her regular life without dragging her into the pits of hell all for the sake of a fast fuck and a fantasy fulfilled.
I climb to my feet with an exhausted grunt and turn toward the bedroom. It’s been a long day. I mean, shit, it’s been a long decade, and the end still feels so far away. Will my purgatory never end? Will life one day feel like it’s being lived? Or will it always feel so… clinical?
“Fuck.”
I dig my hands into my pockets and toss my things – wallet, phone, keys – onto a small side table as I pass through the darkness. It’s time to go to sleep. Time to get my life under control and stop living in this space I’ve put myself in.
I’ve found the earthly embodiment of a pause. I exist, but without meaning.
I live to see my friends happy, to catch up with their antics at work, to secure homes or investigate sleazy exes. I work hard and as many hours as the guys will let me. But my own personal development stopped years ago; my own g
oals and plans vanished like smoke the second my world was irreparably changed.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go, but shit happens, right? And we can’t change it. We can only move forward and hope for the best.
I cross my living room and move through my bedroom door. I want her to come. I don’t want her to come. I want her to be mine, but I want her to want me beyond a convenient dick. I want to stop feeling like a pussy with unrequited feelings, and I want to stop feeling guilty every time I want something that isn’t Gemma.
I want my life to make sense again, to feel the way it felt back in high school where our path ahead was a straight line. It was all so easy with Gemma: date, fall in love, stay in love, marriage, grow old together. It was all so A to Z and predictable, but any path I consider now is a minefield of potholes, deadly explosives, razor wires and steep ledges, and an almost guarantee that neither of us will make it out alive.
And yet… a creaking of my outside stairs makes me pause. My first thought isn’t intruder, but of hope, of fantasies, of Katrina’s floral scent filling my lungs and intoxicating me while I bury myself deep inside. At another creak outside, I take a few steps in the direction of the front door with a lifted brow. My first thought should be to check my gun and prepare to protect my home, but it’s not. So when a whispered swear penetrates my ears, when my brain and heart jump to attention and Katrina’s voice registers in my mind, I run. I sprint. Through the living room, through the small kitchen, I slam my hip on the table as I pass and crush my toe with the door when I swing it wide without thought.
She stands right in front of me with lit eyes and quirked lips. Her tits almost spill out of the top of her dress, and her heels are already in her hands.
“Got time for me?”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” I pull her into my arms and up so her legs wrap around my hips. Her ass fills my hands, her chest pressing against mine, then I turn and slam the door in the same second her tongue slides into my mouth and she sets my blood on fire.
