Sean (More Than Friends Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “Why are you here, Sean?” Not just Madison, not the bar, but at my table.

  “We need to talk about us.” There is an us? Could’ve fooled me. My eyes tightened, hopeful that he’d disappear when they opened. Crap.

  “To start,” I disputed, “there stopped being an us in any form weeks ago. You remember leaving for Miami in the middle of the night, don’t you? When you had one of your closest friends in your bed, assuming you were next to her? After you two slept together. And now you have the audacity to reprimand me for being senseless?” This is good coffee. I’ll have to get more in the morning. I’m almost out. Sean’s expression fell, his eyes tight with anxiety. After my words, in the dim light of my home, Sean looked helpless and weak, nothing like the billboard. Yet, beautiful.

  “You told me you missed me.” His voice was barely audible.

  I closed my eyes tightly, releasing the hurt and being honest. “I did. I still do…”

  “You have no idea how guilty I feel,” he murmured. I sipped my coffee, relaxing into the chair and lifting my feet up to the seat. I thought I’d let him stew for a moment, eyeing him without reply.

  “I had to go because what happened was a mistake and I didn’t know what you would say to me or want from me in the morning. I was so confused about myself and this disease, confused about you…I had to go.”

  “You can go now,” I urged him, calmly placing my cup on the table. Sean’s hands wrapped around my free left hand, lacing his fingers with mine. It was hard to resist the penetrating stare oozing from his green eyes. They glowed a darker hue, looking almost brown or black in the dim light.

  “I’m not leaving,” he affirmed, “not this time.”

  “Go to your girlfriend’s house. Talk to her. I don’t want to hear this.”

  “What about your relationship, Avery?” Sean snapped. I pulled my hand free from his hold and anxiously tapped my fingernails along the edge of my floral coffee cup.

  “Declan and I aren’t in a relationship, Sean. We’ve been on dates. That’s usually the social norm for getting to know someone intimately.”

  “Jesus Christ, Avery! Would you just listen to me and stop this insolence? I am trying to be serious here, trying to tell you how I feel and just…apologize.”

  “You’re being arrogant and assumptive, Sean. You’re assuming I’m okay with you being here, that I want to hear what you have to say.”

  He looked dazed, as though he hadn’t planned on my assertion. “But you were fine at the bar earlier…”

  “I was shocked to see you again. I hadn’t prepared myself for that.”

  “I’m sorry, Avery. Listen to me.” His plea fell on deaf ears as I continued to sip my coffee, eyeing my bed behind him and wondering how long it would be before I could curl into it.

  “Apology never accepted, but thanks for telling me the truth.”

  “Never?” Sean looked at me, his eyes gleaming with a sense of charm or humor in the way they were irresistible to his undergraduate groupies.

  “Sean,” I shook my head, erasing the thought of his persuasive eyes, “you told me you were sick, you kissed me, you decide to leave after sleeping with me, and you’re gone. Just like that. You left. It was safe to assume you died. I almost started to grieve your loss because I didn’t think I’d see you again. I wondered if I even wanted to, for that matter, after how it all made me feel.”

  I noticed his lips part with a sharp intake of air. A small piece of me felt horrible for being so blunt when he was sick, but I waited a month to defend myself and he wasn’t getting off the hook.

  “I’m abysmal,” he uttered. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You’re right, Ave.”

  I chewed on my lip, fighting the tears brewing in my eyes. Sean stood from the table, carrying his chair to my side. I stared at my knees while he sat, resting his elbows on his thighs and reaching for my free hand. As he leaned forward, I couldn’t help but stare at the space between his sagging shirt and his chest. His skin was tan, but the muscles I remembered clawing and holding had thinned. He’s sick.

  “I was—am—terrified, Avery.” Sean’s words were laced with a plea, a longing, or an attempt at honesty and persuasion. “I’m twenty-six years old. I was given a death sentence unless I have surgery or chemotherapy. I could die. I was terrified. But you, Avery, you brought it all into context and brought it home for me. You were the first person I told because you’re the only one I trust. I knew that telling you would make it more real, but you wouldn’t pity me. You are always so courageous, and I needed that from you. I craved it. That’s why I kissed you…because I thought I would be cured by you alone.”

  I tightened my jaw, trying to focus on him and not my nostrils, which flared to defend against my impending tears.

  “And the next time?” I waited for him to continue. He was a blur behind my tears, but I recognized his lips twitch into a smile that quickly faded as his face washed with concern.

  “That,” he paused to reach for my cheek, cupping my face in his palm, “was because I love you.”

  “But you left…”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to fall in love with your best friend? How intimidating that can be?” I wrote the damn book on this, Sean. I gazed into his eyes, the green washed into darkness and white turning red. I lifted my hands to the forearm extending to my face as he held me. His skin was warm, and I could feel the way he smelled through my touch.

  “You need to talk to a professional about your issues with fear,” I directed. His eyes squinted for a moment, a short glimpse only I could recognize.

  “I’ve always known, Avery, but it hit me that night,” he continued, his voice softer. “I realized how much you mean to me and what I’d done to you and thought of how confused you’d be. Did I hurt you? Probably. I felt like a creep. There in my bed was the most stunning, lovable, and remarkable woman and I had just…ruined her.”

  “I’m not ruined, Sean.” My protest went ignored.

  “I know I left you damaged, Ave. I ruined our friendship. I just…”

  I dropped my hands from his arm, shaking my head and inhaling a breath to steady myself. “It’s not my job to forgive your sins, Sean. This is just one more act of depravity you’ll need to discuss with a higher power. Not me. You what…you just what?”

  “I needed you. I need you.” Sean’s fingers tore across his cropped hair, clinging to his scalp as he slowly and tiresomely ran is his hands through it. Trying to read Sean, to listen to him, to cope was exhausting. I pulled my feet onto my chair once more, tightening my grasp.

  “I thought of you the whole time I was gone,” he persisted. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me, Avery? How much you’ve always meant to me? What torture it is to see you with or hear about Declan?”

  “What about Kelly?” I quipped, shooting him a glare. “You need to be the better guy.” I closed my eyes as I forced out the words. “You can’t hurt two people, Sean. You can’t be that guy.”

  We sat in silence, coffee cooling between our heated hearts, stubbornly brooding at each other. And for what? I finished the last of my cold coffee and exhaled a breath so deep that I imagined my ribs touching. We were getting nowhere. I hurt, I ached, but I also needed to be the better guy.

  I cleared my throat, wiping the hem of my shirt under my sodden eyes, and moved us forward. “What’s your treatment plan, Sean? What are your options?”

  Sean’s head lifted, his eyes foggy while looking inquisitively at me. He swallowed, adjusting his posture at the table, and began discussing what he could of his cancer and his options. I listened with a desperate attention, greedily hanging on to every syllable.

  He spoke of the tumors located in his lung and the fluid found around his heart. He discussed it so matter-of-factly that it was hard to imagine the illness was inside of him, breeding and expanding as we sat there. It was an evil interloper, bringing us together in a fervor while threatening to separate us just as hastily.

&
nbsp; Radiation, chemotherapy, surgery, and immunotherapy…my mind went numb. What is he waiting for? Has he already started these treatments? I started feeling a peculiar combination of fury and despondency toward Sean. He was wasting his time, his life.

  I rinsed our cups and left them in the sink. Returning to the table, I considered Sean. His eyes were drained of color and his caramelized skin faded, as though he was actually withering away right then and there. I studied his form. Sean really was sick. My stomach twisted, and I had to battle my reflexive urge to cry, throw up, or hold him—I couldn’t decide.

  “You can stay if you need to,” I offered, walking to my chair by the window and grabbing a blanket from the arm. I buried myself in its warmth and false security. The soft wool fibers tickled my skin. I wanted to warn him that I didn’t have a revolving door policy and that once he left, he was gone, but it was Sean…my captivating, gloriously handsome friend now on the cusp of life or death…I couldn’t be as crass as him. It was different this time. He needed a friend; he needed me.

  The squirrels were at it again early in the morning. This time, there was one bouncing between the windowsill and his naked branch. My eyes felt like enormous, lethargic weights that I had to force open with my fingers. I was depleted and felt like the only cure would be my caffeine addiction. I climbed from the chair, my bones aching like they were crushed. Nope, just my heart. As I crossed the room toward the kitchen, I peeked at my bed, my perfectly unorganized and uncoordinated bed with turquoise sheets and a watercolor duvet of purples and orange. In my perfectly unorganized bed rested my imperfectly perfect friend, bound in the layers of fabric. He looked strangely peaceful while he slept. As his eyelids stirred with dreaming movement, a smile spread across his face. I took my clothes into the bathroom to dress when, midway through my mascara, my door buzzed. I answered the intercom as soon as my eyes matched.

  “It’s Lizzie. Let me up.”

  “I’m coming down.” I turned to the bed, calmed with Sean still adrift in the peaceful sea of his dreams. I was tempted to leave a note but didn’t know what to say. Just go. Move on with life now, and move on with your day.

  Chapter Ten

  The basement of Retrovaille was full of Jesse and Ella’s family and friends, including Lizzie and me. The walls were lined with black and white silk, tables dressed with black and white settings, and centerpieces overflowed with sparkling silver balloons. The silk hung from the ceiling, meeting with balloons at every peak of attachment before flowing out into another ebb and flow until reaching an opposite wall. Jesse’s dad and Mrs. New Boobs returned, sparing no expense as usual. Ella’s parents were substantially more modest than Jesse’s. Her dad was a doctor, so she never starved, and most of her bachelor’s degree was paid for in cash. He was a kind man, not presumptive or arrogant, and never asked to be referred to as “Doctor.” He was happily married to Ella’s mom for thirty years. She was an English teacher at a high school in some ritzy district along Lake Michigan.

  “I’m so glad to see you, dear.” Ella’s mom wrapped her arms around my back with a welcomed suffocation. “Ella told me about your new job! Congratulations!”

  “Thank you. I really like it. Can you believe Ella and Jesse are finally getting married? I know if their marriage is one tenth as happy as yours, they’ll be set for life.”

  “Oh, Avery,” she held a hand to my left cheek and pursed her lips, “love is challenging and marriage isn’t always easy, but nothing worth holding ever is. Is it?” Is this woman psychic? I smiled politely and listened to Ella’s mom discuss her upcoming plans for retirement once the current school year ended. She spoke with a softness that made the air around us wrap me into a tight, nurturing hug. Lizzie sauntered over to us, a bemused smile on her face.

  “Hey…” She poked my arm. “So…both of your boyfriends are here.”

  Ella’s mom raised an eyebrow, smiling at me and withholding any judgment. “I miss being twenty-five,” she teased. “I must go find Ella’s father. It was lovely seeing you girls. Let’s catch up more this evening.”

  I pinched my blue fingernails into Lizzie’s bare arm, causing a shrieking squeal to escape her mouth.

  “What was that for?” she bellowed, rubbing her wound.

  “Both of my boyfriends? Elizabeth, you have gall.”

  “I prefer to call it my moxie,” she giggled, biting the straw of her drink. “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I just wanted to warn you. They sort of walked in together.”

  “That had to be awkward for Sean.” I fought a laugh. “Lizzie, neither are my boyfriends. Both are just friends.”

  “Both have kissed you,” she reminded me. I love-hate her. I scanned the room while Lizzie waved down one of the three young women serving drinks. Jesse was with his parents, animated in a lively conversation. Ella was talking to people I didn’t recognize. My throat tightened when I noticed Sean was shaking hands with Jesse’s brother near the doorway to the basement room and Declan was walking toward Lizzie and me. Oh, boy.

  “Hi, ladies.” His smile pierced my heart. “It’s really coming down out there.” Declan. Declan and his dark blond hair combed back into classic perfection, his black cashmere sweater that taunted my fingertips, and his eyes that reminded me of delicious brownies. Oh, Declan.

  “It’s nice to see you.” I smiled. Lizzie handed me a glass from the server’s tray and wrapped her left arm around my waist, securing me at her side.

  “I’d ask if I could get you two drinks, but it looks like Lizzie’s got that taken care of.”

  “Always.” She winked and lifted her glass in the air.

  “If you’ll excuse me then.” Declan grinned at us and drifted into the crowd to the open bar along the back wall of the room. Mr. Adler and Mrs. New Boobs really wasted no expense to celebrate Jesse and Ella’s engagement.

  “What are you going to do?” Lizzie mocked the situation, casually sipping from her glass.

  “My primary objective is to stop your drinking habit. Second, go home, I guess.” She squeezed my waist in panic and swallowed a large gulp of her drink.

  “Crap.” Some sense of her humor vanished as she spoke, her eyes glued to Sean. Sean, again in all black, looked handsome with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his stubble shadowing his perfectly detailed jaw. The darkness of his outfit and hair obscured anything but his eyes. He had to have done that on purpose. How else could he maintain one’s attention so quickly and securely? He was walking toward us, grace oozing from each step. He didn’t look as frail as I expected; he seemed surprisingly like Sean, but a little thinner. Upon further and more detailed inspection, the glowing emeralds seemed recessed and tired. The part of me already enamored by Sean wanted to cry for him.

  “Lizard.” He kissed her cheek as a greeting. “Avery.” I only got a nervous nod. That’s not very reassuring. Declan returned with his tall glass of gin and tonic with a spiraled lime dangling over the side.

  “Hey, Sean. Nice to see you again.” Declan reached for Sean’s hand. “How was Miami? Avery said you’d visited your brother?”

  Sean returned the polite handshake, eyeing me while he responded. “Awakening.”

  “That’s great. I’ve never been.”

  “It’s too hot for me. Too hot.” Lizzie hummed and sipped, her eyes large with humor while glancing around the room. I continued to practice my most polite of smiles while Declan and Sean spoke.

  “Why didn’t you warn me?” I snapped at Lizzie under my breath. She shrugged, playing innocent, and bit her lip. She could anticipate some passive aggressive lack of verbal communication from me for a few days. I wiggled from her embrace with a smile still plastered on my painted lips.

  “How’s Kelly?” Lizzie inquired, and I held my breath, assuming the snot was attempting to win back my faith in her skills at manipulation. Sean slowly crept closer to us while they spoke, his eyes on mine. Declan’s posture straightened, seeming to challenge Sean. Are they marking their territory? They have to be kiddin
g!

  “Your girlfriend?” Declan urged. “How is she?”

  “Fine.” Oh, boy. Where was this going?

  “How’s your company?” Sean finally looked at Declan, although his piercing glare was still robust and scorching.

  “Things are great. We’re looking to transfer leadership within the next three months.” Declan nodded, taking a swig of his drink. Transfer leadership? I looked between Lizzie and Declan. The new and uncomfortable tension between Sean and Declan was palpable, my mouth easily absorbing the flavor of anxiety. Declan placed his arm around me in a rather possessive motion, another new and uncomfortable sensation.

  “His dad owns the company,” Lizzie whispered. “He’s retiring and giving the company to Declan.” I shot a glance at Declan, seeking clarification. It was news to me. Is this something he wanted? What do I care? I don’t even know what I want.

  “Big shot.” Sean nodded. “Congrats. Avery, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “I think she’s all right over here, Sean,” Declan declared. Lizzie was slowly stepping away from us, her lips and eyes glued to the skinny straw in her glass, and I was plotting her death.

  “Ave.” Sean held his hand toward me, his silver cufflinks twinkling as they reflected the light. It distracted me, and I stood, like a mindless fool, staring at Sean’s palm.

  “Avery?” Declan’s voice broke through my haze while Sean still reached for my hand, his fingers hanging in a limbo he stubbornly presented.

  “Avery, it’s about our toasts,” Sean clarified. They tossed my name around too much for me to follow. I looked into Declan’s calm, harmless brown eyes and remorsefully shrugged.