by Skyla Madi
“Oh, fuck, Caleb,” I sigh, my voice nothing more than a desperate, quiet plea. “Yes.”
He groans, releasing a guttural moan from his chest, and damn. It sets me off. I squeeze my eyes shut as unbearable tingles spread like wildfire over my scalp, around my ears, and down my spine. My toes curl of their own accord and my body seizes. I want it to end.
I want it to go on forever.
I pull against Caleb’s hold and he releases me. I drop my head against the mattress, burying my face into the blanket. He talks to me, saying dirty, naughty things as he grips my hips and slams harder into me. Over and over.
Harder.
Faster.
Until I swear I’m going to break apart.
Until he finds his own release and spills inside me with loud, uneven groans and violent jerks from his cock. When he’s done, he drops to the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. Under my cheek, his chest rises and falls quickly as he tries to catch his breath. It doesn’t take long for my eyelids to droop with sleep, even though I know I need to shower, and I let it take me under as Caleb whispers another declaration of his love to me.
Chapter Nine
C A S S I A
The next evening
I leave work a bundle of nerves.
Tonight, I’ll be seeing Nick for the first time since our argument and the phone calls that ensued. This morning, after Nick left for work and I had to eat a large English breakfast to appease Caleb in return for my clothes, I went home. Being there was the strangest feeling. It was alien almost, as if everything I owned belonged to a different me. It was the first time since arriving in New York I felt uncomfortable in my own space and my own skin. Being alone was the only thing that made me feel calm. It allowed me to gather my thoughts. If I had to deal with Nick this morning, feeling the way I was feeling, I don’t know what words would’ve come out of my mouth. Caleb and I spent most of last night staring at each other in the dark, not speaking, until he fell asleep. He’s so beautiful when he sleeps. His eyebrows lose tension and his lips peacefully part, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I wish it were true. I wish Agnes wasn’t ill and that Caleb and I could spend more time with her as a couple.
Sighing, I tuck a bottle of wine wrapped in brown paper underneath my arm. Nick will already be home when I get there, and I’ll need to drink every drop to make it through our first meeting since our argument and eventual break-up. My nerves eat at me. I’m terrified of what Nick will read on my face the minute he sees me. I’ve never been hard to read, and I’m sure I wear my anxiety and guilt as obvious as I wear my eyeliner.
Will Nick be able to tell I’ve slept with someone else? That Caleb has retethered my heart to his and there isn’t a thread of affection left for him? It’s a shame, really. Nick and I made good friends but terrible lovers. I hate I have to lose his friendship because I wasn’t brave enough to set boundaries in the first place. The more I think about how Nick and I started, the more I realize Caleb is right. I caved to Nick because I had no one else. He was convenient for me. I was living in his house and it made sense to try…but something changed the more comfortable we became. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it. His moods fluctuate from hot to cold depending on my word choice or my actions. I shake my head. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve met, but at the same time, not? I frown at the sidewalk as I stroll home. I don’t know how to explain it. Thinking back on my relationship with Nick has always left me in the strangest state of confusion. It’s a big part of why I’m nervous to confront him tonight. A dark, heavy vine of dread twists in my stomach. Tonight, when I come face to face with him, I have two options. Confess everything, including the fact Caleb is my ex-boyfriend from my time in Paradise Valley, or keep shoveling lies on top of the mess I’ve made until I find my own place and leave Nick behind. Confessing is the right thing to do, but it’s the hardest, and it fills me with toxic anxiety. I don’t know how Nick would react if I confessed all my lies. For the most part, I can handle his longwinded verbal lashings, but there’s a small part of me—a tiny, but heavy tendril of fear—that’s concerned he’ll physically hurt me. Maybe it’s silly. He’s never laid a finger on me, but he’s hit other things during a disagreement. A wall, the bin, a kitchen cupboard, and he’s thrown food. Articles I’ve read on the internet say it’s only a matter of time before his show of strength used to intimidate me becomes something more serious. What if this is it? I don’t want this mess I’ve created to be his snapping point.
My chaotic train of thought leads me all the way home, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of Nick’s apartment, staring at the wood. Low, muffled music flows from underneath the door and into the hall.
He’s home.
A part of me was hoping he’d be too anxious to sit through a meal with me and he bailed. My heart beats wildly in my chest, my palms are sweaty, and my stomach turbulent. I suck in a sharp, deep breath and smooth down my hair.
“Get it together,” I whisper on exhale, feeling stupid. “Get it over and done with so you can move on.”
I close my eyes and place my hand on my stomach, drawing my shoulders back. I wait a beat, then open my eyes and dig into my handbag for my apartment key. I startle when the door opens before I find it and I’m met with Nick’s kind, wide smile and warm eyes.
“You’re here,” he says, adjusting the cuff at the wrist of his black, button-up shirt. “I was starting to get worried.”
I stammer, then reach for the bottle of wine tucked under my arm. “I stopped for wine.”
He takes the bottle from my grasp, then pulls me in for a hug. My body goes rigid, my arms dead straight at my sides. To end it, I quickly pat him on the back and he pulls away, moving to the side to let me into the apartment. I offer quiet thanks and step inside. I keep my attention downcast to my shoes, watching as snow and water run off my expensive leather heels and onto the mat. The door clicks behind me and I feel Nick at my back soon after. I move quickly, lowering my bag from my shoulder to my hand and forgo taking off my shoes just to avoid lingering in front of him on the landing.
“It smells good—” I choke on my words with a harsh gulp.
Caleb, Wade, and his two girlfriends sit in the living room, looking at me. All their expressions are tight and awkward, except Caleb’s. Leaning against the back of the brown leather couch, he flicks his dark gaze over me, knocking the air from my lungs. Holy hell. He looks hot. Heat blooms at the back of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine as I helplessly drink him in. I flick my gaze down his leather bomber jacket, white tee, black pants, and crisp white sneakers. In his hand, he clenches a beer bottle by its neck.
“Oh. Hello,” I greet them, my voice an octave higher than it normally is.
Wade and the girls offer me small waves before averting their gaze to the television to watch the hockey game.
“I invited the neighbors over for dinner,” Nick says, sliding his hands over my shoulders. I stiffen and Caleb’s eyebrows draw in as he watches Nick touch me so casually. Turning me by my shoulders, he unbuttons the top button of my steel gray coat. “I cooked your favorite dish.”
I pull away from him and touch my gloved fingers to the second button, undoing it myself.
“What’s her favorite?” Caleb asks, pushing off the couch.
Oxygen is syphoned from my lungs with every step he takes, leaving me breathless by the time he stands a foot to my left. The crisp, earthy smell of his cologne wafts over me, heating my blood, whipping every cell in my body into a frenzy. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to run my nose along his neck and inhale him in, then lick his bare flesh all over.
“Roast lamb with a tangy rosemary and thyme glaze. Roast vegetables as a side, crispy on the outside, soft in the middle, and gravy to drown it in.” Nick beams proudly, pulling the brown paper bag off my bottle of wine to read the label. I know he’ll like it. It’s his favorite brand and flavor. “Oh, and it’s extra salty.”
He winks and t
urns away, and all I can do is stare after him, confused as hell. I’m unsure where we stand? Is this his way of moving forward? Is he being friendly, or are his intentions romantic? I can’t deduce.
“I’ll help you with that, uh, that salad now,” Wade announces, pushing out of Nick’s favorite armchair.
He sets his half-empty beer on the coffee table and smooths his palms down the front of his tattered jeans. Offering us a tight smile, he saunters into the kitchen and engages Nick in conversation. I watch, mindlessly, as Nick pulls Wade over to the oven and opens it up for him to look inside.
Beside me, Caleb simpers. “Are you going to tell him you’re allergic to rosemary, or can I?”
He’s smirking, but his eyes are demanding something of me. An explanation, probably, but how can I explain this? I feel my face fall into a sad frown as I look at him.
“I missed you today,” I utter, a whisper only he can hear. I shrug out of my coat, revealing a nice wooly winter dress in a gorgeous red wine shade. It cost me a pretty penny, but it’s worth every cent. “Terribly.”
Everything about Caleb brightens then—his skin, his eyes, his posture—and he looks infinitely more handsome as his devilish smirk curves into a soft, loving smile. “I want to kiss you.”
Subconsciously, I turn my body toward him and move an inch closer as his aura draws me in. I want him to kiss me. I want nothing more than to melt against him after the long, tiring day I’ve had. My feet hurt—everything hurts—and I need…I need him.
“Babe?” Nick’s voice pulls me from my stupor as he calls from the kitchen. Caleb and I grimace, as if Nick raked his fingers down a chalkboard. “Babe?”
A cold nausea works its way through my body. Why’s he calling me babe? Caleb holds out his hand for my coat and I hand it to him. His index finger brushes along the back of my hand, setting fire to my blood.
“God, that irritates me,” he grumbles, pulling my coat from my grip, lifting his beer to his lips.
I scratch nervously at the back of my head. “Ignore it.”
He swallows his mouthful of beer and cuts his eyes at me. “Ignore it? You’re not a fucking pig, Cass.”
“Sia?” Nick peers over his shoulder from where he stands in front of the open oven and his eyebrows draw together when he sees me standing so close to Caleb. I lean back a little. The way he surveys us makes me uncomfortable, as if this whole dinner was put together to serve an ulterior motive. “Do you want to see it?”
“Uh, yeah,” I call back. “Sure.”
Wade pulls an awkward face in my direction, then turns his attention to the roast lamb in the oven and strikes up a conversation with Nick.
“We can get through this dinner, right?” I ask Caleb, and there’s no hiding the apprehension in my voice.
He shrugs his brilliantly broad shoulders. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try. For you.”
I give him the most genuine smile and saunter away from him, joining Wade and Nick by the oven. He makes me look at the food he’s prepared, expecting gratuitous thanks after every item he shows me. I can tell by his eyes he’s not happy with me. I try to be excited, but it’s coming off as confused, especially when he toys with my hair or brushes his fingers along the back of my hand, like a doting lover would. My hairs stand on their ends, knowing Caleb is watching me—watching us—and there’s nothing I can do about Nick’s public display of affection without embarrassing him, or myself, in front of Wade and his girlfriends. They don’t need to witness our mess.
Lastly, Nick shows me the cherry pie he’s prepared for dessert and I fake my oohs and aahs. I’m not an actress by any means, but I do my best to seem impressed to appease his pride even though I’m not hungry, nor do I want to mix food with the nausea and apprehension swirling in my stomach.
Soon enough, the food is served and we’re all seated at the large dining table underneath the beautiful pendant lights I fell in love with when I first got here. Now, they feel like the swinging bulbs of an interrogation room thanks to my guilt.
Wade does a good job at keeping conversation up with Nick so I can push my garden salad around my plate in peace, but Nick directs the conversation in my direction every chance he gets and I hate the fake interest I have to show. This is not how tonight was supposed to go. I talked myself into facing Nick all day. I prepared myself mentally for the discussion, and I’m quickly losing traction. It’s irritating that he’s using our neighbors to ignore everything that happened between us. I can’t let it. Dinner with our neighbors won’t smooth our argument over. He’s delaying the inevitable, and he’ll use dinner to make himself the victim when we’re alone tonight.
A hand rests on top of mine and it rips me from my train of thought. I glance at it, at Nick’s thick fingers and the sporadic hairs that stick out on each digit. My heart takes a dive. What is he doing? Without looking at Caleb, I pull my hand free and reach for the salt. Slipping my foot from my heel, I touch my legging covered foot to his shin and his shoulders relax. It feels wrong and slimy to touch Caleb under the table, away from everyone’s gaze, but I need him to know this dinner, and all Nick’s doing tonight, doesn’t change anything.
I still want him.
I only want him.
“Try the lamb.” Nick cuts off a chunk of meat and puts it on my plate, right on top of my salad, ruining it.
I lower my fork as thick tendrils of dread bury in my chest. I hate I have to tell him right now in front of his guests. He knows I’m allergic to rosemary. It’s the main reason his mother thinks I’m a spoiled, ungrateful asshole. She cooked creamy chicken and rosemary pie when she came to New York for Nick’s birthday a few months ago. I couldn’t eat it and she took it personally.
“I’m allergic to rosemary,” I tell him quietly, as Wade and Lara engage Lauren in conversation.
Caleb, however, sits back in his chair and watches on in amusement.
Nick tilts his head, frowning. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
My rosemary allergy is nothing serious. I only get an itchy facial rash, but it takes five days to clear up. Nick continues to watch me, as if he’s expecting me to crack a smile and admit I’m only kidding. Flicking his eyebrows, he goes back to his food and I roll my eyes, pulling a face at Caleb. With a smug smile I want to kiss off his face, he pushes over a plate of roast chicken and salad I watched him prepare and set beside his plate of roast lamb and vegetables earlier.
Nick eyes it and his jaw tenses mid-chew. I tug on the plate, pulling it in front of me as I push the lamb aside.
“Thank you,” I simply say to Caleb, avoiding eye contact.
The air is tense and I can’t breathe. Thankfully, Wade engages Nick in a conversation about video games, and he takes the bait, eagerly leaping into his favorite topic, not sparing me a second thought. Now it’s Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes, and he hooks his foot around mine. It fills me with warm and fuzzy feelings I’ve craved all day.
Knock. Knock.
We all look to Nick, who sits to my right at the head of the table. I swallow a large piece of lettuce with unease because he’s smiling at me. He takes my hand again, and I pull free, but he doesn’t register it. His eyelids are hooded with the effects of the alcohol he’s consumed, and I guess that has something to do with his shitty attention to detail. “Can you answer that, please, babe?”
Caleb’s chair creaks, and I grit my teeth as heat flares in my cheeks. “Okay.”
I push away from the table and smooth my hands down the front of my dress as I stand and turn. When I’m a room away from the dining table, I can breathe better. I don’t care who is on the other side of the wood, I’m thankful for the thirty-second reprieve. Clearing my throat, I pull the door open and—
“Sia!” Fiona squeals, bursting into the apartment, throwing herself against me.
Her body collides with mine and I stumble backward.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim, wrapping my arms around her, squeezing her to me.
The ice on her thick winter coat seeps into my dress and bites at my warm skin, but I don’t care. Having her here, it’s like New York suddenly got a little less claustrophobic. I’ve missed her so much. We talk regularly, but it’s not enough. I need her here. Out of nowhere, my face screws up and chest expands. I don’t have time to choke down the overwhelming foam that builds in my chest, and I burst into tears, burying my face into her long, auburn hair.
I don’t know how long we hold each other. Long enough for me to pull myself together and for my tears to dry, at least. I can’t believe she’s here. I wasn’t expecting to see her until late next year. Fiona pulls away and cups my face in her hands. “I’m so fucking happy to see you. Christ. It’s been forever!”
She has no idea. Whatever her forever is, mine is triple that. We were each other’s support for so long after we left Paradise Valley, we became sisters. Then she left, and I got so damn lost without her.
“Fiona,” Nick greets her, appearing at my side. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming.”
He invited her? My genuine smile for Fiona turns into a fake one for Nick as he pulls her into a hug and looks at me. Why’s he doing all this? Why’s he making this so much harder for me than it has to be? I cast my attention toward the table, to Caleb, who leans back in his chair and rolls his eyes at me.
“So, you two are okay now?” Fiona asks, flicking her pretty stare between us.
She’s confused, it’s loud in her tone, and she has every reason to be. Hell, I’m confused too.
Nick looks at me, nodding ever so slightly, and I think I’m going to puke. I scratch nervously at the back of my head. I’ve let this go too far. He has to know I’m not comfortable, that what happened the other night can’t be swept under the rug and forgotten about. I’ve done things…made promises to someone else—and that’s shitty on my part, but I don’t regret it. My future is clear for the first time in a long time, and I can’t keep wasting my life being unhappy or feeling uncomfortable. I’ve done that long enough. Nick gestures for Fiona to pull up a chair at the table, and I snag his elbow before he’s able to walk off with her.