This Changes Everything

by Gretchen Galway

  “The cute piano teacher?”

  Unexpected jealousy stabbed into Sly’s gut. Mark was hardly a ladies’ man, and he was passionately in love with his wife, but Sly didn’t like him expressing the slightest hint of attraction to Cleo. “Yes.”

  “She’s there with you? Like, overnight?”

  Sly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said again.

  Mark whistled. “I was wondering when that would happen. Mom strikes again.” He chuckled.

  “It’s no big deal. Just having a good time.” He didn’t want Mark to embarrass Cleo when he came over. “See you soon.” He hung up and let the dogs back in. They rushed in as if they’d been gone a month, sniffing and jumping on him.

  Cleo spoke behind him. “Who was that?”

  Startled, he spun around. She wore a men’s red plaid flannel robe that hugged her hips and plunged low between her breasts. “Mark.” He caught her by the waist and reached under the robe, already hungry for the feel of her.

  “He’s coming here?”

  He nodded. “I called to tell him about the wedding, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him over the phone.”

  With an odd expression on her face, she leaned away from him. “I’d better take a shower.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize this was how it was going to go.”

  “What?”

  “Mark. Coming over. It was just going to be a phone call.”

  “Oh. Right. It’s no big deal.” She patted him on the shoulder and broke free. “Just having a good time, right?”

  She’d disappeared into the kitchen before he realized what she’d said. The same words he’d used with Mark.

  Not good.

  He jogged after her. “I said that to Mark because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “It’s fine. Good times are good.” With a wave over her shoulder, she went upstairs.

  Cursing under his breath, he picked up Zeus, who continued to shadow him, and succumbed to a face licking. Affectionate little guy.

  Did she really mean it? She wasn’t upset?

  From another woman, he would’ve thought no. He’d screwed up, and she was hiding her true feelings. But with Cleo, he wasn’t sure. They had a long history of being brutally honest with each other.

  Of course, they also had a long history of keeping their clothes on.

  He set Zeus on the floor and wiped the dog spit off his cheek.

  Had they gone too far, too fast?

  ♢ ♡ ♤

  To calm the waters, Sly made pancake batter. Cleo loved pancakes. Trixie’s kitchen was well stocked, and Cleo had brought butter from her place. Butter could make so many things better. It was a reliable happiness lubricant.

  Before he’d heated the pan, the doorbell rang. He set aside the batter and went to the door.

  “You could’ve come right in,” Sly told Mark, surprised he’d rang the bell. “Your house, not mine.”

  Mark, in a sweatshirt and old jeans, stepped inside and looked around. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

  Cleo appeared on the stairs. “Was that the doorbell?”

  “It’s Mark,” Sly said. If she and Mark had ever met, it had been a couple of years ago, and Mark had changed since then. His wife Rose had burned the rags he used to wear, and sexual triumph had given him a taller stature. “Mark, Cleo.”

  “Hi, Mark,” she said. “Nice to see you.”

  “Hi.” Mark managed to smile at Cleo before turning his gaze to the floor, cheeks flushed. Marriage hadn’t cured him completely from his natural shyness around women.

  Sly patted Mark’s shoulder, stalling for time. How was he going to tell him about Trixie and Hugo? He caught Cleo’s eye and gestured for her to go back upstairs. No reason for her to get caught in the crossfire.

  She hesitated, then said, “I have to dry my hair. Then I’m going to take your mom’s dogs out for a walk like I promised. Did you feed them, Sly?”

  “I fed them,” he said, gesturing again for her to go. Finally, she turned and walked upstairs.

  When she was gone, Mark said, “You’re like an old married couple.” Something in Sly’s face must’ve amused him, because then he laughed. “Let’s go into the kitchen. My mom hides chocolate in the back of the junk drawer. She thinks I don’t know.”

  “Good idea. You can eat a pancake when they’re done.”

  “Who’s making pancakes?”

  “I am.”

  Mark strode into the kitchen and opened a drawer by the fridge. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “I’m thirty-five. I would’ve starved by now if I couldn’t.”

  “You can afford to eat out,” Mark said, untangling a chocolate bar from a wad of string, screwdrivers, white earbud cords, tape. “But I suppose that’s why you’re cooking breakfast foods. Not so easy to get delivery.”

  Sly turned on the heat under a nonstick griddle. As much as he’d love to continue talking about himself, it was time to get to the point. “Listen, about your mom,” he began.

  The chocolate bar froze halfway to Mark’s mouth. “I thought you said she was fine.”

  “There’s no easy way to say this. I tried to stop it. But nobody would listen to me.”

  “For God’s sake, what?” Mark asked.

  Sly took a deep breath. “She and my uncle Hugo got married.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They called us first thing in the morning from one of those all-night wedding chapels off the Strip, asking us to be their witnesses,” Sly said. “They really went through with it. I’m sorry, I really am, but there wasn’t anything I could do.”

  To his surprise, Mark barely reacted at all. His brow furrowed the way it did when he was absorbed in an engineering problem. “This was yesterday?”

  “They didn’t seem intoxicated, but they’d probably been up all night having a good time.” Sly cleared his throat. “My uncle has, ah, liked her for a long time.”

  “Interesting.” Mark took a bite of the chocolate, his gaze fixed on Sly’s face. “So, they called you and Cleo, you came, they got married.”

  “You’re taking this really well.”

  “Just trying to get the whole picture,” Mark said. “The ceremony, it was just the four of you?”

  Sly paused. “And Elvis.”

  “Wow,” Mark said flatly. “No wonder you were upset. You hate Elvis.”

  Sly felt that Mark wasn’t taking this at all the way he should’ve been taking it. “They really did it. They’re married. My Uncle Hugo is now your stepfather.”

  “Having a vet in the family could come in handy. Rose and I are thinking about getting a cat.”

  Smelling the butter burning, Sly turned off the heat and shoved the pan to a back burner. “I should’ve told you over the phone and saved us both the trouble. I assumed you’d want to know.”

  Mark took another bite of chocolate. “I do want to know. Now tell me exactly,” he said, “how it is you and Cleo ended up living here in my mother’s house.”

  “Your mom wanted a honeymoon. She asked Cleo to watch the dogs.”

  Mark laughed softly, shaking his head. “Of course. And you’re here because…?”

  “My uncle has a new dog, a really big one, and he’s sensitive…” Sly realized how absurd that must sound. “Look, I couldn’t let her face you and your family by herself. Liam’s right next door. I know how he can be.”

  “That’s true. He’d jump to conclusions, lose his temper. He’s a little like our father sometimes. My mom’s said so herself.” Finishing off the chocolate, Mark looked around. “Coffee?”

  “What conclusions would he be wrong to jump to?”

  “Come on, Sly, think about it.”

  “You think it was all just a joke.”

  “She’s up to her usual games,” Mark said. “Playing Cupid.”

  “You weren’t there. Yes, at first she was bluffing about the thing with Hugo. But then she really fell for him. It was fun
ny and then it wasn’t. They were dancing and she looked up at him and there was this—” Sly made a face. “Trust me. She lost control of the situation.”

  “I sympathize, buddy. I’ve been in your shoes myself. You think she’s crazy and harmless, and then…” Mark found the coffee Sly had made and poured himself a cup. “Then you realize she’s pulling all the strings.”

  “If you’d seen her face…”

  “I know. She’s very convincing.” Mark sat down and kicked out chair for Sly. “You look like you need to sit down.”

  25

  Not sure what to believe, Sly refilled his cup. In spite of the Elvis impersonator, the wedding had felt genuine. Hugo, he knew, hadn’t been faking his love or intentions.

  Sly sank into the chair. “Whatever she’s doing, Hugo better be in on it.”

  “I’m sure he is. She’d never hurt anyone on purpose.”

  “Tell Liam, will you?” Sly asked. “And the rest of your clan? I don’t want Cleo dealing with it.”

  “Why tell them anything? Liam might not believe it’s fake. Better just to say Cleo’s house-sitting while our mom enjoys another week in Las Vegas.” Mark sipped his coffee. “Question is, what are you doing to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to stay here?” Mark asked.

  “Of course. There really are dogs to take care of. I promised Cleo I’d help.”

  “Lots and lots of helping,” Mark said.

  If the wedding was phony, nobody would be upset with him and Cleo for not interfering. The situation was better than he’d feared. “I’m a helpful guy,” he said, grinning.

  “You must know this was her plan all along. The two of you… you know.”

  Sly lowered his voice. “Cleo didn’t have a plan. It was almost impossible to get her into bed.”

  Mark choked on another bite of chocolate. “I meant my mother. Having you and Cleo living together.”

  “Oh.” Cleo had always claimed that people thought she must be in love with him but was too afraid—or sensible—to admit it. Those people were going to have a lot of ammunition now that they were sleeping together. It was going to annoy her.

  He took a deep breath. Had he ever seriously considered the price of finally having sex with her?

  “I bet she’d been hoping for more,” Mark continued, “when she got you to a quickie wedding chapel yesterday. But you didn’t bite, so she had to initiate plan B.”

  Sly rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles were starting to spasm. “Bite what?”

  “Eloping yourself. You and Cleo.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all.” But Sly remembered how Cleo had taken Elvis’s card and put it in her purse.

  “I’ve been to one of those before,” Mark continued. “Friends of mine renewing their vows. Everyone wore costumes. It was really fun. Touching, even.”

  “It was Sunday morning. We were cold sober. If your mom had wanted us to get carried away, she would’ve called us the night before.” Sly lowered his voice. “Cleo and I had just—for the first… never mind.”

  “She probably knew that. I don’t know how she does, but she does. Trust me. She’s scary.” Mark leaned back in his chair. “She set up me and Rose, April, the neighbors, and God knows how many others. Maybe even Liam. She’s a force of nature.”

  “I don’t like it. People might get hurt.”

  Mark glanced at him, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “Cleo’s tough. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  In a very low voice, Sly said, “I hope so.” She’d been burned before. She couldn’t want to go through that again, not so soon.

  “It’s not so bad, you know,” Mark said. “Settling down.”

  Sly held up a warning hand.

  “Married men live longer,” Mark continued, grinning.

  “You’re as bad as your mother.”

  He shot out of his chair. “God forbid. If that’s what you think, I’m getting out of here.” He put his coffee cup in the sink and strode directly to the front door. There he turned and said in a more serious tone, “Seriously, Sly. Marrying Rose is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “You wanted a wife when you were sixteen. You’re like that. I’m not.”

  Mark frowned. “Really? You don’t ever see yourself getting married?”

  “It’s been two days.”

  “Come on, it’s been years.”

  Sly opened the door and escorted him out onto the landing. “Nice seeing you, Mark. Give my best to Rose.”

  Frown deepening, Mark shook his head. “My mother wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t see something serious happening.”

  “I need to go make some pancakes.” Sly shut the door with more force than was appropriate, afraid that he himself had lost his appetite.

  ♢ ♡ ♤

  From the upstairs bathroom window, Cleo watched Mark get into a black Tesla and drive away. As far as she could tell from her aerial view, he didn’t look upset, and she hadn’t heard any yelling, physical assault, or tears. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and went to find Sly.

  It was surreal, she thought as she walked downstairs, to think how much had changed so quickly. She was living in an unfamiliar house, where she’d shared a bed and her body with Sly, and when she walked into the kitchen, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Sly had said they were having a good time, but it wasn’t feeling quite as good as it had the day before.

  “Well?” she asked. “How’d it go?”

  “He doesn’t believe it.”

  “Did you show him the pictures?” Even Sly had taken a few shots with his phone.

  “He believes there was a ceremony, but he thinks it was all a ruse.”

  She wriggled out of his arms. “No, it was real. You saw the way they were looking at each other.”

  “That’s what I told him. But he’s still not buying it. He knows her a lot better than we do.”

  “No,” she said. “Nobody would get married just to set somebody else up. And how would that work, anyway?”

  “Either we got inspired to get hitched ourselves, or we ended up here at her house living together.”

  Uneasiness crept over her. “I don’t believe it. Hugo wouldn’t do that.”

  Eyebrows raised, Sly shrugged.

  “He wouldn’t,” she said.

  “Not for me,” he said, “but if he thought it would get him closer to Trixie…”

  “Yeah, like, married is pretty close.”

  “Exactly.”

  She tore the ponytail elastic out of her hair and dragged her fingers over her scalp. “I hate this. Have we been had?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Eating would help her think. A bowl of a promising yellowish batter sat on the counter. She pointed. “What’s that?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. Sit your sexy ass down and prepare to be amazed.” He grabbed a paper towel and wiped out a pan. “Or at least fed. I’ll have to make more coffee. Mark drank yours.”

  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Why does everyone think that? Thirtysomething guy who’s never been married—of course I can cook.”

  “I assumed you lived on pizza and bad beer. Like all confirmed bachelors.”

  “Don’t call me that. It makes me sound like a closeted Victorian. Do you want pancakes or not?”

  When they were friends, she could tease him about being perpetually single and it didn’t mean anything. But now it made her sound like she was fishing. Which stung her pride. “Of course I want pancakes. Have you learned nothing about me all these years?”

  He smiled at her over his shoulder. His jaw, she just noticed, was clean-shaven. No wonder their kiss had been so silky.

  Her body tingled. The man had more sensual appeal than a dozen tech moguls bundled together and dipped in chocolate.

  “I thought you might worry about my ability to make anything edible,” he said.

  “I figured
you could feed yourself on occasion.”

  “Or my…” He turned back to the stove. “My friends.”

  “Your girlfriends,” she said.

  The word killed all conversation for a long, tense minute. Worries that earlier she’d been able to smother with mindless lust began to surface. Were they going to date for months or a year or break up next week?

  Memories of her divorce played like an unwanted pop-up ad in her mind. Ashley’s emails apologizing for giving in to love, curling up in a ball on the floor while her mother rubbed her back, signing the final papers…

  She’d refused to go through that kind of pain ever again. Yet here she was, rushing in like a fool…

  “When does Hugo’s dog get here?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. I’ll call after breakfast.”

  A few minutes later, he set two plates of pancakes on the table, a bottle of syrup, the butter dish, and a cup of coffee. “We’ll eat healthy later.”

  “No pressure.” She found silverware in a drawer and gave them each a set. “This looks great. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Hope you like it.”

  They ate in silence, staring past each other at the unfamiliar kitchen, the window overlooking the San Francisco Bay, the family photos on the walls. “Nice house,” she said.

  “I think Mark might be right.”

  “He wasn’t there. He didn’t see—”

  “But he knows her and says this would be like her. You’ve got to admit, it didn’t feel right. It was rushed.”

  “Of course it was rushed.”

  “Look, I was wondering. When you came by for that piano lesson. Maybe she got the idea then. Did you give her any reason to think you might want—I’m not saying you meant to suggest it, but given who she is, maybe she misconstrued it.”

  Her stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

  “Me. Us.” He looked down at his plate. “I’m sure you didn’t say you were hoping we’d fall into bed together or anything, but maybe you said something complimentary and—”

  “Complimentary about you? Like, by the way, Sly’s so sexy and I dream about his hot body every night?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “OK, so you didn’t say anything like that.”