Tethered Love (The Knot Duet Book 2)

by M. Mabie

  She took a drink of her wine, then went on to finish the glass. Since she wasn’t driving, I refilled it for her, but she stopped me short of her normal rim-full allotment.

  We ate, and things were quiet.

  The terms had been laid out. If she had any, I hoped she’d let me in on them. This would only really work if she was as transparent with me as I was with her. All she had to do was say no.

  “What if I say no?”

  Well fuck.

  I stopped chewing and wiped my mouth to answer. I expected my genuine honesty would be tested, and there it was.

  “I’d be extremely disappointed. I want to get to know you better. I’ve never met anyone like you, and that’s both challenging and refreshing. You’re breathtaking. Smart and interesting. You’re sexy, and every second I was inside of you last night felt like winning. I really want to try this. If none of that works for you—hell, if only some of that works for you—then say no. I can’t stop you, and I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t want me back.”

  “But I do want you back,” she declared.

  Hearing it was incredible, but her actions were louder. I needed her to say it and mean it. I wasn’t sure she was even convincing herself. “Then why do you look like you’re still trying to find reasons we can’t work, instead of trying to find ways we can?”

  She ran her slender fingers over her neck and stared at the table, gathering herself for a moment. “I’m afraid I won’t be very good to you,” she admitted, vulnerability stealing half her voice.

  I’d asked for honesty, but I didn’t know what to do with so much of it.

  She didn’t think she could please me? How had she failed to please me so far?

  My hand reached out for hers nearest to me. “Do you want to be good to me?”

  “I want to try,” she confessed. It was a precarious look on her face. One part confident, one part the opposite.

  I added, “Well, let me know when you feel like you need help being good to me, and I’ll let you know how.”

  That earned me a winsome chuckle. “Sure. It’s just that simple.” She mocked, “As if relationships are like that. Hey doll, what can I do to make you happy?”

  “Why can’t they be?” I argued. It was the simplest, most efficient way. “Nora, monogamous people and polyamorous people rarely find themselves in this position. It’s not typical or even ideal, but this is what it is. We do this until we can’t or don’t want to.”

  The last part tasted lousy on my lips.

  Her head tilted. “What is this? Exactly?”

  She wanted a definition? Fine. I had one.

  “Well, here’s where I can compromise. We’ll be lovers. It’s obviously a term you’re comfortable with, and I actually think I’d like to hear you tell someone that.”

  “Who?” she asked, grinning.

  “I don’t care. Anyone.”

  The young boy who’d been clearing tables happened by. “Excuse me,” she said. “He’s my lover.”

  He nodded at me. “Nice.”

  “I’ll take the check,” I told him.

  “So, from friends to lovers,” she surmised, running her napkin through her fingers.

  Progress.

  THANKFULLY, BY THE time we were leaving, traffic was much better on the way back downtown.

  I dropped her off at the door. It wasn’t tremendously far from the garage, but those shoes looked almost torturous.

  “So this is the end of the date?” she asked. “That’s kind of anti-climactic. And after all of that talking, too.” Her face spoke to the truth behind her words. She was trying to be a shit, and I loved it. Playing with her was fun, and the more she did it, the more I got to see that little smile she liked to ration.

  “This date isn’t over, baby,” I said and leaned into her. “I put my spare key on your keyring last night. Now go use it, and I’ll park the car.”

  Her face turned to me, some of the playfulness gone, but it was replaced with passion. As much as she said she didn’t like when I talked to her like that, I knew better.

  She might have been honest with me, but she was lying to herself.

  She’d get there.

  FIVE

  PAST

  NORA—Wednesday, August 27, 2008

  Finally, I was there. I was running behind.

  I walked into the bistro and saw Janel right away. We were having lunch together, I’d barely seen her all summer even though we were in the same town.

  “Hey, stranger,” she said as I approached the small table. Her smile was radiant, and she beamed.

  “Hi,” I said as I sat down, which signaled the waiter to get my drink order. “Ice tea with lemon, please.”

  “So how is work?” she asked and opened her menu. Even if we’d been busy lately, we had still always found time to call or text. I’d been busy with work. Busy with Reagan. The weeks had flown by.

  “It’s great. How’s Ives liking Chicago?” I asked. My work was interesting to me, but I hardly doubt anyone else wanted to hear about it.

  “I think he misses home. He said you might be making a trip there this fall.”

  “I have to,” I confided. “I need to get everything settled.”

  Since Ives had been close with my dad, and also since he was an immensely successful businessman, he’d been helping me sort through the never-ending mess that was my father’s estate. Between my brothers and the lawyers, it was nice having someone to help.

  We’d sold off a few hotel properties and some undeveloped land, but things weren’t going as quickly as my brothers would have liked. I’m sure they had plans for their money, so a trip back to discuss redistribution of my inheritance was needed.

  I’d considered going around the holidays. Maybe my brothers would invite me over, but if they didn’t, I’d make do. I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Who was I to complain about spending Christmas in a mansion on a mountain that, for all intents and purposes, I owned?

  “What does Reagan think of it all?” she asked with a watchful eye.

  I sipped my tea, already feeling somewhat guilty. I didn’t relish in flaunting my wealth.

  “He knows Papa had a lot of properties, I’ve told him as much in conversation, but I’ve never just come out with all of it. Is that wrong?” I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing that if I felt this guilt-ridden about it, it probably was something I’d need to talk to him about.

  I was still figuring out how to navigate a relationship. Sometimes things weren’t always black and white, and lately, I’d felt like I was drowning in grey.

  “It’s not wrong, Nora. It’s all still new for you guys, but he might be able to help you. Of course, Ives always has your best interest, but you can lean on him for support.” She closed her menu and folded her hands on top of it. “I’m dying to meet him. I remember seeing you talk to him at the InformaTrade party. Very sexy. I still can’t believe you’re actually exclusive with someone.”

  The closest thing I’d come to a relationship—maybe ever—was the somewhat peculiar one I’d had with them. Commitment wasn’t my strong suit.

  “We’re seeing what happens.” I knew that was a weak description. It went beyond that, but I was insecure.

  So far, the play it by ear method was working well for us. We had dinner a few times a week—okay, most nights. But, lately, he’d been busy at work, and so had I. It shocked me how he wasn’t as demanding as I’d thought he’d be. He was easy to talk to and very forthcoming.

  When he wanted to see me, he let me know.

  When he had a question, he asked.

  The same went for me.

  I didn’t think what we had going was normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it was working for us.

  She bounced in her seat. “That reminds me. You should come with us this weekend. We’re going up to the lake, north of the city. I think it’s near Racine or something. Bring Reagan. There’s plenty of room, one of the other couples backed out.”
>
  I wasn’t sure what that would look like.

  “I don’t know, Janel.”

  We’d been out together. We met one of his clients and his wife for drinks and dinner a week ago, which went very well. They talked business and Tennille, his wife, and I talked about fashion and shoes. She was a buyer for a huge department store.

  Were we ready to be around friends? I didn’t know.

  She read my face as I thought about it, and covered my hand.

  “Oh, come on. You said he knows.”

  I wasn’t worried about him finding anything out. I didn’t have shame attached to my sexual history, I simply didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

  I conceded, “I’ll talk to him about it. When do you need to know?”

  Thoughts of a fun weekend out of the city did excite me. Besides, typically on couple’s trips people went off on their own. We might not even see most of them half the time.

  It would be a new thing for me—bringing someone. I’d always either been solo or a third.

  “Whenever. The invitation is open.” She smiled but tried to tame her enthusiasm. “It could be hot.”

  It could be a train wreck.

  I STRETCHED ON THE couch, where I’d been sleeping on nights when I didn’t stay down the hall. I hadn’t made a habit of staying, but on weekends sometimes I couldn’t help it.

  We were insatiable at times, and sleeping where I lay after being fucked-free of my ability to walk was sometimes necessary.

  My phone chimed from the table.

  REAGAN: I missed you last night. I just finished an early morning workout. Come shower with me, if you’re up.

  We’d done the same thing last week, and I had to admit, a morning shower with Mr. Warren was an excellent way to start the work day.

  ME: Give me 5?

  REAGAN: I’ll give you anything you want. Get your ass down here.

  Then again, some things never changed. I learned that when he said or text me things like that he was dead serious, but when I said no there was rarely an argument. It was like he couldn’t resist telling me what he wanted.

  After a few months, I liked to think I was starting to read him better with each day.

  I looked at the time, and we had plenty. It was well before six.

  I didn’t bother replying. I quickly brushed my teeth and walked down the hall and knocked.

  REAGAN: Use the fucking key.

  Then I received a notably suggestive picture of him already naked in the bathroom. Nothing major was showing, but it was enough to have me running back to my apartment for my key.

  I hated using it. I felt like it was more for emergencies than to casually come and go as I pleased. Besides, I hadn’t given him one, nor had he asked for one. It didn’t feel fair taking advantage of his privacy like that, especially when he had no access to mine in return.

  REAGAN: Hey, where’d you go?

  As I was typing a reply, another message popped up.

  REAGAN: I’m sorry.

  His door opened, and he peeked down the hall. That would soon be a thing of the past, we’re were getting two sets of neighbors the following week.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I held up my keys. “I went back to get these.”

  It was always hard telling what would give him the look he wore just then. Standing in his doorway wearing only a towel, his eyes lit up.

  As I walked through the door, I stretched up on my toes and placed a sweet kiss on his minty lips. “Good morning.”

  “Very good morning,” he corrected.

  I liked his mood, which boosted my confidence about asking him to go to the lake.

  In the bathroom, he dropped his towel, and like the first time, I appraised him. There was no better example of raw masculinity than Reagan Warren’s body. It was impressive and so fine.

  He didn’t mind the attention, in fact, it turned him on.

  He ran loose fingers done my face and said, “Take off your panties.”

  I smiled but stepped back. He was hard to concentrate around when he was so playful.

  “Come here,” he said, already stroking himself.

  I held up a finger. “Wait. I need to talk to you first.” I knew better than to try to have a conversation with him while we were otherwise preoccupied. It would be wasted breath.

  His stance changed, and his eyebrows rose curiously.

  I got undressed and stepped into the shower. Maybe my courage was in there.

  “Are you okay?” he asked stepping in behind me. He’d already had the water on, and it felt great. I wet my hair and stepped out of the way.

  My favorite shampoo and conditioner sat on the ledge next to his. Also new, was a bottle of body wash and a lady’s razor.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for these.” I said picking up the shampoo.

  “I liked our morning shower last week, but thought you’d probably like it more if you didn’t have to go to work smelling like a man.”

  Actually, I’d loved smelling him on my skin that day, but again he shocked me with how thoughtful he was.

  He stood facing me, back to the spray, and dipped his head back to get it wet. While I lathered the shampoo into my hair, I leaned forward and kissed his chest.

  “You’re welcome. What do you want to talk about?” he asked, then helped me scrub my head.

  “I was invited to go away this weekend.” I gawked at his abs. Sure, we weren’t having sex which made talking marginally easier, but shit. The sight of him—in all of his glory—was still a mountain of distraction.

  “Okay,” he answered.

  “Do you have plans?” I looked up at him with one eye, shampoo making the other burn. He ran a wet thumb over the suds that had fallen into my face, but it didn’t help.

  We switched places, and I rinsed.

  “I don’t have plans.”

  “Do you think you’d want to go?” If he wasn’t comfortable with going, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  “Are you inviting me?” He held my conditioner, ready to squeeze some into my hand.

  “Yes, but—“

  “Yes. I want to go.”

  I cocked my head, hoping to convey I didn’t believe he’d honestly thought it through. One thing I knew about him was he always took his time making decisions.

  “That was fast. Don’t you want to know who we’ll be with or where or what we’ll be doing?” All questions I’d expected straight off the bat. I’d been nervous he’d say no, but his quick yes caught me off-guard.

  “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  I rubbed the silky cream rinse through my hair, then squirted some soap into the washcloth he had out for me.

  “I think it could be fun.”

  “Do you want me to go?” Honestly, going alone didn’t appeal to me.

  “I do,” I answered.

  “Good. You can tell me about it over dinner. Right now, I want you to rinse off, and let me have you for breakfast.”

  How could I argue with that?

  We had each other for breakfast. He had seconds, and we both were late for work.

  SIX

  PAST

  REAGAN—Thursday, August 28, 2008

  I’d never been late for work in my whole fucking life. Never.

  Turns out, it wasn’t the end of the world.

  Everything had exceptions, and I held myself to my work hours anyway. I didn’t remember ever being told what mine were. Usually there by seven, I stayed until I felt satisfied to leave.

  However, for the first time in my career, I was thinking about the weekend or the end of the day, on a more regular basis. That could have been attributed to how busy Price-McClelland had become, but I knew some of it was Nora.

  “Claudia is Justin out?”

  “Yes, Reggie. He called in this morning and he’s taking the rest of the week off. If you need anything, you’re to email him.”

  I had some paperwork I needed his signature for, but the project wasn’t act
ually due until the following Wednesday.

  ME: Are you working tomorrow?

  I hadn’t thought to ask earlier. I’d been a little busy. She’d told me a while back that she wasn’t working on Labor Day. Neither was I, but an extra day off—away with Nora—sounded even better. Even if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

  NORA: Are you?

  I appreciated how she almost always had her phone nearby, therefore I didn’t have to wait long for a response. I still fucking hated waiting.

  ME: I could take off if that makes anything easier.

  NORA: An extra-long weekend? That’s so not like you.

  It wasn’t, but a lot of things weren’t like me. Why not add another to the list?

  NORA: I can take it off.

  ME: Perfect. I’ll get everything I need finished up today. Are you okay with a late dinner?

  NORA: If it was anything like breakfast...

  I laughed. She never failed to surprise me.

  NORA: Send me a text when you know about what time. I’ll order something.

  Knowing I’d have four whole days with her made the afternoon fly by.

  “OKAY. SO ABOUT THIS weekend. What can I expect?” I had to ask. I was going to keep an open mind about everything, but I also didn’t want to look a fool going in blind. I needed time to acclimate with things, especially if this was going to be our first real test.

  Still, I was sure I wouldn’t be okay with certain things.

  I lifted the steak gyro to my mouth and waited for her to answer.

  Across the table from me in her apartment, she crossed her legs under herself and wiped her mouth. Then she took a long drink and set her water back down.

  “Well, we were invited by Janel and Ives. It’s about an hour north of the city. She sent me the address—by the way. I told her we would drive up on our own sometime tomorrow. Is that all right?”

  I’d assumed they invited us, which was the immediate reason I agreed to it. If I wasn’t there and didn’t know what was going on, I would have lost my mind.