by Witt, L. A.
“Shane, what’s—”
“I can’t do this.” He swallowed hard as he met my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t even stop him. I wouldn’t have forced him to stay, of course, but I didn’t have the breath to try to talk him out of leaving. About the best I could do was pull on a pair of shorts so I could follow him to the door and lock it behind him.
We didn’t speak at all. I unlocked the front door, and after he’d gone, I shut it behind him and leaned back against it. Holding my breath, I listened to him walking down the path to the driveway. Getting in his car. Starting the engine. Leaving. Fading into the night.
Eyes closed, I exhaled and let my head fall back against the door. Well wasn’t this an unexpected punch in the dick?
I didn’t know what I felt for him because I’d never felt this way before. Yeah, I’d been in love. Crazy in love a couple of times. But I hadn’t banked on it happening again, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted it to. Definitely not right off the bat.
This wasn’t right off the bat anymore, though, and the feelings were there whether or not I’d invited them in. And whether or not it made sense for me to feel this way. My motto forever had been that monogamy was for penguins. Now it was suddenly for me? What the fuck? In the beginning, all I’d wanted was something casual while he’d immediately thrown down the card that he wanted more. Or, at least, he wanted more to remain an option. And then when it became more for me . . . this?
Another thought settled into my head and made my stomach twist. With a weird, achy feeling in my chest, I suddenly knew what question would keep me up for the rest of the night:
Was I suddenly not someone he wanted like he had in the beginning?
Chapter 23
Shane
Parenting was full of tough things, and I’d learned early on that one of the toughest was how to swallow my own feelings and put on a happy face for my kids. I’d failed miserably when Desiree’s mom had left, but I’d smiled as much as I could through my divorces. Let the kids grieve and be sad, but make them believe I wasn’t dying on the inside. No one understood crying themselves to sleep at night and trying to be quiet about it like a newly single parent. Pretending I wasn’t depressed and lonely took more energy than I had, but I made myself do it anyway.
The kids knew, though. Maybe not the details, but they knew something was up.
The night Aaron and I split up, I’d come home late. The next night, when I’d come home from work, Desiree had been studying at the kitchen table. She’d eyed me when I came through the door, but she didn’t say a word. The following morning, when I could barely concentrate on getting everyone fed and off to school, there was none of the usual bickering and squabbling. Of course, then I felt guilty as fuck and made sure to put on an everything’s okay face when I got home that night. Over my dead body would my kids walk on eggshells because of my shit.
At least when the weekend rolled around, Michael and Des had their skateboarding competition to hold their focus. All I had to do was numbly drive them to the venue. Cheering them on would take some energy, but even when everything was dark and shitty, I could always find a reserve of enthusiasm to encourage my kids.
The competition was in Tacoma, which was an hour or so south of Seattle. Fortunately, we didn’t have to drive through Seattle to get there—I opted to skip the ferries and take the Tacoma Narrows Bridge instead. Maybe a slightly longer drive, and the kids were disappointed they didn’t get to take the ferry, but hopefully they’d indulge me this one time.
When we arrived at the venue, there were families everywhere, which was painful. From the moment I’d found myself a single dad for the first time, I’d always been acutely aware of two-parent families. Aware of them and envious as hell. Why couldn’t I get that right when everyone else could?
But Aaron could barely stomach the idea of being a boyfriend until recently. Even if he’d changed his mind and wanted me that way now, did he fit into this kind of picture?
I glanced at my kids.
Does he want to?
He was a thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie who’d only just warmed up to the idea of a relationship. That wasn’t someone who was eager to sign up to be a stepparent, and my kids deserved better than what a relationship with Aaron had to offer. That meant he and I had been incompatible from the start, and damn him for wanting to push this into territory where it didn’t belong.
And stupid me for suggesting the same fucking thing in the beginning.
I tried like hell to ignore the heavy depressed feeling in my gut. Today was about the kids skateboarding, not me moping. Maybe tonight I’d log in to Grindr again. And make an account on Tinder while I was at it. I hadn’t been with a woman in a while. Why the hell not?
Tonight. For today . . . skateboarding.
Christian and I took our seats while Michael and Desiree went to talk to Brennan. Brennan, who was, of course, there with his husband and stepson. Just seeing the three of them together killed me. Brennan was as devoted to the boy as Leo was to my kids, and I swore his eyes lit up every time he so much as glanced at his husband. Not that I could blame him—Zafir was gorgeous—but I envied both of them.
Why can’t I find that?
My heart sank.
I think I did.
And then I said no.
Except . . . no. Aaron wasn’t the man I needed or the man my family needed, and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to try to pigeonhole him into something he obviously didn’t want. He was a perma-bachelor and a thrill junkie. Settling down didn’t appeal to him.
And yet he’d all but said he wanted to settle down now. He wasn’t the one who’d balked this time. I was.
Why, Shane? So you could be a wild perma-bachelor? In between signing permission slips and helping with homework?
Sitting there in the bleachers, watching my kids get ready for their first-ever skating competition, I honestly couldn’t decide if I’d done the right thing. What if Aaron was just the right amount of wild to keep things interesting, and I was just the right amount of grounded for us to make this work?
It didn’t matter.
I’d made my decision, and he was gone. It was done.
So I pushed all those thoughts away and concentrated on watching my kids skate.
* * *
Turned out Brennan was right on the money about the kids being ready for this. Their first time competing, Desiree made it into the semifinals of her division, and Michael placed sixth in his. After a celebratory dinner with Brennan and Zafir, followed by a visit to the bookstore since Christian had patiently sat through his siblings’ competition, it was time to head home.
By the time we got home that night, it was too late to even think about looking at a hookup app. I had to wake both boys up when I pulled in the driveway, and Desiree was dragging her feet too. Within twenty minutes of walking in the door, they were all in bed, and I wasn’t far behind. Sheer exhaustion knocked me out.
When I woke up the next morning, though, all those nagging thoughts and that stupid cloud of depression were back in full force. I ping-ponged between regretting our split and being resigned to it. What else could I have done?
If there was one thing I was absolutely sure about, though, it was that I wasn’t waiting another goddamned year before getting back in the saddle. One night with Aaron had cooled any lingering sting from my divorce, and hopping between the sheets with someone else—male, female, didn’t matter—would remind me that good sex existed after Aaron. It existed without him. He was a tough act to follow, but that didn’t mean he was an act that couldn’t be followed. After all, I’d been convinced no one would ever rival my ex-wife in the bedroom. Leo certainly had, and Aaron had been even better. No reason to believe there weren’t people out there who could fuck him right out of my mind.
And sitting at home moping won’t get me any closer to finding those people.
So, early in the afternoon, I texted Leo. Do you mind taking the kids tonight?
Leo was free for the evening, and once he’d confirmed when he’d be there to get the kids, I made some plans of my own. And then second-guessed them. And then decided, yes, I was absolutely going through with them. Even though I was nervous as fuck. Okay, scared shitless. And . . . God, what am I doing?
Exactly what you were supposed to be doing with Aaron before he changed the rules.
Leo came by around seven to get the kids. One look at me, and he raised his eyebrows. “You doing okay, Shane?”
I swallowed, refusing to look into his eyes. “Uh . . .”
“We both know you’re not.” He lowered his voice. “What’s going on?”
“I just need a night out.” I struggled to hold his gaze, hoping he couldn’t see through to exactly what I had planned. “Need to . . .” Get laid until I forget the man I dumped. “Get my head together, I guess.”
His lips pulled tight. Knowing Leo, he saw right through me. I might as well have had just broke up written across my forehead.
But I lied anyway. “I’m fine, okay?”
His expression said he absolutely didn’t buy it, and he was weighing whether or not to push the issue. He was not a difficult man to read, especially after half a decade together, and I supposed I wasn’t either.
“I’m fine,” I said, hoping he caught the please let this go tone.
Leo chewed his lip but finally nodded. “All right. Well, have a good time.”
I exhaled. “I will. Thanks.”
“Take it easy, all right?” His brow pinched. “You don’t need—”
“I know.” I set my jaw and looked him in the eye. “I’m good. I can take care of myself.”
He held my gaze, and my neck prickled as I realized how closely this echoed some of our fights.
“Would you just talk to me and tell me what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong right now is you digging at me when I obviously don’t want to discuss it.”
“Jesus Christ, Shane. Ignoring whatever’s on your mind isn’t going to resolve it.”
Over and over, around and around. How he’d put up with it as long as he had, I’d probably never know.
But we were divorced now. If I wanted to stubbornly burrow into my own head and go out for a night of anonymous sex instead of wondering why I’d left Aaron and why the hell it hurt so bad to leave someone I didn’t even want a relationship with . . . that was my business.
Leo sighed. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. But really . . . I’ll be fine.”
Back when we were married, he’d have asked who I was trying to convince—him or myself.
Tonight, he didn’t ask, and I was glad.
Because I didn’t know the answer.
* * *
We’re on our way—ran a little late.
The text made my heart race. No backing out now.
Sitting in a booth at Friends & Neighbors, I tried not to think about the last time I’d been here. About who I’d been with. Who had introduced me to the website I’d spent half the afternoon browsing. The website where I’d met Simon and Lydia.
Simon and Lydia—the married couple who liked the occasional threesome. With a bisexual man. Like me.
And if we all played our cards right, that was where this evening was going. Just had to actually meet them first and make sure we were all into each other. Then it was game on.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Aaron had been right—these swinger meet and greets were bizarrely businesslike. I’d messaged back and forth with both Simon and Lydia today, flirting kind of awkwardly—she was definitely more confident than he was—and making sure there were no deal-breakers. No, I didn’t smoke. No, they didn’t either. Yes, Simon liked anal. No, I didn’t have a preference for top or bottom. Yes, everyone would absolutely go down on anyone. Yes, condoms were a must.
With all that out of the way, it was onto the next step—the meet and greet. Just like Aaron had said.
Aaron, who wasn’t here.
God. Come on. I took a deep swallow from my glass. Coke tonight. I didn’t need alcohol fucking up my already frazzled brain, but at least the drink was cold. It’s over with Aaron. He wanted it to be a thing. Let it go.
I was sure going to miss the things we did in bed, though. He’d be a tough act to follow.
So, Simon and Lydia. Can you make me forget about him for a little while?
I’d find out soon enough—they’d just walked in. We’d exchanged photos, so I knew who they were the instant I saw them. Their photos weren’t false advertising, either—they were definitely an attractive couple. Simon was an inch or so shorter than me—though as slender as he was, he actually looked taller—and Lydia was a good two inches shorter than that. He had the most stunning blue eyes, and I could already see myself running my fingers through that dark-brown hair.
Long black hair tumbled over Lydia’s shoulders, and she made form-fitting jeans and an artsy Wolf’s Landing T-shirt look sexy as hell.
Yeah, I could see this working.
After we’d made introductions, we sat down at the booth. They ordered drinks, and . . . oh God. Small talk.
I drummed my fingers next to my glass. “So, um.” I glanced at her T-shirt. “You’re a Wolf’s Landing fan?”
Her face lit up. “Oh, God yes. Actually we”—she gestured at Simon—“run a comic book shop in town that has a lot of Wolf’s Landing gear. I still get a little starstruck when people from the actual show come in.”
Simon laughed. He put an arm around her shoulders and tenderly played with her hair. “We both do.”
“Is that right?” I grinned. “So if I told you I work there . . .?”
They both stared.
“I’m a grip,” I said.
“Wow.” Lydia smiled broadly and leaned forward. “You’ve got to tell us some stories from the set.”
Well, at least that gave us a way to break the ice. I regaled them with some of the trials and tribulations of being a Wolf’s Landing grip, not to mention some of the stunt failures I’d witnessed.
“You’ve probably seen the outtake videos online,” I said with a laugh, “but they’ve got nothing on the shit that doesn’t get leaked.”
“Oh my God, that sounds amazing.” Lydia paused to sip her drink. “I would love to be a fly on the wall there for a day.”
“I’d say there’s never a dull moment, but that would definitely be a lie.”
Simon chuckled. “I think that’s how it goes with any business. You wouldn’t believe how much paperwork is involved in selling comics and shit.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
The conversation fell into a lull, as they often did. The silence wasn’t awkward, per se, but I sure was—I was much too nervous and restless to cope with a long pause.
“So, um.” I cleared my throat. “You guys are . . . swingers?”
They exchanged glances.
“We have been off and on,” Simon said. “Sometimes we’re so busy with the shop, we don’t really have time, but we’ve been doing it for a few years.”
Lydia looked me right in the eye. “What about you? Your profile said you’re new to the lifestyle.” She paused. “How new?”
“Uh. Well.” I shifted nervously. They were incredibly nice people, but the scrutiny was unnerving anyway. Was this really supposed to lead to sex? Especially crazy-hot three-way sex? Because, so far, nothing about it felt remotely sexy.
And they were still waiting for me to answer Lydia’s question.
I cleared my throat again. “I found the site this morning. I’ve read about the lifestyle and I know a few people who’ve been involved, but this is my first time actually getting my toes wet.”
“Oh.” She sounded interested, if slightly
guarded. Like her internal newbie alarm was going off.
Simon studied me. “This isn’t your first time with a man or with a woman though, is it?”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I’ve actually been married to one of each in the past.”
“Ah.” Lydia smiled. “So you’re new to the lifestyle, but not exactly a virgin.”
I laughed, despite the way it hurt to suddenly think of all the insane sex I’d been having recently. “No. Not . . . not a virgin.” I went for my drink again. “Do you actually run into a lot of virgins?”
“All the time,” she said. “I can’t count the number of men and women we’ve met who recently figured out they’re bi, and they want to do a little exploring. And, I mean, I’m okay with that and all. I just want to know upfront.”
Simon nodded. “Me too. Nothing quite like getting into bed with a guy and having him panic because he’s never been near another naked man.”
I managed another laugh, but it was a struggle. The conversation was taking a surreal turn. Something about the way he’d said that drove it home that the goal for tonight was the three of us in bed. Naked. Fucking. But . . . how exactly did we get there from here? Because, so far, it was so . . .
The word Aaron used echoed in my mind once again: businesslike. Yep, that was it. Which explained why I couldn’t get into it. Simon and Lydia were both ridiculously attractive, and maybe in another context—without the feel of a job interview—this would work.
I sighed. “Listen, um . . . I’m not sure this is going to work.”
Simon’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.
“Oh.” Lydia tilted her head, more curiosity than hurt in her eyes. “Is there something wrong, or . . .?”
“Not with you guys. I’m . . .” I scrabbled for the right explanation. “I’m coming off a breakup. And I don’t think I’m in the right place for this.”
“Oh,” they both said, and Simon seemed to come down from the what did I do? in his posture.
