“I’ve told you before, I’m not boyfriend material. Any past disclaimers apply. Last night was really good, but that’s all it was.” He rubbed the back of his neck and studied the ceiling. “I consider you a good friend.” He looked at her. “That doesn’t have to change unless you want it to.”
“Am I the only one who felt a connection?” Why couldn’t she drop this? Because she’d convinced herself he felt the same as she did, and she was going to make him admit it. How childish was that?
“I adore you. But I don’t do long-term. Hell, I don’t think it’s fair to call it any sort of term.”
“Have you ever tried?”
A sympathetic smile appeared on his face. “More times than you’ve had boyfriends. I’d bet a lot on that.”
“Which is a low blow, and you know it.”
He shrugged. “I’m trying to keep this civil and pain free. I’ve tried real hard not to hide my intentions from you. From the start, you’ve known this was a friendship and nothing more.”
“Things can change.” Now she sounded desperate, and she hated that as much as the growing void inside.
“This is exactly what I warned you about. You’re looking for an emotional link that isn’t there. You don’t know enough about me, to assume there could be one.”
The words and casual dismissal stung. His cool delivery chipped away at her. “I know a lot more about you than you give me credit for,” she said.
“Really?” Snideness filled the word, and a wicked twist flickered on his face before vanishing. “Like what, Ms. Observant? If you say there’s the sex stuff, you fail.”
“This is a test? Fine. Regardless of the fact you give everyone a nickname, you never forget a face or a real name.”
“A lot of people know that.”
“But you do it to keep from getting attached. You hated growing up the poor kid in a rich school, so you learned the fast quip and quick jokes were the best way to shrug off cruelty and prove to people you didn’t care.”
“Mercy could have told you that.” His wince defied his casual tone.
“She didn’t. But this isn’t a question of how I know, but what I know. Which includes the fact that you’re a lot kinder and more compassionate than you want anyone to think, and it’s not for some pseudo-macho reason. You’d surrender nearly everything, rather than hurt the people you care about.” She swallowed, not sure she should say the next bit. But she was going to lay this all on the line if it was going to hurt either way. “And I know you care about me as much as I care about you.”
“You’re right.”
Her heart leapt into her throat.
“Which is why I’ll surrender you to keep from hurting you,” he said.
Anger shoved her hope aside. All this discussion, so he could pull the this is what’s best for you card? No. She wasn’t having that. “That’s an asshole move. You don’t get to decide what is and isn’t good for me. That’s not your call.”
“Consent goes both ways.”
She hated the way he abused and tossed that line around. “Because you know what I need better than I do? You fucking hypocrite. Where the hell do you get off, pulling a line like that? Especially after last night’s monologue, about how you regret pushing your will on Lucas’s life.”
“I was exhausted and strung out. Not thinking straight. I needed an outlet after a stressful day. What do you want me to say?”
The excuses burrowed under her skin, raising her ire to new levels. “So, like that— bam—this is over?”
“This never started. You got to slum it for a while. I had some fun. Time to move on.”
“That’s how you sum up our time together.”
He nodded at the phone in her hand. “Call your sister. Tell her to come get you. You can leave that on the coffee table when you’re done.”
She itched to chase after him when he walked out of the room, but her pride didn’t need another blow. If he was going to be a stubborn asshole, she’d let him. Tears stung her eyelids, and she wiped them away angrily. If this was how he approached romance, he was right. She was better off without him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Andrew hated himself more with each word he used, to push Susan away. He meant what he said last night, but it was idealistic bullshit. He saw her hurt today, when she found the exchange with Rissa, and reality crashed in. If he stayed in Susan’s life, it would crush them both. Her, when he fucked up, and him as a result.
Better a little pain now, than a screaming blow-out a month or two down the line.
She was a fascination, unique and compelling. Once he got used to her, his interest would wander. It always did. A shout in the back of his mind repeated, What if this time is different? He never managed to shut the question up completely, but if he threw himself into other things, he could ignore the echoes.
For the next several days, he helped Kandace make sure Lucas was recovering. Andrew wasn’t surprised Mercy refused to take his calls. He left her a message, saying he was going to work from Kandace’s for the rest of his trip. A few hours later, a courier showed up with his laptop and a note from Mercy, letting him know they could conduct any other meetings via phone or Skype, the way they did when he wasn’t in town.
Would he be able to win back Mercy’s trust this time? The question tried to summon another one—how long until he got over Susan. He ignored both.
That night, six days after bringing Lucas home, Andrew and Kandace sat at the kitchen table to figure out what came next for them.
“After Christmas, I’ll fly back to Georgia long enough to tie up loose ends and grab my things,” Andrew said.
Kandace smiled. She hadn’t done much of that lately, and it was nice to see. “It’ll be nice to finally have you close again. It’s a shame it took this much to get you here.”
“Mom.” Lucas stood in the doorway, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Can I talk to you?”
Andrew pushed back from the table. “We can wrap this up later.” He was trying his damnedest to not push his presence on Lucas—assuring the boy there was no reason to call him Dad; making sure it was clear Lucas didn’t have to talk to him unless he wanted to… Lucas took full advantage of the offer and kept his distance from Andrew.
“Both of you.” Lucas’s voice was so soft, Andrew wasn’t sure he heard right.
Andrew sat back down and clenched his jaw shut, terrified of saying the wrong thing and obliterating this opportunity.
“I don’t want to go back to school after winter break,” Lucas said.
“At all, or just that school?” Kandace’s tone was calm and unwavering. It carried no judgement or anger.
Andrew was impressed. Would he need to learn to do that?
Lucas continued to study his feet. “I need to learn stuff still. But I don’t like it there.”
“We’ll find you a different school. Do you want to sit with us?” Kandace gestured to a chair, toeing it out from the table a few inches.
Lucas shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m going to my room, to read.” He stayed in the doorway, though.
“What’s wrong?” Kandace asked.
“Are you really moving here? Like, for good?” Lucas looked at Andrew.
This was an easy enough question to answer. “Yup. There’s a house a few blocks away I’m trying to buy.” Andrew put an offer in a few days ago.
“I don’t have to live there, do I?”
“No. But you’re welcome any time.” Andrew could do this. He could be a normal, reasonable uncle figure about the entire thing.
Silence descended over the room again. Lucas fiddled with his fingers, looking everywhere but at the table.
Maybe Andrew couldn’t do this. Silence wasn’t his thing, and neither was beating around the bush. He’d been aching to broach the subject of what happened to Lucas and the best way to work toward recovery. “Would you like to talk to someone about what happened in therapy?” That was as nonjudgmental as he could
be with the question.
“No.” Lucas’s voice cracked.
Kandace gripped her mug so hard, her knuckles turned white.
“I don’t want to talk to you, because you’ll make fun of me,” Lucas said.
Andrew squelched the hurt the words caused and forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn this level of scorn, but he’d work as hard as he could, to get past it. “I never want to make fun of anything that hurts you. And I didn’t mean me. Someone who specializes in listening.” He’d gotten a few referrals for local shrinks who specialized in child psychology and sexual identity.
“I’m not going to therapy again. Don’t make me.” Tears welled up in Lucas’s eyes.
Fuck.
Kandace crossed the room and crouched to pull him into a hug. “I won’t, sweetie. I promised, and I meant it. That’s not what he means.”
Technically, that was exactly what Andrew meant, but he understood why phrasing was important. “This isn’t someone who wants to change you. They just listen. You can even take your mom with you, but you don’t have to.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m going to bed now, if that’s okay.”
Kandace hugged him again and pointed him toward his room. “Of course. Good night, sweetie.”
The next day, Lucas announced he wanted to talk to someone. Andrew tried to mimic Kandace’s calm smile, but inside he was cheering and hopeful.
* * * *
Andrew dove back into the piles of work waiting for him—contracts to be signed, decisions to be made. Working from Kandace’s was far less of a distraction than being in the R&T offices.
Through it all, Andrew kept Susan out of his mind. He spent lunches and evenings getting to know Lucas. It wasn’t a smooth relationship. The boy frequently didn’t want anything to do with him.
And when it was night and quiet, a smiling face taunted Andrew’s memories. Susan’s crystalline laugh and clear blue eyes haunted his dreams. He needed to move on. This was a great time to evaluate how the market was changing. Which sites needed to go. What new fetishes were trending.
Could Susan bend into positions like that?
God-Fuck-It.
You’re being a Grade-A jackass about this. The taunting echoed in his thoughts.
Nope. Not listening. He had porn to evaluate. It had been a week and a half since he saw her. Why wouldn’t she leave his thoughts alone?
Conversations were terse with Mercy. That hurt, but at least she was taking his calls again. She’d recover, he’d find a new fascination, and they’d go back to normal.
“How’s Susan?” The question slipped out at the end of a business meeting, and he snarled at himself.
“None of your fucking business.”
That seemed fair. “Right. I’ll let you go. If I don’t talk to you in the next couple of days, Merry Christmas.”
She sighed. “Why did you do it?”
That was such an open-ended question, he didn’t know where to start. “Why haven’t you hung up on me yet?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
Because you adore me, stuck in his throat. Probably not the best time for playful teasing. “I’ll take what I can get, regardless of your reasons.”
“You led her on, and then you were an asshole about it.” Mercy’s anger singed him over the phone lines.
He wanted to argue he hadn’t done anything like that, but while he told a lot of stories, he didn’t want this situation misunderstood. Susan was more than a fascination. He felt like shit without her around, missed her, and cared about her so much, he was willing to risk an incredible friendship, to tell her how he felt. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t believe you.”
The words hurt more than he expected. “What are the odds you’ll give me her new number?” Stupid question. There was no way. He needed to talk to Susan, though. Ignoring what he felt for her hurt too much. Even if she didn’t forgive him, he needed to tell her she was right about how he felt.
“How soon do you think Hell will freeze over?”
Her response meant he wasn’t the only one guilty of imposing his will on Susan’s best interests. “I just want to tell her I was wrong. You can’t stop me from talking to her.” Not the best approach to take. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“That doesn’t mean I have to make it easy,” she said.
“That’s not your call.”
She gave a barking laugh. “You’re one to talk. How’s it feel to be on the other side of that line? I won’t let you do to her what you did to me. Walk away now, and maybe we can repair our friendship.”
The possibility of losing Mercy slammed into him. He didn’t expect to have to choose between his anchor and the woman he was falling for. “I’ll leave you both alone, but you have to do something for me in return.”
“You’ve used up all your favors.”
“I want one more anyway. Promise to tell Susan I asked about her. You don’t have to pass along a message or tell her what we talked about, or that you’re being as stubborn as I was about what’s best for her. Just tell her I asked.”
“It won’t change anything, but I’ll tell her. Goodbye.”
He stared at the phone for several minutes after, replaying everything in his head. Not only the conversation, but the time since he’ arrived in Utah. The bits with Susan and without.
If Susan called him back, would he sacrifice his friendship with Mercy to tell Susan how he felt?
Yes. The admission hurt. He hoped it didn’t come down to that. Mercy would pass along his message; he didn’t doubt it. But how long could he force himself to wait, to see if Susan called back, before he broke, drove up there, and demanded to see her?
He’d surrendered that right, but he wanted one more chance to admit he’d fucked up.
*
Susan knew this was coming. Andrew never made any secrets about it. He tried to warn her up front that she’d get emotionally attached to her first time. She insisted she knew better. How naïve was that?
For the first couple of days, she didn’t want to leave her room. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why tears wouldn’t come if it hurt this badly. She forced herself up on Friday. She had an interview to go to and a life to lead. A ghosted memory of a mistake wouldn’t take that from her.
Driving into Salt Lake so close to Christmas was a pain. Traffic everywhere. People. Snow. But it was worth it. She nailed the classroom portion of her interview. The kids loved her, and she had a blast instructing them. A happy elation filled her when she got the job, but she couldn’t find the energy to celebrate.
She spoke with her Academic Adviser at the college. It took a little convincing to drive home the point that no, she wasn’t going to school on her dad’s dollar anymore. The guy was sympathetic when he finally got it. He helped her fill out financial aid forms based on her new job. She’d have to skip the spring term, because she needed pay stubs to finish her paperwork. He promised to push her application through, the moment he was able to. That gave her another couple of years, until graduation, to figure out how she’d pay the bill.
Phone call completed, she wandered into the kitchen. Mercy was home. Susan could only take so many pity looks and weak smiles.
“How are you doing?” It was the same question Mercy always led with, these days.
Susan had a prepackaged answer, as well. “Fine.” She grabbed the carton of orange juice from the fridge.
“Andrew asked about you.”
The juice slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a plastic splat. She fumbled to retrieve it and set it back on its shelf. “Oh?”
“I told him I’d tell you that.”
Susan turned to face her. “Should I call him?”
Mercy hesitated, studying the counter. “That’s not up to me.”
“Did you and he ever…” She couldn’t ask that. It was the last thing she wanted to hear.
“Dated? Slept together?
Both.”
That didn’t hurt the way Susan thought it would. She expected it. “What happened?”
“He wanted an open relationship. I didn’t.”
“So he cheated on you?” The possibility bothered Susan, but it didn’t sound right.
“No. He told me from the start. I thought I was okay with it, and I wasn’t.”
“Do you ever regret it? The breaking up bit.”
“I don’t. I’ve always loved Ian. Andrew knew that before I did.”
“And Andrew?”
“I don’t know that he’s ever loved someone before now.”
Before now. The words chewed at Susan, making her decision more difficult. Everything he did to push her away infuriated her—treating her like she couldn’t think for herself, turning away after she laid her feelings out on the line… Was he capable of admitting he made a mistake? Mercy only said he mentioned her. Not that he apologized or asked for anything specific. Was Susan a booty call now?
“Before I forget.” Mercy touched her arm, drawing her attention again. “We’re having Christmas dinner with Liz. You’re invited, and we’d love to have you along.”
That was what Susan needed. Rather than watching two people swoon over each other on their first holiday together, she could watch five. “Thanks, but I’ll hang out here, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” Mercy’s frown said it wasn’t quite. “It’s an open offer, if you change your mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kandace stood in the dining room doorway, dressed in her Sunday best. “You sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?”
“I’m fine,” Lucas said.
“I’ll only be out for a few hours.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Andrew rolled his eyes at the display, but he liked seeing it as much as he liked that Lucas had decided Andrew was an acceptable substitute for Midnight Mass. This was one of several nice surprises since the boy started talking to someone who understood him and was equipped to help him embrace what made him happy. “Go. Worship. He’s kicking my ass.” Andrew gestured at the Monopoly board on the table. “I’m going to have him negotiate the rest of this house purchase.”
Renting Romance (Your Ad Here #4) Page 17
