She was entitled to an opinion. She was even entitled to voice her opinion. But she had no right to decide my relationship with Tiel was toxic when it was probably the healthiest thing I'd ever done.
"I get that you're busy being pissed right now," Riley said. "But it would be good to know what you're looking for this afternoon, otherwise I don't know what to show you."
"She's just happier when I'm a fucked-up mess, isn't she?" I said. We were parked outside the Bay Village remodel I'd handed off to Riley, but I wasn't ready to get out yet. "She doesn't actually want to fix problems, she just wants to make herself feel important."
"I'm going out on a limb and saying that's an exaggeration."
I glared at him. "Do you think I have a toxic relationship and require psychiatric intervention?"
He rolled his eyes and tucked his notebook back into his bag. "There's nothing wrong with getting help. It's not a sign of weakness, you testy little bitch." He shook his head, his fingers running through his hair. It was getting long, but he managed a decent man-bun. "Tiel's a cool cat. It'll all blow over." He jerked his thumb to the house. "Can we go inside now?"
"Why are you in such a fucking hurry?" I asked as I grabbed my coat and materials.
"I've been working on intercepting your dear friend Magnolia, and we're going to the Bruins game tonight," he said, bouncing on the sidewalk. "Did you know she's a triplet?"
I didn't have the patience for this conversation. Digging my phone from my pocket, my annoyance skyrocketed when I saw a text from Shannon.
Shannon: Please consider it. I'm worried about you.
"Yeah," I said, glaring at my screen. "Two brothers."
"I know," he groaned. "It would have been interesting if they were chicks, but at least she has some season tickets to exploit."
"You do that," I murmured, typing out a response.
Sam: Take your own advice.
Sam: And by the way – thanks for all your unconditional support.
18
Sam
When Tiel opened the door, the internal debate started.
"You're wearing that to piss me off," I growled. That 1950s-style cocktail dress put those tits on display and I couldn't decide whether I could handle anyone else's appreciative eyes on her. I knew it was immature and territorial, but those reactions were instinctual, and I struggled to manage them.
"What is your problem now?" She glanced down at her black dress and pink flats, and fuck, she was stunning. Not many women could wear that dress without looking overly stylized, or as if they were headed to a costume party, but Tiel made it work.
Taking her into my arms, I kissed my way from her ear to the valley between her breasts. "My problem," I murmured, "is that you are going to give all these old preservation guys massive boners. There are going to be fatal heart attacks left and right. That's just negligent, Tiel."
Laughing, she yanked me up. "Seems like a good way to go."
"Good? Fucking fantastic. I'd like to die thinking about your tits, and my version of heaven is living between them." My hands skimmed up her sides and down her back. I knew I needed to attend the Preservation Society of Greater Boston's holiday party and say nice things to boring people, but I was more interested in burying myself in her until Monday morning. "What are you wearing under this?"
"You can find out later," she said. "We're already late."
"We're not missing anything," I murmured.
Dropping to my knees, I burrowed under the poufy layers of her dress while she giggled and shrieked. This was what I craved about Tiel—her playfulness, her desire to find joy in every moment of life, her willingness to get rid of anything that didn't make her happy—and so much more.
"I will be ripping these off at some point tonight," I said from under her skirts. It was too tempting to stay there, my finger sliding over her silky panties and feeling her heat up close. I pressed my lips to her mound, basking in her scent, and left a trail of bites and kisses down her thigh. I leaned back and smiled up at her, pleased with the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the blush riding her cheeks. "You wore those because you knew I'd want to tear them off."
"Yeah," she nodded. "That might have entered my thought process."
"Oh, that's my perv," I said, enveloping her in a hug. "You are so fucking gorgeous."
On the ride to the downtown venue, Tiel recounted her conversation with her best friend, Ellie, about a mishap on tour. She was so animated and free, and I hoped to hell she didn't lose it all when we arrived at the event. I hadn't mentioned that Matt and Patrick would be there, or that they'd be bringing Andy and Lauren, and it was a risky gamble. It could backfire horribly, or she'd get out of her own head long enough to show them the person I adored.
The silver lining in all of this was Shannon drawing the short straw and getting stuck at a different event across town with Riley. In the two weeks since she'd barged into my office, I hadn't discussed anything more than business with Shannon. To her credit, she hadn't revisited her comments or found backhanded ways to renew her argument.
Tiel inclined her head toward me when we entered the historic home. "You know, when we're together, we're way cooler than everyone else."
Chuckling, I said, "I'd like to think so."
Her full skirt didn't let me rest my hand on her ass the way I wanted to, but it gave me the opportunity to wrap my arm around her waist and hold her close. We mingled for two hours, and it soon became obvious that everyone was more interested in chatting with Tiel than me. Despite her issues with my family, she nailed the small talk, and my colleagues couldn't get enough of her.
She was the right balance of art for the purists, quirk for the wonks, and kind, babbling charm for the introverts. She possessed a natural quality that put people at ease and drew them out, and I knew that was what she was doing with me, too.
"You make this painless for me," I whispered to her when the conversation in our circle moved away from us.
"When you get started on hydronic heating and those roof gardens, you're unstoppable," she laughed.
Pulling her away from the crowd, I folded her into my arms and kissed her forehead. "How do you feel about Arizona?"
"Dry heat. Grand Canyon. Cactus. I haven't spent much time formulating opinions," she said, smirking. "Should I?"
"I'm going to tell you what I'm thinking right now, and I don't want you to freak on me. Okay?"
Her eyes scanned the room. "If you're thinking about ripping off my skivvies, you're going to need somewhere more private."
"I want you to come to Arizona with me next month," I said. If I acknowledged that comment about her panties, I'd also want to touch them. It snowballed from there. "There's a sustainable design conference in Scottsdale, and I'm presenting on something. Think about it—warm weather, nice resort, alone time. I want alone time with you."
She started to respond, but more people approached us. Everyone was fired up about a waiver approved by the area zoning commission for a high-rise mega-development. That shit was my bread and butter, and no one enjoyed a good 'Boston likes paving over its history' circle jerk more than I did, but I was struggling to care.
Turning my head toward Tiel, I whispered, "Arizona?"
She brought her drink to her lips, an attempt to hide her smile from the broader conversation. "That's who we are now? The people who take fancy winter vacations?"
I tightened my grip on her waist, nodding, and pretended to listen to the discussion about filing injunctions against the development. "Those are good people to be," I mouthed.
"You're spoiling me," she said.
"Just wait until we get to Arizona," I said under my breath.
After the director of the Back Bay Preservation Commission stepped away and the debate dissolved, I spotted Matt and Lauren at the bar. Tiel followed my gaze, sucking in a breath the moment she recognized them. "You didn't mention anything about that," she murmured.
Turning her closer to me, I said, "She's really nice.
She might be one of the nicest people I've ever met." Tiel gave me one of those wiggle-shake-shrugs that were more amusing to observe than interpret. "Trust me on this. She is dying to come over here and apologize, and I'm willing to bet she'll make you do some tequila shots with her."
"She doesn't have to apologize," Tiel murmured. "I was kind of demonic."
"Lauren loves everyone. Everyone." I nodded toward the bar, hoping she'd take the step on her own, but she didn't move. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I said, "Hurry up. My pocket feels empty without your panties and my hand is actually itching to slap your ass."
On a squeal, she marched to the bar while Matt headed in my direction.
We watched, side by side, as they talked. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I needed my family to accept Tiel the same way they accepted Lauren and Andy. I'd managed their disdain with my hook-ups for years, and ultimately, it didn't matter what they thought about those women because I didn't remember them long enough to form opinions.
But Tiel was different. She never lived in the hook-up category. If I was being painfully honest, I didn't know where I'd slot Tiel—girlfriend? Lover? The keeper of my existence?—but I knew I needed my siblings with me on this one. It wasn't about approval so much as it was their willingness to accept my choices without hesitation. We argued and bickered, and sometimes we held long, ugly grudges, but in the end we always had each other's backs.
Andy and Patrick came up beside me, and he nudged my shoulder. He said, "What's going on here?"
Tiel was staring at Lauren like she was describing her most recent serial murder spree, and I could tell by her quick, tight nodding that she wasn't enjoying the conversation yet.
Grabbing Andy's elbow, I pushed her toward the bar. "Go tell her cute stories about me."
"I don't have cute stories about you," Andy said, shaking off my grip. "I only have smarmy asshole stories and creative tyrant stories."
"Creative tyrant works," I said. "That shit's golden."
Andy joined them, and I could read Tiel's tension from thirty thousand feet. She was hating this, and after watching from a distance for several minutes, I knew I had to put a stop to it quickly. Just as I stepped away from Matt and Patrick, Lauren gestured toward us, rolling her eyes, and Tiel laughed. It was an honest, rolling laugh, and I saw her eyes brighten with pleasure.
"Whatever just happened over there," Patrick said, pointing with his beer bottle, "was at your expense, my friend."
"That works for me," I said. They shared more laughs, and Lauren eventually called for shots.
"Right, so now that they're best friends for life, can I take my wife home?" Matt asked. "We leave for Mexico next weekend, and I want to be with Miss Honey without worrying about her father finding me on his daughter and him making my body disappear."
"Yeah, I hate these things." Patrick downed his beer. "And Andy's dress is practically falling off. It's ready for me to finish the job."
I glared at them. "Would it kill you to keep that information to yourself? Is nothing sacred in your relationships?"
"Oh so you don't talk about fucking everything that moves anymore?" Patrick asked.
"How the mighty manwhore has fallen," Matt laughed. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it for myself."
He smacked my back and headed toward the bar, and I realized I wasn't looking for them to accept Tiel.
I wanted them to accept me.
19
Tiel
"Can I ask you something?"
Sam looked over his shoulder, watching my fingers as they traced the designs inked into his back. It was dark, but moonlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the fierce lines against his light skin. My dress from the architecture party stood in the doorway like a taffeta tumbleweed, and though I should have ripped my gaze away from his skin long enough to admire his house, I couldn't. Those tattoos screamed with meaning and emotion, and I wanted to know everything about them. About him.
Nodding, he said, "Of course."
"Here's what I don't understand about you. You're always so cute and spiffy, and it's obvious you like things to be clean and tidy, but…" I followed the knotted shape on his shoulder, dropping a kiss there. "But you're all badass with these gnarly tattoos, and you have sex in bathrooms and that's totally gross."
In a flash, I was flat on my back and pinned beneath Sam. "Don't do that, Tiel. Just don't go there. Please, let it be in the past."
"Which part?" He gave me a hard stare, clearly disinterested in this topic. "The sex or the tattoos? I'd kind of like to hear about both."
Sam dropped his head between my breasts, groaning against my skin. "Pick one."
It would have been easier to select which arm I wanted removed.
This was what drove me crazy about Sam: the unknowns. I thought we knew everything about each other, but then there was still so much to learn. I wanted him to tell me everything, put it all out there—the ugly, the awful, the painful—and I'd do the same.
There was a desperate need boiling inside me to define this, and I needed to understand his past relationships to do that, but I was terrified to hear what he'd say. I didn't want to hear about the women who came before and all the things he did with them but never seemed to want with me, but I still needed to know.
Just not tonight.
"What do these mean?" I asked, nodding toward the tattoos on his chest and shoulders.
He released my wrists and sat back, completely comfortable in his nudity. By itself, that was a win. He didn't stay covered until the last moment, and he didn't reach for the sheets the second we parted anymore. He'd even started telling me where his pump was located before I could ask. It was small, so small, but he'd let me in.
He pointed to his arm. "Obviously, this is a fishhook. I like fishing."
"How have you never mentioned this?" I asked. "Where do you fish? When? How is that something you enjoy, with all the cold, floppy fish?"
Sam leaned back, laughing. "It's nice to get out on the water, be alone. It's a good time to think." He absently dragged his fingers along my legs, leaving me wiggling and wanting more. "I've been thinking about buying a cabin in Vermont. Maybe Maine."
"Okay, wow. See? This is why we need to have these little talks," I said. "How else would I know that you're going to run off to fish in Maine one of these days?"
"I'm not running off. Shannon would come find me, and drag me back." He dropped down beside me and pulled me into his arms.
I'd heard a lot about Shannon. I'd heard about all of Sam's family, but Shannon stood out. I couldn't make sense of her level of involvement in his life.
I'd seen the sticky notes she left in his car, reminding him about appointments or calls he was due to return. I'd noticed his phone blowing up with texts from her at random hours. He'd mentioned her delivering his dry cleaning or occasionally doing his grocery shopping. He'd also shared the contentious battles they had at the office and the epic grudges she held. And one night, when we'd fallen into bed together after incredible live music and hours of dancing, he'd confided his suspicion that she was hiding something huge from him. More than anything else, he'd hated that she chose to exclude him.
It was obvious that they had a complex relationship, and on most days, his reactions to her were not positive. I didn't usually understand the velocity of his annoyance with her, but I knew I didn't like her on account of the stress she was inflicting upon him.
"Tell me about this one." I pointed to the circle beneath his collarbone.
"Divine geometry," he said.
Yeah, as if I was supposed to know what that meant.
He noticed my raised eyebrows and said, "There are patterns in everything. When you look closely, you realize it's the same shapes, repeated over and over, everywhere. When you look even closer, it's the Pythagorean theorem. Everything in nature, right down to the quantum mechanics of the universe, exists within the bounds of that theorem."
"Like octave equivalency?"
"Yup." He ran his hand down my thigh and back up, over my back. "Actually, I figured you'd have some ink. Lyrics or notes, or something special to you."
"Yeah, I don't know," I said. "It just seems so…permanent. What happens when I find a new favorite song? I can't imagine loving something enough right now to want it in thirty years."
He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze heavy and indecipherable. "Never?"
"I don't think so," I said. "Once, I thought about getting an eyebrow ring. Ellie has two and they look so good on her, but I decided against it. I didn't want to be left with a scar if I ever took it out."
"That kind of scar would be nearly invisible," he said. "Aren't most scars worth the stories associated with them?"
"Yeah," I conceded. "I don't know. Even if it was tiny, I'd always see it, and I'd regret it."
"Okay, Sunshine," he murmured. Yawning, he tucked me into his side and kissed my shoulder. "We'll talk about the rest tomorrow."
We fell asleep quickly, and though I slept soundly, early rays of sunlight had me stirring from Sam's iron grip on my waist.
Looking around, the first thing I noticed was the shortage of walls. What I'd thought of as a bedroom last night was actually wide, open space with a row of brick arches running down the center. They created the illusion of doorways, and in certain spots, Sam filled the arches with shelves or furniture.
I grabbed his discarded tank and pulled it on before fetching some sweats from my overnight bag. The house was quiet and I tiptoed from Sam's room into a cavernous kitchen, stopping to count the number of seats at the long table. Eighteen. When I looked closer, I realized it was a single slab of wood, irregular on the sides and finished to a lustrous shine to bring out the rings.
There was an area outfitted with a sectional and television, and a garage packed with tools and wood. Sam always talked about using real wood for his projects, but it was still startling to see actual branches, stumps, and segments of tree trunks lining the brick walls.
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