Love Me Like That

by Marie James

  “You didn’t have to cook,” I tell her and make a show of looking around her at the stove.

  “You made me a sandwich earlier,” she shrugs and turns back to the stove. “I figured I’d return the favor.”

  “It’s much appreciated. I haven’t had someone cook for me since…well, it’s been a while since anyone has bothered.” I respond honestly.

  “It’s just spaghetti. I didn’t know if you had any other plans for the ground beef, so I just made it vegetarian. Do you like Italian?” She still has her back to me. Wanting, needing, to see her face I step to the side of her.

  “Spaghetti is perfect.” I want to sweep the tendril of hair out of her eye so I can see her face unobstructed. “I’ll put together a salad.” I step toward the refrigerator.

  “I already made one.” She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard, and I can’t help but smile.

  “So I should just sit at the table and wait to be served?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “Fat chance, Buddy. Grab some plates and silverware.” Feisty, I love it!

  She drains the pasta over the sink, and I do as instructed. We load up our plates at the stove and set them across from each other on the dining room table. We both head back to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of wine and glasses from the small wine rack, and she grabs two premade salad bowls from the fridge. I don’t even drink wine, but it’s here. I take it to the table since I don’t think she’d be amenable to more whiskey after last night.

  I’m almost giddy at the sight of him. Spending practically the entire day with very limited human interaction was horrible. I never do that. I seek others out, either at the bar or at the gym. I don’t have to talk to people necessarily but I seem to gravitate to situations where there’s a chance of holding a conversation should I feel so inclined.

  I don’t say a word to him as we sit at the table, and he pours me a glass of wine. I’m not much of a wine drinker but it’s courteous, so I thank him and take the glass.

  I clear my throat. “I want to apologize about last night.” I keep my eyes on my plate, hoping the lack of eye contact will make this less awkward. “I shouldn’t have…” why is this so hard? “I never should have kissed you.”

  He doesn’t answer so I look up at him. He has an eyebrow raised at me.

  “What?” I ask not sure I want to know the answer.

  He shakes his head slightly. “It’s a little insulting. Sitting here and having you tell me you didn’t want to kiss me.”

  I laugh softly. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to kiss you,” I qualify. “I said I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Not much difference from where I’m sitting.”

  Do I tell him what I’m running from? Would he even care?

  I feel the need to explain why I jumped his bones last night without so much as a hint from him that he wanted it. He didn’t argue or hesitate even for a second, but that doesn’t mean he was interested until my lips hit his.

  “I had a seriously bad day yesterday.” I'm purposely vague, so I don’t just lay all my shit at his feet if he’s not interested in hearing it.

  He nods, agreeing that yesterday wasn’t one to add in the plus column.

  “I walked in on my boyfriend fucking my best friend,” I blurt out.

  He drops the fork that was an inch from his mouth, and I watch as it clatters back down to his plate, leaving speckles of sauce on the table top.

  “Worst fucking day ever,” he finally says.

  I wish. “At least in the top five.”

  “Rough life?” He asks with evident concern on his face.

  “Last decade has held some pretty disastrous shit.” I look down and twirl spaghetti noodles absently around my fork.

  “Like I was saying,” I begin after a long silence. “It was a shitty day, and I never should’ve thrown myself at you like I did. Especially considering you’re…you know,” I nod at his wedding ring.

  I cut my eyes back to my plate and continue the pasta twirling even though my stomach is too knotted to even think about eating another bite. The silence drags on for what seems like forever. I put my hands on the table ready to stand and get away from the discomfort I’m feeling from my admissions.

  His voice stops my momentum. “You have it all wrong.” I look up at him. “I’m nothing like,” he nods his head at me.

  “Trent?” I offer.

  “Is that the asshole that cheated on you?” I nod. “I’m nothing like Trent.” He says his name with disdain like Trent personally wronged him somehow. “I never cheated on Savannah. Never even thought to turn my head in the direction of another woman. Not once.”

  I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone as I watch him twist his wedding ring around his finger. I feel the need to remind him where his dick was last night.

  “Until last night,” I whisper and drop my head. I’m the succubus that caused this dedicated man to break his vows.

  “She’s,” his voice hitches. “My wife passed away in a car accident almost two years ago.”

  My head jerks up just as his chin hits his chest. He’s broken.

  I reach my hand across the table and place it on his, stilling the incessant twirling of his wedding ring. I don’t know how to feel right now. I wish I could say that I feel better knowing that I didn’t help him become an adulterer, but I don’t. If possible, I feel even more like shit because I threw myself at a broken man. A man that is apparently not over the death of his wife.

  To have a love like that, I think with jealousy.

  I’m too far away to reach the tear that rolls down his cheek and mixes with the hair on his jaw.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Kadin. I can only imagine how difficult that is.”

  I can in a roundabout way. My parents died which was horrible but not the same. This man lost his future, one that obviously he wasn’t prepared to live without her. I lost Trent, and Keira, but that was by his choice not the consequence of a traffic accident.

  “My parents died in a car accident,” I share with him, hoping maybe the commiseration will let him know that I have some idea of the pain he feels.

  “How long ago?” He doesn’t raise his head but shifts his hands, causing me to let them go. I watch as he wipes his face on the back of his arm clearing away the rogue tears that dared to fall.

  “Almost ten years ago,” I tell him when he brings his head up to look at me.

  “Rough decade.”

  “Rough decade,” I answer in agreement.

  “How long were you and the Idiot together?” He says, idiot, like its Trent’s new name. I like it, very fitting.

  “Six years.” Best six years of my life if I'm honest. All lies.

  “Long time.”

  “How long were you and Savannah together?” I hope he doesn’t get upset talking about her, but he asked me, so I figure maybe the conversation is safe.

  He looks past me and smiles at her memory. “I met her at Freshman Orientation.”

  “So college. That’s a long time.”

  He laughs boldly; the sound reverberates around the room. “High school actually,” he corrects me.

  “Wow, that is a long time.” He grins.

  “We were together for a little over seventeen years. If you count the on-again-off-again months our junior year in high school.” He chuckles again at a memory I’m not privileged to.

  His face lights up when he starts thinking about her. His chocolate eyes shine, and they crinkle at the corner. This man is gorgeous.

  “She was a lucky woman,” I say out loud before I can stop myself.

  He winks at me but otherwise doesn’t respond, changing the mood in the dining room completely.

  “Tell me about her?” I rise from the table and take our plates so he doesn’t feel like I’m scrutinizing him.

  He waits for a few beats before he starts to respond.

  “She was as perfect as a woman could get. Blond hair and the most amazing pair of blue ey
es I would have given my left leg for just the chance to stare into the rest of my life. She called me a jerk the very first time she spoke to me, and I think I fell in love with her then.” He laughs again and gets up from the table bringing the wine glasses with him.

  We somehow begin the process of putting the food away and washing the dishes, him drying. We move around the kitchen almost as one unit rather than two separate people.

  “How do you go from being a jerk to marrying her?” I laugh.

  “I followed her around like a lost puppy. I’d do anything and everything she ever asked of me.”

  “That’s stalking,” I say honestly.

  His laugh rings around the room again. “That’s what she said.” He shrugs. “So one day I just stopped. She must have missed me because after two days she was at my house wanting to know why I didn’t walk her home anymore.”

  “And the rest is history,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  To have a love like that.

  He hands me the towel after I drain the water in the sink.

  “Want to play cards or something?” He asks as he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

  I follow him. “Sure.”

  “Strip poker?” He asks teasingly. I stop in my tracks and stare at his back. He turns and smirks at me. “Too soon?”

  I laugh. “Listen, Kadin.” He holds his hand up to stop me.

  “I heard what you said the first time.” He says and turns back to a beautiful wooden cabinet tucked into the corner of the den, rifling through it looking for playing cards I assume.

  I did tell him it was a mistake, and it was. Knowing now that he is a widower and not an adulterer shouldn’t change things in my mind, but for some reason I feel myself gravitating to him in more than just what I’d originally intended when I set out making dinner. I’d wanted a little companionship. I didn’t want to sit in the room alone going stir crazy.

  I tell myself to get my hormones in check because this man is hurting and I only complicate things.

  He sets the pack of cards down on the table in front of the fire and makes his way over to the table with the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on it. He holds it up in offering. I shake my head back and forth, and he laughs but doesn’t say anything.

  “I wouldn’t want to get drunk and jump you in the hall again,” I say only half joking because I sort of do.

  He doesn’t respond, just pours some of the golden liquor in a tumbler and sets the bottle on the table by the cards. Seems he has different plans for the evening.

  “What do you want to play?” I ask as I open the cards, removing the cellophane from them along with the other random cards they throw in there, and begin to shuffle them.

  “Rummy?” I nod and continue walking.

  It’s incredibly late by the time I give up on cards with Kadin. He’s won at least four games to my one and the more he drinks, the better he gets.

  I yawn and cover my mouth. “I’m going to call it a night.” I hand the stack of cards to him and stand from the sofa.

  “Good night,” he says and tilts his whiskey tumbler at me.

  We talked about everything under the sun: our lives and childhoods. I laughed like I haven’t laughed in years, and it came easy not forced.

  I smile as I enter my room and head straight to my bed. Even with my nap from earlier, I’m tired. I kick off my sweats and slide in between the sheets, snuggling as far as I can go in the thick blankets and before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep.

  My sleepy mind barely registers the hot, massive form that slides behind my back and wraps its arms around me. My mind does, however, register the gentle kiss to my shoulder just before he nuzzles his nose in my hair.

  “So warm,” he whispers against my neck as sleep drags me down once again.

  Day two of waking up with London. I tossed and turned for hours last night before finally giving up and crawling into bed with her. I had planned just to head downstairs and drink some more but when I passed her door, I noticed it was cracked. I saw it as an open invitation.

  I crawled in behind her and held her in my arms. Her only reaction was the release of a soft sigh in her sleep. Now that I’m sober and still wrapped around her back this morning, the idea seems more like a poor choice. If she wanted me in bed with her, she would’ve asked me to join her. Now I’m the creepy guy, taking liberties with a houseguest I’ve known for just over forty-eight hours.

  I came in here straight from my own bed across the hall, so I’m only wearing my underwear. I’m doing my best not to move too much but from the warmth coming from under the covers, she’s either naked or only wearing panties with her thin tank top. I could stay here all day and just lay against her, but eventually she’s going to wake up and not only wonder why I’m in bed with her, but I’d also have to explain the erection pressing against her ass.

  The sun is just beginning to shine through the window, so I know it’s still relatively early. I wiggle and scoot backward gently. Once out of the bed, I give her one more glance and freeze as I watch her bury herself deeper in the covers, groaning slightly. I smile at the thought that she misses my warmth. We were in the same position we were in when I first came in last night so hopefully she won’t even realize I was in here.

  I leave her room, making sure to leave her door cracked open like I’d found it last night and shuffle across the hall to mine, closing myself quietly in my room. I shower quickly, taking care of the more-than-morning-wood issue before throwing on a pair of jeans and heading downstairs.

  I purposely make as much noise as I can in the kitchen, hoping she’ll wake up and join me for coffee. Once it’s brewing, I crack open a can of cinnamon rolls and preheat the oven.

  She has perfect timing as she shuffles into the kitchen just as I’m pulling the pastries from the oven. My back is to her, but I hear her walk in. “Coffee’s ready,” I tell her and set the cookie sheet on the stove top to cool. Another ten minutes and these babies will be ready for the packet of cream cheese icing that came with them.

  She didn’t bother to pull her hair back before coming down this morning, and it’s all over the place and down her back. Just a few shades darker than honey, it hits her in the middle of her back, which is facing me as she makes her coffee.

  She’s still wearing the soft pink tank she had on last night, but her legs and luscious ass are now covered in a pair of thin cotton pajama pants with pastel stripes. She turns with her coffee cup in her hand, cradled under her chin, blowing on it to cool it faster.

  I stand across from her leaning on the opposite counter. I watch her eyes rake over my body. I’m shameless this morning and came down with no shirt on, my broad chest bare and loving the attention it’s getting from her eyes. I can’t keep my eyes off of her nipples which are practically visible in her thin shirt.

  Perfect fucking tits.

  I clear my throat, and she snaps her eyes up to mine. “How’d you sleep?” Do you know I was in the bed with you?

  She grins at me. “Like a baby. Didn’t wake up once.”

  “I made cinnamon rolls.” Thank heavens she doesn’t realize my level of crazy.

  “They smell delicious,” she says with a grin. She sets her coffee down on the counter behind her and takes a few steps closer to me.

  I grip the edge of the counter to keep from reaching out to her. She brushes my arm as she reaches beside me into the cabinet for a few plates. “Want me to pour you a glass of milk?” she offers in a husky voice near my ear that makes me wish she was asking if I want something else.

  “I’d love one,” I return in a voice just as husky.

  She moves toward the fridge, and I turn to add the icing to the cinnamon rolls. I put one on each of the plates she left near the stove and carry them to the table, making sure to put them perpendicular to one another rather than across the table from each other like last night.

  She smiles at me as she carries in the glasses of milk but frowns when she looks down at the
plates. I immediately think she’s not happy with the proximity of our plates. “Let me guess? You plan on eating that with your hand?” She laughs and shakes her head, turning toward the kitchen to grab forks.

  She hands one over to me, and I make sure my fingers brush hers as I take it. She doesn’t jerk away this time and her hand actually lingers near mine.

  I clear my throat again. I seem to do that a lot around her.

  “The snow has stopped, for now,” I say as I cut into the soft pastry and take a bite.

  She lowers her head and nods, clearly not happy with the news, a huge change from her reaction to being snowed in yesterday. Interesting.

  My fingers tingle with the urge to reach out and tilt her chin up so she can’t hide her eyes. “What’s that look for?” I ask trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and pop a bite in my mouth before I say something, even more, ridiculous.

  She fiddles with her breakfast but doesn’t take a bite. She gives a sad laugh and raises her eyes to mine. “You sure you want an invite to my pity party?”

  I grin back at her. “I don’t mind listening if you want to talk or work through some shit.” I shrug my shoulders and take another bite. Just don’t expect me to share.

  “Remember you asked for it.” She smiles.

  I love her smile and how it makes her eyes close slightly.

  “I told you last night I found my ex with my best friend.” I nod. “I just went home and packed all of my things and left. I haven’t even spoken to them since.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You didn’t confront them?”

  “Not really my style. There was nothing to say. No way to confuse what I saw, so I just left Trent at the bar inside my best friend, packed my stuff and left.”

  “You have more control than I do.” I set my fork down on my empty plate and take a sip of the cold milk she brought me.

  “I think I was in shock.”

  “Do you plan to go back?”

  “Not a chance and that’s the problem. I have no plans. Nowhere to live and no job prospects. I didn’t really think any of it through. I just knew I had to get away.” She holds her mouth in a straight line.