“I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure why everyone thought I had the answer to that question when I hadn’t talked to him. “He started texting me Friday night. I feel bad for him. I think he’s having a hard time with the divorce.” I read the message as she started her diatribe.
“Gray’s not your issue, and he has no business contacting you. Don’t let his divorce result in your own.”
I rolled my eyes at her melodramatic assumption of where a few measly text messages would go. “It’s not like that. Brett knows I talked to him. Texted him. Whatever you want to call it. And he was fine with it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he loves the idea of his wife texting with her ex-boyfriend who nearly destroyed her. Oh, and said ex is now single. I see that being just fine with Brett.”
“You act like I’m shacking up with Gray. I love my husband and won’t do anything to violate that relationship. But I loved Gray for a long time, and I don’t want to see him in pain. If he needs a friend to talk to, I can be a sounding board.”
“You’re so naïve. If he needs a friend, he can talk to Topher. He doesn’t need to talk to you. He gave up that right years ago when he kicked you out.”
“So just because we aren’t together, it means I can’t be his friend? How is that logical?”
“That’s precisely what it means. He’s your ex-boyfriend, not your husband. You owe him nothing, and he’s not your responsibility to save. Jesus, Annie. Don’t you have enough on your plate without dealing with Gray?”
My issues were deep-seated. I knew that long before anyone else pointed it out. But there was a part of me that simply couldn’t let go, or maybe was unwilling to, until I knew he was stable…that he was safe and loved by someone who would take care of him.
“I can see by the look on your face you’re placating me and nodding like you agree just to get me to shut up. But I’m serious, don’t let him take over. He is the master of manipulation because you love too deeply—but we both know he’s not healthy for you…or your marriage.”
As an adult, one who’s been through countless hours of therapy, I was aware of my ability to save people, or rather my lack thereof. Rationally, my mind understood it was not my job nor my duty to resurrect the lives of others. My heart, however, was a little harder to convince. While I knew Will made a decision, one I couldn’t change, had I been stronger, I might have been able to get him the help that would have saved his life. If sending Gray a few meager text messages made him feel like he had someone in his corner, it was the least I could do to help get him to solid ground. I just wouldn’t do it without being open with Brett.
“I got it, mom.”
Lynn shook her head knowing I wasn’t listening. “Have fun with your friend.” She turned to open the front door but stopped. “When did Dan get a girlfriend?” Her tone mimicked my own disbelief when I’d learned about her.
I laughed realizing she’d had the same thoughts I did when Brett told me. Dan was perpetually single until Lissa. “Not sure exactly, but I’m thinking she’s it. I absolutely love her, and I swear if he screws things up I’ll hurt him. I’m tired of being the only estrogen in a pool of testosterone.”
Lynn opened the door and warned, “I’m serious about Gray. Stay away from him.” And she walked through the door, closed it behind her, and left no room for response.
Ignoring her advice, I typed out a response to my old lover.
Me: I’m on my way to the YMCA for Brett and Dan’s basketball game. You should join us.
I didn’t have to wait long for his response.
Gray: I’m sure Brett wouldn’t appreciate me showing up, much less with you.
Me: Suit yourself. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.
I didn’t know what else to say. There was no point in engaging in some lengthy conversation via text message
Gray: Was just hoping we could chat. I know you don’t owe me anything, but you’re the only person I want to talk to.
Me: I can talk at the game. You can meet Dan’s girlfriend, Lissa.
Gray: I think you’re missing the point.
Me: I got the point. That’s my offer.
Gray: Blow off the basketball game and meet me.
Me: No can do buckaroo. Go hang out with Topher.
Gray didn’t respond, and I didn’t encourage it. Instead, I spent the afternoon ogling hot guys on the basketball court, my husband being my prime target. Damn, they looked good glistening with sweat, a sheen that made their skin glow. All I could think about was handing Lissa off to Dan, so Brett and I could make our way to our bedroom.
“Wipe the drool off your mouth.” Lissa bumped her shoulder into mine bringing me out of my lust induced trance.
“Huh?”
“How long have you and Brett been together? I hope I’m still that in love if I ever get married.” The way her face lit up in optimism was almost romantic itself. Her eyes were bright with wonder, and her cheeks blushed a rosy pink as she obviously dreamed of a future.
The hoots and hollers from the stands made focusing on the conversation difficult, but I loved thinking about my relationship with Brett. I became a love-sick fool. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear there were hearts in my eyes. “Almost four years at this point. We dated for over a year before we got engaged, then eloped about a week later, and that was almost three years ago.”
“I love the way you look at him. That sounds funny, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Brett was a blessing I never thought I’d get. He’s perfect for me in every way, and he loves me unconditionally, warts and all.” I stared at him on the court as I talked to Lissa.
“Dan’s told me a little about your background. I’m glad you found Brett. According to Dan, Brett believes the sun rises and sets in you. Before I met you guys, I thought he was exaggerating, but he was right. That man adores you.”
“It’s mutual. So, how’d you meet Dan?” Talking about myself made me uncomfortable. The fact she knew anything about my past made me uneasy, and I’d much rather divert attention back to her.
Before she answered the question, Brett landed on his butt and skidded across the basketball court. I rose abruptly, hollering at the referee to call a foul, but he evidently wasn’t interested in my thoughts. When Brett stood and winked at me, I returned my focus back to my friend.
“If I tell you, you’re sworn to secrecy. Not even Brett.” The burnt umber eyebrows that adorned her face rose with the indication of juicy gossip. I couldn’t resist.
“Deal.”
Lissa bit the corner of her mouth before her lips turned up in a sassy grin. “He will absolutely bury me if he finds out I told you.”
I crossed my heart with my finger like I was five.
“I guess he had been doing the online dating thing.”
My mouth fell open. Dan was gorgeous, and women flocked to him. I had zero opposition to online dating; I was just shocked he would need it. The man could stand on a sidewalk and have women throw their phone numbers at him.
She nodded and kept speaking. “He was supposed to pick a girl up one night. I don’t remember her name, but it was something strange, like Yemmy or Remmy. Who knows. Anyway, it was like seven o’clock, and my doorbell rang. You’ve seen where I live—I don’t get a lot of visitors—typically just UPS or the mailman. But it was dusky-dark outside, so I was surprised. I went to the door, and there he stood asking for this woman. Turned out, she gave him a fake address, and stood him up.”
My eyes were wide listening to her story. Not only had Dan resorted to online hookups, he got stood up in the process. And I couldn’t tell Brett. I wondered if he was a Tinder kind of guy or Match.com.
“He showed me the text from the girl as if he needed to prove something, and my address was right there in black and white. I felt sorry for him and stepped outside to talk. We sat on my porch long into the evening, and I finally invited him in.”
“Holy crap. Dan got stood up and met you in return? My mind is
blown.”
“He was embarrassed. That was almost six months ago. We’ve seen each other just about every day since then.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear shyly. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“I’m in utter awe. Don’t take this wrong, but I’ve never known Dan to go out with the same girl twice. I’ve never even bothered to learn any of their names when I meet them because I know I won’t see them again. You’re quite the anomaly.”
“He’s the first guy I’ve dated in a few years. I went through a rough patch and wasn’t interested in a relationship. I relocated here at the beginning of last semester when I took a teaching job at Furman. I met him a couple months later. Funny how the universe throws people together when they aren’t expecting it.” Her eyes found him on the court and softened. The way her cheeks grew rosy was a pretty good indication of her feelings for Brett’s best friend.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Her head jerked toward mine. The color drained from her face. She appeared startled. I’d never seen someone shake their head so adamantly.
I shouldn’t have laughed. She looked cute in such a panic. Her face mirrored my inner thoughts when Brett and I were dating. My teeth worried my bottom lip, trying not to show her my amusement, but in the end, I lost that battle.
“Don’t laugh. It’s way too early.”
“Says who?” When she didn’t respond, I kept talking. “Why is there a time frame on love? And who set it? You guys aren’t eighteen. I’m sure you’ve dated enough to know what you do and don’t want—so if you want Dan, tell him.” I acted as though I had all the confidence in the world and would go after him if the situation were reversed, but it was just bravado. The only reason Brett and I ever ended up together was I’d gotten drunk. Not that I’d known he was available but my point remained— Do as I say, not as I do.
“Tell me what? What do you want?”
Brett and his buddy trotted up to us. Brett dripped sweat on me as he wrapped me in his arms, and I tried to pull away. Dan kissed Lissa on the mouth before asking again.
“What did I miss? What’d you want to tell me?”
Lissa looked panicked, so I intervened. “Pizza. She wants to go to Harley’s to celebrate.”
Boys and beer, it never took much. We all agreed the guys needed to shower, and we’d meet up later. There was something about the way my husband looked when he stripped his jersey off. The basketball shorts hung low on his hips, and his pecs flexed with each move he made. His muscles jumped, and the definition in his arms took shape, and I swooned.
As I stood next to him, staring without reservation, his gaze heated. “We need to go home. Now.” The tone of his voice told me exactly what he wanted to do when we got there.
We all but ran to my car. I tossed him the keys and jumped in the passenger seat. His hand caressed my thigh in gentle anticipation. For once in my life, I wished I had on a dress his fingers could sneak under, but nothing more than teasing was going on through jeans.
The moment we pulled up at the house, he threw the car in park, and we both dashed up the front porch and through the doorway. Neither of us hesitated in the pursuit of getting undressed. As soon as the door closed behind us, clothing started flying.
“Couch,” he commanded.
His bark sent me running in the direction he’d ordered. Stark naked, I waited for his instructions. But his pace slowed, and the hunger in his eyes changed. Just when I thought he would switch gears and make love to me, he surprised me.
“Sit down and spread your legs. I want to taste that pussy.”
Since the miscarriage, sex had been boring and vanilla. There had been no dirty talking, no smacking my ass, no rough domination. Missionary was the only position in his playbook, and I was ready to play a new game.
I sat on the leather with my knees together, waiting for him to move. He hovered in front of me but didn’t budge.
“Spread your legs, sweetheart.”
My eyebrows dipped in confusion, wrinkling my forehead. When I stayed still, he bent at the waist, put his hands between my knees and pushed them apart. Wide.
And stared.
The crimson crawled up his neck, and just as the color reached his face, his tongue peeked out, swiping moisture across his lips, slowly—seductively.
Hungry.
He lowered himself to one knee, then the other, between my thighs. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen but was eager to get to know. Brett honed in on my center when he reached out, tracing his fingers between my sex slowly. From bottom to top, then around in a circle at the clit. He made a trail back down, sinking into my wet opening.
A moan erupted from deep within my chest, and I opened my legs further to accommodate his large frame in response. A wicked grin played on his lips just before he dove in. The way his mouth worked my nub and his fingers stroked my G-spot brought me to orgasm faster than I believed possible.
My body writhed under his touch, aching to get away as I came down from the high he’d taken me to so quickly. But Brett didn’t relent, and I had nowhere to go. The back of the couch stopped my retreat, and his smile glistened with my essence. His thumb continued to press arousal onto my clit until I thought I couldn’t take the desire anymore.
When I peered through my half-closed lids, I saw Brett’s cock in the hand he wasn’t using to torture me with pleasure. I was ravenous for what he offered. My hand pushed his away and then reached for his hip. I needed him closer. I wanted him inside me. Not his fingers, but him.
“Greedy today?” he teased.
There was no use denying my desire. He was my husband. I got the right to beg for his dick anytime I wanted to the moment I said, “I do.” Instead of answering, I hooked my ankles behind his butt and pulled him into me. With no further thought, he lined himself up and sank deep within me.
His hands found my lower back, securing his hold on me, and Brett took what he wanted. Hard. His thrusts reminded me we were both still alive and very much in love. The way he claimed me made my heart soar along with another orgasm. I didn’t bother fighting it off knowing he’d keep going; he’d continue, continuing to provide me with more satisfaction until he reached his own climax. On my third, he met me at the top, and we rode out the final wave together. Sweaty. Sated. And late for dinner.
Gray texted me daily. None of it seemed significant, and I shared every message with Brett, but he hadn’t been interested in the details. I’d watched for signs of irritation but hadn’t seen any. I offered to let him read the communication, but while he appreciated my telling him about them, he didn’t need to see them. I guess he figured if I shared that they took place it wasn’t likely I was doing something I should be hiding.
But after a taxing night of baby discussions, miscarriage acknowledgments, and once again beating the dead horse about adoption, I made a mistake and reached out. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to talk to Gray as I wanted to vent to someone who wouldn’t stick up for Brett and tell me what a wonderful husband he was for trying to give us a family. I already knew all of that, but I needed an outlet who wouldn’t insist on playing Devil’s advocate.
The words flowed too easily, the confessions too intimate. Every doubt, every fear, every frustration, and hang up—I shared them in an all-day text fest with my ex-boyfriend. We consoled each other, empathized at the other’s situation, and discussed things neither of us should have been discussing with the other—not because they were inappropriate, reading the conversations anyone would assume it was simply two close friends commiserating. But because of our history, we were reconnecting in a way we shouldn’t. This was exactly what Lynn had warned me against. And as much as it offered me a proverbial shoulder, I wasn’t blind to the problems it caused with Brett.
Because we’d done nothing but argue since that night, I didn’t bother mentioning I’d been texting with Gray. I figured it would just add fuel to the fire, and he hadn’t cared before. But when Brett did something or said something that irri
tated me, my mind had already started to revert to Gray. Not wanting him, but his response, what he’d say, and that was a recipe for disaster. Regardless of how much my infertility issues hurt, I should discuss them with my doctor or my husband, not use them as an excuse to contact my ex-boyfriend.
Regardless of the agony from the lack of a child in my belly to my husband not understanding my desire for a biological baby to the isolation I felt as a woman unable to give her husband a family, I needed to distance myself…and not from Brett.
Ultimately, I took a few days off from communicating with Gray. I’d been surprised by his divorce and possibly intrigued by the reason behind it, but the more we opened up about the years we’d been absent from the other’s life, the more tenacious my problems with Brett became. Until the miscarriage, my relationship with Brett had been idyllic, almost flawless. There was no denying how much either of us loved the other. He doted on me, was protective, attentive, honest, and loyal. Other than having a baby, there was nothing about our lives I’d change. I was profoundly aware of how I was allowing the child issue to disrupt our harmonious life, and Gray returning just made that divide even greater.
I hadn’t bothered to tell Gray I was taking a hiatus or why. I just stopped responding in favor of focusing on my husband, the place my attention should have been to begin with. After a few unanswered texts, I quit hearing from him, so when he asked me to meet him for lunch, I almost threw up. Literally.
For nearly three years, Gray and I had no communication. I never tried to reach out to him, and since he married Slut Muffin, he’d left me alone. This latest batch of back and forth was unchartered territory. I had always hoped he and I could be friends one day but didn’t really think that day would ever come. I don’t know what caused me to respond to him days earlier, other than something monumental had occurred, and I was afraid he was suffering. My mind twisted back to that place of salvation, the one where I believed I could be the good for someone on the verge of something desperate. The part of me that wanted to save everyone but myself. I shouldn’t have responded. I should have asked Lynn or Scarlett to tell him not to contact me, or hell, I could have let Brett deliver that message. Now I’d opened the door to Pandora’s Box, and I wasn’t sure I could safely close it again.
Freed (Bound Duet Book 2) Page 12
