“I missed you,” she admitted, tossing him a warm smile.
“Yeah,” he replied ambiguously, leading her into an exhibit room.
“I’m surprised it’s so quiet in here, I thought it would be busier,” she observed, looking around the hall, “but it’s nice.”
“I guess all the art geeks have seen it already,” he quipped, teasing her gently.
“All but this one,” she mused, squeezing his arm.
They walked quietly through the exhibit, enjoying the unique art pieces, but talking very little, respectful of the quiet space. It suited Luke just fine, given that he wasn’t feeling all that talkative. He had spent much of the week weighing his feelings about the party, and had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t be Mimi’s wingman anymore. It was just too confusing.
It wasn’t that he had changed his mind about her venturing out into the world, exploring her sexuality and such, he still wanted that for her. The problem was that he was juggling mixed feelings about her. Emotions that didn’t serve either of them. He’d always had a fondness for her and cared deeply about her, but they were friends! He had never been good at relationships, failing miserably at every single one he had found himself in. Relationships were like a Jenga tower, constantly and precariously trying to maneuver the pieces, building on a fragile foundation that inevitably would come crashing down. He sucked at puzzles.
Emma drifted away from him, casually walking ahead as she admired the collection. He observed her curiously, his thoughts drifting back to the party. He tried to push the memory down, hoping his shame would follow suit. He had made a huge mistake that night, taking her there. There had been several situations where he wished life was like an etch a sketch, just give it a good shake and be granted a clean slate. That night was one of them.
Mimi laughed and turned around searching for him, to share whatever amused her. Her laughter was so melodic, and he wondered if it had always sounded that way. Her eyes brightened as soon as they landed on him.
“Luke, come look. This piece reminds me of the sculpture you made in Mrs. McLennan’s art class, remember? The one that got a call home to your parents?”
He caught up with her and saw exactly what she meant, what had made her laugh so freely. He chuckled at the overtly phallic statue, recalling how much crap he took for his ‘artistic license’, barely escaping suspension. There were very few people in his life that shared his history with him and knew him so intimately. Mimi was one of those people, and the thought of ever losing her was unbearable.
“Remember when she gave you proper hell in front of everyone and you defended the piece quite proudly, insisting that it was very realistic, that you were only following her instructions?” she giggled.
“Yes, as I recall I told her she should have been more specific that the sculpture was supposed to be of my face,” he laughed, the memory softening his pensive mood.
“I don’t think Mrs. McLennan liked you much after that, but if I recall correctly, Samantha Shepherd sure did!”
“Oh yeah, she was hot. Must have liked what she saw,” he boasted, not even trying to mask his pride.
“Oh yeah, big guy, what makes you think that?”
“She couldn’t wait to get into my pants. Pretty sure she told me later how modest my sculpture had been,” he teased, earning a good-natured punch in the arm.
“Really, Luke...”
“What can I say, there wasn’t enough clay.”
Their laughter quickly shifted his mood, bringing him back to the familiar comfort he always seemed to feel in her presence, the place he protected so diligently. He didn’t want anything to fuck up what they had together. They spent the next hour or so poking through the museum, making fun of obscure pieces, reflecting on how bizarre it was that they were considered ‘art’. Luke even mused how quick Mrs. McLennan had been to dismiss his work as smut, when clearly he was just an undiscovered talent, way before his time.
Afterward, they went to the little pub around the corner for spiked coffees, neither of them ready to part ways. Mimi seemed to have something on her mind, he could read it in her eyes. He was pretty sure it could be only one of two things, and wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about either. He figured she either wanted to talk about the party, or she wanted to talk about Arran, ask him to impart his wisdom on both subjects. The problem was, since the damn party, he wasn’t sure he could be objective anymore. He decided to head her off at the pass, hoping to avoid her questions.
“So, I have some news,” he stammered, impatiently knocking the sweet foam off the top of his coffee, kicking himself for not asking the server to hold the whipped cream. He hated the stuff ever since he’d sprayed half a can of it on a woman and had to lick it all off. By the time he had lapped most of it away he was gagging on it like it was another man’s spunk. It wasn’t one of his finer moments.
“You do?” Mimi asked, raising her brows. It wasn’t often that he willingly shared details of his life with her without her teasing it out of him. It was how things worked with them. It was just part of their dance.
“I’m seeing someone.”
Her mouth dropped open, just a little, as she regarded him curiously, her feelings carefully guarded.
“You are? Who? When?” she asked, obviously controlling her tone. He smiled at her warmly, hoping to appear casual.
“I met her awhile back, but nothing really developed. Then, out of the blue, she texted me and we went out...and had a good time. We both agreed that we wanted to see each other again,” he reported, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
She pouted out her bottom lip, as though contemplating his words, but said nothing, forcing him to continue.
“Anyway, I would kind of like to see where it goes. I mean, knowing my luck, it probably won’t last long, but who knows? It’s worth a shot.”
“Wow, that’s...great. What’s her name? How did you meet?” she asked cautiously, selecting her words carefully.
“Maggie,” he answered too quickly, drawing another inquisitive look from her. “We met at a party somewhere. I don’t remember.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I won’t be able to be your fairy godfather anymore, at least until I know where things stand. Make sense?” he explained delicately, anxious that she might sense a shift in his voice, something that would reveal his dishonesty.
“Sure. I guess it would be kind of awkward to explain that to a new girlfriend. I get it,” she shrugged, trying to hide her disappointment. He smiled back awkwardly, swallowing his guilt.
Mimi turned away from him, pretending to search the room. “What’s she like? Is she nice?”
“Um...nice? Yeah, I guess. Pretty, petite, feisty,” he embellished, wishing he could change the subject.
“Just how you like them,” she teased, looking back at him. He nodded noncommittally and shrugged.
“I don’t really know what I like anymore,” he mumbled, catching her eye. She cocked her head at him, questioning him with her gaze.
“I guess that makes two of us,” she agreed softly.
“What do you mean?” he approached cautiously, curiously hopeful by her admission.
“I’m finding myself waffling back and forth with Arran,” she began, quickly looking away again. He was grateful she didn’t see him rolling his eyes.
“Sometimes he seems to be exactly the kind of man I want, exciting, spontaneous, adventurous, but then there are other times that he really frustrates me.”
“How so?” Luke asked, grateful to change the topic but annoyed the subject was Arran. He took a careful sip of his hot coffee to avoid her eyes, just in case his irritation was evident.
“I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s a good guy, honestly, but sometimes he can be a little patronizing. I mean, I get that he’s a man who is used to making million dollar decisions every day. He has to be authoritative, decisive, confident...and he knows what he wants, but sometimes I get the impression that my needs are in
cidental, like he always knows best,” she explained. Her tone was hushed and controlled, as though she needed to arrange her thoughts before offering them. Luke had been down this road with her before. He didn’t like it then, and it was even harder to watch now.
“But he’s also charismatic, charming and sexy, you know? He’s curious like me, generous, and playful,” she confessed longingly, as though her mind was offering a sexy memory she couldn’t dismiss, he seemed to know exactly what I needed...
“Mimi,” Luke interrupted with a smirk, pulling her attention back, “does he remind you of anyone?”
She looked up at him, her thoughts muddled, but said nothing. Luke sighed, shaking his head. He had mixed feelings about Arran and felt even more conflicted sharing them with her. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea, or any idea, especially given his own revelations over the past few weeks. He wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole with her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely concerned by his question.
Luke shrugged his shoulders, wishing he hadn’t said anything. In so many ways, Arran was just like her stupid ex-husband, controlling, detached, narcissistic. All excellent traits in business, but a nightmare in relationships. How did the woman not see it? Sure, Arran could offer her adventure, he had the resources and the connections, but when Luke introduced Mimi to him, he didn’t realize just how much like Andrew the bloke actually was. He didn’t fucking trust him.
“I don’t know, Mimi, the condescension, the superiority, the objectifying. You got nothing here?” he blurted, more abrasive than he intended.
She pulled her breath in slowly, knitting her brows. Certain it was recognition, he sat back in his chair to punctuate his point, but it was short-lived.
“Objectifying? That seems harsh. I mean the man has a few flaws, but really, Luke, ‘why beholdest thou the mote that’s in thy brother’s eye...”
“How so?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. He hated when she pulled out old Catholic parables. She only did that when she was feeling smug. Fuck her.
“Luke, you have been objectifying women for years, using them at whim to satisfy your own needs, putting up walls. You see the women you sleep with as a means to an end and nothing more.” she scolded gently. “I’m not judging you, honest. I love you, you know that, but you can’t sit here and tell me that it’s ok for one man but undesirable in another.”
“Are you seriously comparing me to Arran right now?” he sneered, his tone deeply indignant. Is that how she saw him?
“Not directly, in many ways you’re very different but when it comes to this, there are parallels. The thing is, I believe in my heart of hearts that one day you’ll meet someone that will break through those walls. I think it may be the same for Arran.”
“Sounds like you’re living in a frigging fairy tale, Mimi. You can be so idealistic sometimes. That’s not how it works in the real world,” he blurted cynically, still stinging from her observation. And how did this become about him?
She smiled. “Sometimes it does.”
“And you think you’re that woman for Arran?” he grumbled, his ego bruised.
“I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“And what about Andrew? How’d that work out for you?” he spat, unable to mask his contempt for either man. She jerked her head back as though he slapped her, and he instantly wished he could reel the words back in.
“Whoa, how did this get so far off the rails?” she cried, holding her hands out in front of her as though trying to stop a speeding train. “What’s your problem?”
She was confused, and he didn’t blame her. This was exactly why he needed to distance himself from her, he thought. He had no objectivity left when it came to Mimi. Zip, zero, zilch. He couldn’t quite narrow down what he was feeling or what caused him to be such a prick to her.
“You sound like a jealous lover!” she snapped, aggressively sitting back in her chair. “What the fuck, Luke?”
In six short words, she had managed to narrow it down. He was jealous, especially since the party, and suddenly grateful they’d come in separate cars. He had to get the hell out of there.
“That’s ridiculous,” he denied, desperate to take the spotlight off himself, “I’m baffled by how blind you are. You can be so naive at times. I’m just so fucking tired of bandaging you up every time you bleed! Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”
“I never frigging asked you to, Luke” she hissed, revealing her own indignation. “I didn’t know it was such a fucking burden being my friend!”
Luke nervously looked around the room, afraid their voices were carrying, then looked back at her miserably, a storm brewing beneath his collar. He wasn’t really angry with her, he was pissed off at himself, but in that moment it was all the same to him.
“I need to get the fuck out of here,” he stammered, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and threw it on the table. She looked at him with her mouth agape, too shocked to object. He felt like a complete asshole.
“Do me a favor, don’t fucking call me for awhile,” he blurted, knowing he was just making it worse but not knowing why.
“Luke, what is fucking happening here,” she protested, her voice raw with confusion. It was almost unbearable to look at her, knowing he was hurting her. He grabbed his keys and pushed himself away from the table, deserting the pub as fast as he could. He silently begged her not to follow.
Chapter 33
“I’m glad you called. I knew at some point you would,” she whispered in his ear, right before sinking her teeth into the fleshy lobe.
He pulled in his breath, allowing the pain to fuse with the rage still churning in his gut. He didn’t know why he reached out to her, it could have been anyone but he chose the one woman who would make him feel even worse than he already did. He deserved to feel shitty, and she was perfect for the job. It was the second time he had used her to serve a purpose that day.
He wasn’t sure why he had pulled Maggie’s name out of the air when Mimi asked him his girlfriend’s name but for some reason, she had popped into his head. And here he was again, about to rage fuck a married woman to make himself feel something, anything but self-condemnation. Or maybe it was because of that. It didn’t fucking matter and frankly, she wouldn’t care. They deserved each other, in the ugliest possible way.
They were at a motel near the airport, a seedy, pay by the hour smut-hole for horny teenagers, hookers, drug dealers and apparently, adulterers. He had texted Maggie after driving around in his car for an hour, contrite and agitated, too anxious to be alone. He had been full of self-hatred and regret, hurting the one person that ever cared about him.
And why? Because he was scared to fucking death. He tried to deny it, to bury his feelings down as deep as they would go, to ignore all the emotions that surfaced every time he saw her.
She was always on his mind in one way or another and always had been, since the day they’d met. He was fiercely protective of her, of their friendship, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it, in some capacity. It was true, every single relationship he’d ever been a part of had crashed and burned, and he convinced himself it was because he wasn’t capable of love, but what if he had been wrong? What if all those relationships failed because he was in love with Mimi?
Maggie unbuttoned his shirt, kissing and sucking his flesh, rooting down his chest like a hungry kitten looking for a meal. Every now and then she’d sink her nails into him, reminding him that this particular kitty had claws. She reached his belt buckle and looked up at him wickedly, pulling back the leather to release its grips. He felt his cock slowly swell in anticipation, blissfully unaware of his stifling pain.
“God, I’ve missed this big cock. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had you in my mouth. Why did you have to be so morally conscientious? We could have been fucking all this time,” she growled, pulling his pants down to free his cock. She eagerly wrapped her mouth around the head, pulling on the
loose flesh, coaxing an erection.
He tried to concentrate on the warm, slippery sensations of her impatient mouth, but his mind kept drifting to Mimi. Everything was fine until she asked him to be her wingman, her proverbial fairy godfather. His feelings had been discreetly tucked away, all safe and secure, living quite comfortably in the dark spaces of denial. But then something changed. His desire started probing at him, little by little, poking him cautiously, like one would a sleeping bear. Maybe it was witnessing her awakening, sharing in her excitement, watching her blossom with each and every experience, discovering her confidence for the first time in her life. It fucking charged him up again too. He wanted her, and he wanted her to want him back.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he stopped wanting anyone else. That confused him.
Maggie wrapped her hand tightly around his balls, pulling his semi-rigid cock deep into her mouth until he could feel the tip grazing the back of her throat. She moaned her approval, deliciously lubricating him with her saliva. He laced his fingers through her spiky hair, guiding her while she mouth-fucked him, but still, pleasure eluded him. Not even mouth to cock could resuscitate him.
The truth was, everything might have been okay, he might have been able to swallow back his feelings, push on with her in her adventurous quest, ignore his own desires. But then the fucking party happened. He had no idea things would unfold the way they had and worse, he underestimated how he would feel about it. It was one colossal cluster-fuck, and it was all his fault. He had no one to blame but himself and now he was losing her.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Maggie asked, pulling her mouth away from him, her hand desperately trying to squeeze life into his flaccid cock.
“I don’t know, I guess my mind’s not in it,” he admitted, absently stroking her hair.
Royal Engagement Page 60
