by Kylie Scott
“Hey,” I say. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I was sleeping with her, Anna. Of course I should have known.”
“Because you’re a trained psychologist with years of experience sufficient to recognize a psychopath, right?” I give his fingers a squeeze. “Leif, people like that are genius at manipulating and hiding who they are. What they are. They have to be to survive.”
He slips his hand out from beneath mine, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“Does Clem blame you?” I ask.
“She’s way too nice for that.”
“How about your brother?”
“No.”
“Just you then.”
“Yes.” His tone is hard. But at least he’s looking at me again.
“I’m so angry that she used you and hurt you.”
He grunts dismissively. As if his pain meant nothing.
“Sounds like we’ve both been screwed over,” I say. “So let’s both be sensible, rational adults and keep the blame where it belongs, on the people who did the wrong damn thing. Because anything else is pure lunacy.”
His lips flatline in displeasure.
I take another sip of the Bloody Mary. “Oh God, this is like gazpacho gone wrong.”
Leif gives me a look.
“If you’re waiting for me to feed into your I’m-the-worst diatribe then you’ll be waiting a long time.”
Nothing from him.
“Is that why you tend to hang out on your own these days?” I ask. “Worried about what people will think?”
He shrugs.
It’s strange. He seems like such an outgoing, friendly guy. The last person you’d expect to hide away from the world.
I carefully pick up the lobster roll and take a bite. Oh my, God. Perfection. It totally makes up for the bizarre drink and over-the-top presentation.
“You know, you look all sweet and polite, but you’re actually kind of a hard-ass,” he says at last.
I wipe my mouth on the napkin before speaking. “I care about my friends. That’s all.”
“What was your friend’s name?”
“The one who slept with my soon-to-be ex-husband?”
“Yeah. That one.”
“Celine.”
He nods. “Celine was a moron.”
My smile is slow to come, but genuine. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I miss having a person who’s all mine.”
Leif frowns in thought. “I miss holding hands.”
I offer my hand and he takes it in his freakishly large one. His grip is warm and comforting. This is nice. Maybe I’m more of a touchy-feely person than I suspected.
“Thanks,” he says.
“You’re welcome.”
We’re sitting on his brand-new sofa. It’s black linen and fits four people in an upright fashion, or two drunk people lounging and staring at nothing in general. The streetlights are on outside, night having long since fallen. Our late lunch turned into a day drinking session which morphed into evening cocktails at another local bar, followed by a visit to his condo to see his new, and only, piece of furniture.
We left the bar because I got a headache and a bit dizzy. It seems a lot of light and noise sort of does my head in after a while. Though maybe the cocktails played a role too. But sitting in his cool and quiet condo with some candles burning is just my thing.
“I miss the little everyday I love yous,” I say.
He nods. “I miss having someone to trash-talk with. Someone safe that you can just say anything to. Really let loose and get stuff off your chest, you know?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I keep forgetting everything that went down and for half a second I’ll think, I should text Ryan. Or I should call Celine. Then I remember and it sucks.”
His fingers tighten around mine and he makes a sympathetic noise in his throat. “Your turn.”
“That wasn’t a turn?”
“No. That was prolonged introspection on a point I’d already raised.”
“Right.” I try to think deep thoughts. It doesn’t really work. “I miss having someone who can pick things up for me on their way home from work.”
Leif rolls his head my way to give me a look of disbelief. For a big, brawny guy, he has the longest, darkest eyelashes. They almost put him on the edge of being pretty. Looking at him close up like this is distracting as all hell. No wonder my brain is having issues. If it wasn’t pickled care of the blood alcohol percentage, his presence would be enough to distract me. The sheer thrill of having his attention, of being the sole subject of his focus. And now I was gushing like a schoolgirl.
“That’s awful, Anna. Go again.”
I groan. “God. No. I just mean . . . having someone to pick up the slack and help out, you know? Someone who’s got your back. Like you’re in a team. I miss having someone I can spoil and do things for too.”
“Oh. Okay. Fair enough.”
“It’s your turn,” I say. Lord knows how we even got onto this topic. What started this relationship grumble festival.
“I miss having someone I can trust.”
“Agreed. I miss having someone to wake up to.”
“I’m not a morning person so I’ll pass on that one,” he says. “No one should have to put up with me before that second cup of coffee. But I miss having someone to share meals with.”
I nod. “And to have showers with. There’s something so nice and intimate about that.”
“I like baths.”
“Baths are good.”
“With like a nice-smelling oil or bubbles.”
“Oh yeah.” In fact, it sounds amazing. I’d invite him to have one with me, but that would probably be weird. “Definitely,” I add.
He sighs. “I miss having someone to talk to last thing at night, in bed. Just to unpack the day, and life in general.”
“You’re not even sleeping with anyone?” I ask, beyond curious. Alcohol is so great at ridding you of pesky inhibitions. Just ask the half-empty bottle of scotch sitting on the floor, or the tabs from the bars we visited. Speaking of which, men and women were most definitely giving Leif come-hither glances, despite him being there with me. Can’t really blame them, the man is so pretty. He’s definitely not single from lack of options.
I may or may not have enjoyed some of the jealous glances thrown my way. My ego is running on empty these days. I’ll take my wins where I can get them.
“Define ‘sleeping with,’” he says.
“Sex.”
“Ah.” His spare hand taps out a beat against his flat stomach. “I had a fuck buddy, but she moved away for work just before the accident.”
“That’s a long time to go without.”
“For both of us.”
“Hmm,” I say. “I miss having someone who already knows what I like in bed. No need for weird or embarrassing conversations.”
“Though the exploration process has its positives.”
“I guess so. But in that case, why haven’t you found someone new?”
“My fuck buddy was great. A good friend. I never met anyone who had an unkind word to say about her,” he says. “But anytime she stayed the night, I wouldn’t sleep. Couldn’t.”
“You didn’t trust her enough to be asleep beside her?”
“I’d chosen wrong once. What if I choose wrong again?”
“No. Leif. You’re not going to choose wrong.” I sit up, clasping his hand in both of mine. My head might be spinning, but I am feeling all the things. My sincerity levels have got to be amped to eleven. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re a really great guy and you deserve to have someone special in your life if that’s what you want.”
He smiles. “Thanks.”
“Or a new sex friend if that’s your choice.”
“Thank you again. Your belief in me is appreciated and I’ll give it some thought.”
“You’re welcome.” Which gives me an idea. A really amazingly great one, actua
lly. Quite possibly the best idea I’ve had in forever. Or at least today. Why it’ll fix both of our problems. Neither of us needs to be lonely or be feeling generally shitty. And the whole thing about us meeting due to the accident is important. Even Leif with his fears and neurosis about choosing wrong again has to know that I’m not out to infiltrate his life for whatever dastardly reason. As far as he’s concerned, I must be safe.
This will totally work.
And I can’t help but stare. His bottom lip is slightly larger than his top one, making for an intriguing and potentially delicious dichotomy. A pillow-like mystery I am determined to resolve. And I bet he tastes amazing. He looks like he’d taste divine. Honest to God, I’m like a child with her nose pressed against the window of a candy store, salivating over the man.
“What are you thinking?” he asks with a quizzical amused smile. It’s straight up bordering on flirty. I just know it.
Premarital eye contact. How outrageous.
The time has come to show don’t tell. Besides, how would I find the words to express this genius idea? Without another thought, I lean into him and press my lips to his, hard and insistent. Adoration and horniness are the names of the game.
“Anna,” he mumbles, mouth moving against mine in totally the wrong way. His breath is warm on my face and scotch scented. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” I mumble too. “We could both use a special sexual someone, right? Doesn’t this solve both of our problems?”
Ever so gently, he pushes me back. “Not a good idea.”
“No?”
“I think we’re better as friends.”
Oh, my God. Humiliation is mine, total and complete. “Okay.”
“It’s just that . . . you’re going through a lot right now and I think adding me to the mix would be a mistake.”
“Sure. That makes sense.”
His eyes are wide with panic. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not going to cry.” I sniff. “I’m just a bit embarrassed and quite possibly drunk.”
He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “You’re a very attractive woman, really.”
“Great. Thanks. Let’s just . . . I . . .” I trail off, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or saying. That’s the truth. What a disaster.
“Shit,” he says. “This isn’t working. Time to hug it out.”
And before I know what’s happening, I’m dragged onto his lap and caught up in a tight hold. Arms around me, Leif’s face pressing into my neck, the whole thing. I’m not sure who’s comforting whom here. He’s arranged me to his liking and the feeling of intimacy is nice. Confusing, but nice. I haven’t had anything like it in so long. The feeling of being safe and wanted and accepted. Even if he neither wants nor accepts me. Like I said, this is confusing.
“It’s fine.” A complete lie according to the tears flooding my face. The urge to run from this once more foreign and somewhat wild situation hits me in the gut. “Just a bit embarrassing. But yeah . . . I’m fine. I should probably go.”
His hold tightens. “No.”
“But—”
“You need to stop running away every time something weird happens,” he says, voice muffled, but stern. “It’s interfering with our friendship.”
A hand rubs circles on my back as if I were a child. It’s quite soothing. This man might just make a cuddler out of me because this is good. Damn good.
“My mouth made bad choices,” I sob.
“Shit happens, Anna. You just gotta let it go.”
I hiccup. “O-okay.”
“Deep even breaths, that’s it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “You’ve been through a lot lately. Get it out. All of the tears and stress and everything.”
I sniffle. “Can I have some Kleenex, please?”
“Um. I only have toilet paper. Sorry.”
“There’s some in my purse.”
“Got it,” he says, depositing me back on the sofa. Then my purse is lifted off the floor and placed in my lap. Apparently Leif is a full-service-meltdown type of friend. Which is nice. I need all of the support I can get. It’s nice not to cry on my own for once.
The blowing of my nose sounds like the brass section of an orchestra. But there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m a soggy mess of a woman sitting on his new couch.
“It’s a really nice couch,” I say.
His smile is small but sweet. “You know, I bought it for you. On the off chance you ever came around again.”
“Thank you. I’m so sorry I kissed you. That was a horrible, terrible mistake.”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I didn’t mean to . . . it was just, you were there and . . .”
“No problem,” he says with a trademark careless grin. “I like to think we’re getting all of our formative moments out of the way early. The accident, nearly getting into a fistfight with the soon-to-be ex-husband on the front lawn, you macking on me . . .”
The shame of it all. “Oh, God.”
He continues to rub my back. So comforting. Right up until he opens his mouth and says, “If you want to proposition me again in a couple of months then we can revisit the topic if you’re still interested.”
And now he’s definitely just being kind and trying to salve my pride. Thank goodness I stopped crying, at least. “It never happened and we are never discussing it again.”
“Well, that’s sad.”
I snort. This is the most embarrassing situation. And forgetting all of my lines in the grade-four play in front of the whole damn school wasn’t great. But this foolhardy performance in front of just one person is somehow far and away worse.
“Do you need more hugging?” he offers.
“No, thank you. I’m think I’m okay now.
“You know, you have an impressive amount of shit in that purse,” he says, peeking into the bag on my lap.
“It’s just my everyday stuff.”
“Huh.” He sticks his nose in a little further. “You won’t believe this, but I’ve actually been known to leave the house without a single tube of lip balm.”
“Shocking.”
“It’s real living-on-the-edge-type stuff, isn’t it?” he asks with that amused twinkle in his eye. “Sometimes I don’t even have a USB flash drive on me either.”
“I used to use it for work.”
“And the little notepad?”
“It’s not a notepad, its blotting paper for when your face gets shiny.”
“Right. That makes sense. What about the . . . is that a stain eraser pen? Holy shit, it is.” His hand rifles through the contents, making itself at home. “What kind of careless bastard am I to attempt life without one of those babies on my person at all times?”
“A stained one.”
He snorts. “Feel better?”
“I don’t know.” Only I must. Because when he smiles at me, I can’t help but smile back. The man is magic.
“There we go,” he says softly. Once again, Leif has made everything better. He is a great friend, loyal, kind, and true. I can only aspire to be as sweet as he is.
That my lips are still tingling doesn’t matter at all. “Let’s give being friends another go. I’ll try not to mess it up by running away, starting a fight, or throwing myself at you this time.”
He grins. “Promises, promises.”
“You kissed your new male friend?”
“Yes. But it was an accident,” I explain into my cell. “I was drunk and stupid.”
“You were drunk?” Briar’s voice rises about an octave. “You.”
“I can let my hair down occasionally and enjoy myself.”
“No you can’t. That stick up your ass won’t permit it. Or it hasn’t up until now. Maybe the accident dislodged it.”
“That’s harsh,” I grumble.
“It’s the truth.”
“Be nice to me, my life is spiraling.”
She just laughs. I love the sound of her laughter. It’s so joyous and never fails to make me smile.
“At any rate,” I say. “I didn’t mean to be attracted to him, so sublimating these unwanted feelings with friendship should be easy.”
“Sure. Okay.”
“It’s not like I don’t have enough other issues to deal with.”
“Yep. Best of luck with that,” she says. “You need to come to New York so we can visit some jazz clubs and I can experience Anna 2.0 in action.”
“In case you missed it, Anna 2.0’s maiden voyage didn’t go so well and she’s been shelved indefinitely, put in cold storage, and hidden away in a corner of the attic.” I wrinkle my nose. “Also, I don’t understand jazz.”
“You don’t need to understand it. You just need to be open to it speaking to you.”
“That makes sense, I guess.”
“You made out with someone who doesn’t wear a suit to work. Amazing.”
“Is it really, though?”
“Yes,” she says, tone adamant. “This is quite the kick against your programming.”
Ryan hasn’t come near me since the flowers incident. No texts or calls since the divorce papers were served. I almost miss his visits, having someone different to talk to, hearing about their everyday ordinary life. Almost, but not quite. Which just goes to show how sad my life can be. Though I definitely don’t miss being reminded of his betrayal. I haven’t lost my mind entirely.
I sigh. “Thank you for the divorce attorney reference. Margarita has been amazing. With no children and us both agreeing to a fifty/fifty split it should be relatively straightforward. Fingers crossed and knock on wood.”
“He’s accepted the inevitable, then?”
“So it would seem.”
“Good.”
“He’s wants to keep the house.”
“It’s in a good school district. That might suddenly be important due to Celine expecting.”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s made peace with the inevitable. That’s a good thing.”
“Pretty sure after the scene at my birthday party I’ve been relegated in his mind to being that crazy bitch who he’s better off without,” I say, doing my best not to grit my teeth. “I can’t help but wonder if that was in his head all along. To drive me so fucking insane that I look like the one in the wrong. He can pat himself on the back and walk away, thinking he’s rid of me.”
