His bristling soon turns into kissing, and within moments, he’s slowly pulling down my unbuttoned jeans.
“And what do you think you’re doing?”
Looking up at me with those gorgeous green eyes, he says, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
I scowl and tap a finger to my lips, considering his question, which is when he flips me onto the bed beneath him.
“But Seth and his friend will be here soon.”
“Oh, well.” Nuzzling me, he kisses my neck. “He’ll understand.”
I’m pleased to report I’ve no inclination to dodge this bullet.
***
“Seeing as we got a little sidetracked—not that I’m complaining or anything…” As I pull on my t-shirt, I can smell whatever Seth has started for dinner downstairs. “We didn’t get to finish discussing wedding plans.”
“Okay. What else did you want to discuss?” he asks, pulling on his Levi’s. “Food? Song for first dance? Or do you even want dancing?”
“Actually, I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, but was wondering about your choice for best man. You already know Carly’s going to be my maid of honor, but you haven’t shared your pick.”
Sitting on the bed, he strums his fingers on his knees, hesitating.
“A-a-a-nd your body language tells me you want to ask Seth.” I laugh.
“Will that bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? It’s your wedding, too—pick who you want.” Although, I was secretly expecting he would choose his father.
“And what are your thoughts on the bachelor party?” Buttoning his shirt, he adds, “This is Seth we’re talking about.”
“Look, I realize some brides like to make stipulations on the bachelor party, but I’m not one of them. You only get one. So have your strippers, your wild party, if that’s what you want.” Then I sit in his lap and wrap my arms around him. “I take that back. I do have one condition: look but don’t touch.”
***
It’s an hour after we’ve finished the delicious dinner of Butter Chicken that Seth prepared for us, and the four of us share our third bottle of wine as we remain seated at the kitchen table. The dishes have been cleared away, and I’m having a lovely time talking to Seth’s date, Gretchen, who at least appears to be closer to Seth’s age. If I had my guess, I’d say she’s two or three years younger than me, with naturally blonde hair and freckles faintly sprinkled across her nose.
After telling her about my children and grandchild while Kiran and Seth carry on their conversation, I ask her if she has any children of her own.
“I do. I have two sons, one twenty-four and the other twenty.” Earlier, we had learned that she is recently divorced and met Seth when she hired him as her realtor.
As we finish our dessert, it’s becoming apparent that all four of us are sloshed. I know I am, and the conversation has gotten pretty loose, with raunchy jokes aplenty and embarrassing stories from our youth. Kiran is especially jovial, finding everything Seth says highly entertaining. When I take our plates to the kitchen sink, Gretchen joins me.
“It was so nice of you and Kiran to have me,” she says. “Thank you.”
“It’s our pleasure! So what do you think of Seth?” Normally, I wouldn’t be this nosy and familiar, but I tend to get that way when I’ve had a few.
She grins with a glint her eye. “I like him. A lot.”
“Do you?” I smile back. “He can be quite the charmer, can’t he?”
Listen to me playing the little matchmaker when I have absolutely no idea how Seth feels about her. However, I like her.
“What are you girls talking about over there?” Seth calls.
“Beg your pardon,” I say. “Who are you calling girls?” We return to the table and I pick up the bottle of wine to freshen each of our glasses.
“I don’t know,” Gretchen says, affectionately bumping her shoulder to Seth’s. “I kind of like being called a girl.”
“You like that, eh?” Seth pulls her in for a kiss, then she looks at Kiran and me and blushes.
“Maybe you’re right, Gretchen.” I wrinkle my nose and take a sip of wine. “It’s better than being called an old hag, which is what I’ve been feeling like lately.” I accidentally snort.
“You may feel like an old hag, but you look like a girl.” Kiran touches my hair. “My girl.”
“Aww!” I beam at him. “That’s so sweet. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Hey, I have a great idea,” Seth says.
The mischief in his eyes makes me uneasy, and I hope he isn’t going to suggest getting stoned.
“How about we play some strip poker?”
“Wh-a-a-a-t?” I sound like the guy on the Cox Cable commercials.
“Are you being serious?” Gretchen asks.
“Why not? It’ll be fun! What d’ya say, cuz?”
A look of intrigue is on Kiran’s face and his eyes glow. “Anna?”
My mouth falls open. This willingness must be part of whatever thing he’s going through. “Uh, I don’t think I’m anywhere near drunk enough to consider strip poker as a foursome.” I look down my shirt to recall which bra I’m wearing and Gretchen giggles. “Plus, strip poker is unfairly designed in the men’s favor because it takes longer for us to see anything of yours before you see anything of ours, given that you don’t have boobs.”
“Yes, but we also don’t have the added clothing item of a bra,” Seth argues.
I give them all a half smile. “Look, I know this seems like a marvelous idea at the moment because we’re all lit, but when morning comes, I really don’t care to remember seeing your cousin’s junk. No offense, Seth.”
“None taken. And you’re making the assumption I’ll lose.”
The craziness of this idea must be sinking in because Kiran makes a face at my comment. “She has a point.”
“Of course I have a point!”
Determined to move forward with this, Seth tries another approach. “Okay, how about this. We’ll do a clean version. When a lady is down to the bra and panties, she’s out—if she chooses. When a man is down to his boxers…” He stops to address Kiran with concern. “You’re wearing boxers, right? Please tell me you don’t do tighty whities.” He busts out laughing at his own remark.
Kiran just shakes his head before taking a sip from his glass.
“No, he does not.” I place my hand on Kiran’s leg. “That would require an intervention.”
Seth turns to his date. “What do you think, Gretch?”
Looking at each of us, she sighs. “I think if we’re going to do this, I’m gonna need another drink.” She polishes off the last of her wine and slides her glass to the center of the table for a refill.
“You guys are something else.” Seth rolls his eyes and rises from his seat. “The clean version is pretty uneventful. Maybe you’ll get a little more adventurous once we start playing. I’m gonna go get a deck of cards.”
The three of us sit in silence while we wait for Seth to return. Picking up my glass and swirling it in small circles, I say, “If I’d known this was on the agenda for tonight, I would have worn some prettier underwear.”
“I wore my pretty underwear!” Gretchen says brightly.
She and I chuckle. Kiran quietly walks to the refrigerator and opens it, standing there a few moments.
“What are you looking for, sweetie?”
“Another bottle of wine,” he says without turning around. “We’ve almost finished that one off already.”
“Oh, I don’t think we have any more chilled.” I head to the pantry and locate another bottle. Then offering him a flirty smile, I hand it to him. “Stick it in the freezer.”
“Thanks!”
There’s something a little off about him when he takes the bottle from me—almost a forced enthusiasm. He rubs a hand against the front of his shirt before grinning and gives me a peck on the lips.
“Got some cards,” Seth announces upon returning.
�
��It’s been forever since I played poker,” Gretchen says. “You all will have to refresh my memory on which hand beats what.”
“How about you write it down for us, Seth?” I ask.
Twenty minutes later, Gretchen and Kiran have both lost their shoes and shirts, while Seth and I have managed to remain clothed with bare feet. I am praying to keep my shirt on, because Gretchen turns out to be surprisingly busty, with her pushup bra accentuating her girls in a most dramatic way. And though trying to be discreet, her sidelong glances reveal she has a definite appreciation for Kiran’s physique. I mean, who can blame her? He has an amazing chest, amazing arms…
Kiran, on the other hand, appears to be doing everything within his power not to look at Gretchen’s chest. It’s difficult—I get it. Even I can't stop looking at them. But then again, she’s sitting straight across from me.
Though still being good sports about it, Kiran and Gretchen have gotten a little quiet, while Seth and I laugh it up. “All I gotta say is if it comes time for me to lose my shirt, please allow me a moment to go stuff my bra, cuz I can’t compete with breastesses like that!” I say, pointing to Gretchen. I’ve stopped drinking, due to the horrendous hangover I’ll have in the morning, but I am toast, toast, toast.
Seth tears his eyes away from his cards to admire her. “She does have a lovely bosom, doesn’t she?” he says, so straight-faced. She responds with an appreciative smile.
“You stuff that bra and I’ll have to spank you,” Kiran says under his breath while staring at his hand.
I make a surprised, silly face at Seth and Gretchen, and the three of us hoot at his remark. “Can I get that in writing?” I ask with a teasing grin.
Oh my hell. I am so freakin’ drunk.
“I’m impressed you’re doing so well at the game, Anna,” Seth says. “Given the night you gave me a ride, you claimed to hate gambling.”
I carelessly lean forward, nearly showing my hand to everyone at the table. “I grew up in Vegas, baby. Maybe it’s in my blood.”
Out of nowhere, Seth begins chuckling and can’t stop. The three of us watch him, puzzled.
“What’s so funny?” Kiran asks.
He snorts a couple of times before containing himself. “You should have seen Anna that night…”
Panicking, my eyes grow large as I glare at Seth, trying to get his attention. However, he keeps his gaze on his cards.
“This cop pulls up beside us right as I was holding a joint in my hand. Her face! You should have seen it! I wish I had a camera.” He shakes his head.
Kiran eyes me with confusion, while I simply plant a frozen smile on my face.
“That’s it!” Seth points at me. “That was the face!” Then he starts in with that horrendous cackle of his.
At first, Gretchen bites her lip, looking nervously between Kiran and me. But soon, she is completely taken in by that contagious laugh and joins Seth.
Kiran lays his cards face down on the table. “I don’t understand. Were you two smoking pot on the drive home?”
“No! Absolutely not,” I say.
Seth, still oblivious to the tension he has just created between Kiran and me, adds with ease, “No, no, no. It fell out of my pocket. And she was all, ‘Put it away! Put it away!’” He flutters his hands like a total girl.
“Of course she was,” Gretchen says, still giggling. “What did you expect? What would you have done if you got pulled over?” Seth just waves off her concern like it was no big deal.
The anger and disappointment in Kiran’s face when he looks at me has an immediate sobering effect, sickening my stomach, and the former light-hearted atmosphere is missing from the rest of the evening.
***
“Are we going to talk about this?” I ask later that night as we change for bed.
“Talk about what?” Kiran pulls down the covers on his side.
“Talk about what?” Standing in the middle of the room, I place my hands on my hips. “About what Seth said tonight, that’s what.”
“I’m tired and drunk, Anna. Can we do this in the morning?”
“Well, clearly you’re upset with me, and I think we need to talk about it now.”
Lying on his back, he takes a deep breath without looking at me. “I guess I don’t understand why you kept something like that from me.”
“I know. You’re right. I should have told you.” Picking up the tube of lotion on my night table, I squirt some into my hands before crawling into bed. “I just… didn’t want you to feel like you’re responsible for him. I mean, when he made that comment about you getting married, you were all apologetic and you didn’t even do anything. I know his move-in date got delayed, but he’s not going to be here with us much longer and I just wanted to keep the peace.”
He turns his head to meet my eyes. “So he wasn’t smoking it in the car in front of you?”
“No!” I shake my head emphatically.
“Did he offer you some?”
I draw my lips inward.
“He offered it to you?”
“Well, for when we got home…”
Kiran stares up at the ceiling and rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe he was so reckless like that. Like Gretchen said, what if you would have gotten pulled over?”
“That didn’t happen, so all’s well that ends well.”
He rolls onto his side, his expression intent. “You said he offered you some for when you got home. What did you say?”
“I never answered. That’s when the cop pulled up beside us. What does it matter now?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
“What would you have said if given the opportunity to answer?”
Blinking, I shake my head slightly. “Kiran, I haven’t smoked pot since I was in college. Why would I suddenly start doing it with Seth, of all people? What is this about anyway?”
“Nothing.” He sighs heavily and rolls onto his back. “I’m not sure I even know. Please just tell me that’s everything. That there’s nothing you’re leaving out.”
He’s now given me two statements that I try to process. He doesn’t know what this is about? How can he not know what this is about? But that confession is quickly trumped by his worry that there’s still something I’m not telling him.
“Are you asking me if Seth made a play for me that night?”
“Clearly, he was pretty trashed if he offered you pot,” he says dully.
“Sweetie, look at me.”
He ignores my request.
“Please…”
Reluctantly, he does as I ask.
“I don’t know him like you do, and I don’t know him well, but one thing that’s been obvious since he got here is that he adores you. I could be wrong, but I don’t see him doing something like that.”
Kiran returns his gaze to the ceiling.
“Hey.” I gently pull on his chin with my finger so he’ll look at me. “And if he did, I would tell you. Keeping something like that from you doesn’t qualify as keeping the peace, okay?”
After searching my face for several moments, he closes his eyes and nods. However, I’m still wondering what he meant by not knowing what this is about. Was he referring to his worry that Seth made an advance I hadn’t shared, or something else altogether? There seemed to be more to his interrogation about the pot that I’m just not getting.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He leaves his eyes shut. “Yes.”
“What was the strip poker thing about tonight?”
Peeking through an eyelid, his forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, not knowing how to put it delicately. “It just didn’t seem like something you’d normally be up for.”
His jaw tightens. “So, strip poker with another couple is something you’re normally up for?”
“Not at all!” I draw my head back. “The only reason I agreed to it was because it seemed like you wanted to, and I didn’t want to be the party pooper. Ever hear of peer pressure?”
I give him a tight-lipped smile and nod. “Okay.”
Sitting up, he kisses me quickly on the mouth. “Night,” he says and rolls over.
Within a few minutes, he’s asleep and I’m left wondering what the hell is going on.
Something is very wrong, because we never go to sleep until everything is okay between us. Instead, we’re in bed with our backs to each other and I can’t lie here like this any longer. Quietly, I walk to the bathroom and close the door behind me.
Then I sit on the floor and cry.
This has always been my M.O. when I’m upset and feeling alone. Don’t ask me why I choose to sit on the floor. I’ve often wondered myself. Maybe it has to do with being so miserably low, my physicality must match my emotional state. I found myself doing this a lot toward the end of my relationship with David, and the fact that I’m doing it for the first time with Kiran is even more discouraging. However, like always, I make sure to keep my sobs silent, my nose blowing muffled.
Enough time has passed for me to have left several wads of toilet paper on the floor, when Kiran knocks on the door. “Anna, can I come in?”
“Uh…” I hurriedly start picking up tissues. “Hold on a sec.”
He enters without waiting, catching me on my knees with numerous snot rags in hand. His shoulders sag the moment he lays eyes on me. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand before reaching over to toss the tissues into the waste basket.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asks with a pained stare.
I lower my face and shrug. “I don’t know. I just like sitting on the floor. The tile is nice and cool, you know.”
He sits down beside me, leaning against the vanity, and silently pulls me into his chest. “I don’t want to fight… and I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Closing my eyes, I take comfort in the smell of his bare skin against my cheek. “I know.” Even though there’s stuff he’s still not telling me, I feel a hundred percent better now that he’s here.
He brushes my arm with his fingertips and we sit quietly for a full minute. I want him to tell me what’s wrong, but leave it alone, not risking another confrontation.
Menopause to Matrimony (Fortytude Series Book 2) Page 10
