Our Way

by T L Swan

Tiffany giggles on cue, and I want to vomit in my own mouth.

  “I need to keep my wits about me.” I fake a smile at Tiffany.

  Nathan’s eyes rise to mine. “Why is that?”

  “Well, I’m going out tonight. I don’t need a head start.” That’s not actually a lie. I really don’t want to get drunk. I also don’t want to end up in bed with you… but that’s a secret I will take to my grave.

  “Oh, I see.” His eyes scan the drinks menu. “I’ll have a glass of the Henschke, please.”

  “Is that all?” she asks.

  “It is.” He smiles. “Thank you, Tiffany.”

  She goes up onto her toes, and then with a bashful smile, she takes off to the kitchen.

  I stare at him flatly, don’t say it, don’t say it. “You’re very friendly today, Mr. Mercer.” I internally kick myself for saying it.

  “I’m always friendly, Eliza, what on earth do you mean?”

  “No, you are impatient and grumpy.”

  He smiles. “I’ve changed since we last spent time together.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Yes.” He looks around the restaurant like he’s Mary fucking Poppins and butter wouldn’t melt in his gorgeous mouth. Too bad I know that it does.

  “Do tell, what’s changed?” I ask.

  Tiffany arrives back with our drinks and puts them on the table in front of us. “Thank you.” He smiles as he raises his glass to me. “Bottoms up.” He takes a sip.

  I raise my eyebrow as I watch him, unimpressed that he’s drinking our favorite red wine, and I’m not.

  “I’m more empathetic now,” he tells me.

  My eyebrows rise in surprise. “Really? Has this change happened today?”

  “No, why do you say that?”

  “Well, you were especially self-absorbed last night.”

  “Hmm.” He sips his wine, and I can almost see his lips twitching as he tries to hold his tongue. “I’ve worked on that.”

  “Who with? Your therapist?”

  “Here’s your bread.” The waitress puts the bread onto the table, and she looks between us with a huge smile.

  Oh, for Pete’s sake, get lost Tiffany.

  Nathan butters his bread. “Do you want some?” he asks me.

  Don’t say it… don’t say it… don’t say it.

  “How many men have you slept with since we broke up?” I ask. Shut up, shut up.

  “None.”

  “None?”

  “Nearly one, but I didn’t go through with it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We left a bar with the intention of having sex, but once I was outside, I realized I didn’t want it and I left. That’s not my… I’m not into it.”

  “How many women?”

  “None that count.”

  “Nathan.” I snap.

  “Why would you want to know that?”

  “Because I need to know. I want to have all the facts in front of me.”

  “Why?”

  “I just do.”

  His brow furrows as if doing an internal risk assessment. “Four.”

  Hmm, not as bad as I imagined. “Who are they?”

  “What the fuck does it matter?” He whispers angrily.

  “You want me to process everything. This is me doing that.”

  “I have no idea. They work at the strip club.”

  I sit forward in disgust. “You had sex with prostitutes?” I whisper.

  “You would rather have me spend the night sweet-talking someone?” He gasps as if outraged. “It was a physical urge I had to scratch, so I took care of it in the most mechanical way that I knew how to.”

  “So, you went to the strip club on four occasions, and…”

  “Twice.”

  I frown. “You did the four girls twice?”

  He looks around. “Keep your fucking voice down,” he whispers. “I went to the strip club twice and had a threesome with two girls both times.”

  My mouth falls open and I sit back. “Wow. Go you.”

  I stare at him for a moment, and it’s official. I must be tapped. A normal woman would be outraged, but this information has me strangely mollified. He wasn’t intimate with anybody. It was just sex.

  “I nearly called your therapist last week,” I admit.

  “Why?”

  “I just wanted to check if you were okay.” Shit, shut up, shut up.

  He sits forward, as if excited. “You were worried about me as recently as last week?”

  “That was before I found out you went to Ibiza with Robert.”

  “On a platonic group holiday. Don’t make it sound like something it wasn’t, Eliza.”

  “Hmm.” I sip my Diet Coke. “I don’t care what you do anyway.” I lie.

  He gives me a slow, sexy smile as his eyes hold mine. “I know.”

  He’s so onto me.

  I sip my drink as I look around. This was a bad idea.

  Our meals arrive, and we eat in silence for a while. He’s completely at ease, while I’m deep in regret about my little slip up about asking who he slept with. Why did I ask that? Now he knows I care.

  “You know, my mother knows everything,” he says.

  I frown as I chew. “What do you mean?”

  “She knows that we fell in love, and she knows that we broke up.”

  My mouth falls open. “But she’s never said anything. I must have seen her ten times, and I speak to her every second day.”

  “Because she was afraid that if you knew she knew, things would be weird between you. She was scared that you were going to leave her, too.”

  I put my hand over my heart. “That makes me so sad. I would never leave her.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Just me, then.”

  “I was forced to leave you, Nathan, it was never by choice.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” He bites his lasagne off his fork. “We are just friends, after all.”

  “Precisely.”

  His eyes hold mine, and I know he’s trying to make me crack without actually saying anything.

  “Where is your new apartment in San Fran?” He changes the subject.

  “In my old neighbourhood, around the corner.”

  “It’s okay?”

  “Yes, smaller than my last one but it will be fine.”

  He twists his lips as he listens. “How long is your lease?”

  “Twelve months.”

  “Twelve months?” He snaps in an outrage.

  “Yes,” I reply calmly. “Is that a problem?”

  “No.” He bites the food off his fork with force. “Why would it be?” he asks through gritted teeth.

  I inwardly smile, and we eat in silence, once more.

  “What time does your plane leave?” I ask.

  “Five.”

  “Okay, you probably should get going soon,” I reply happily.

  He stares at me, deadpan. “I should.”

  “You should ask your friend Tiffany for the bill.”

  “I will.” His bottom teeth catch his top lip, and I know he’s trying desperately to hold his tongue. “I mean, there’s no reason to stay in New York tonight, is there?”

  “No.” I shrug. “There really isn’t.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I shrug casually, as if I don’t have a care in the world.

  “Where are you going tonight?”

  “Out with my work friends for dinner and drinks. It’s my farewell dinner. I’m really looking forward to it.” His eyes hold mine, and it’s really hard not burst out laughing at his attempt to hide his tantrum from me. I can read him like a book.

  “Well, have a safe trip.” I stand.

  “We need to split the bill.”

  Nathan doesn’t split bills. This is the first time in ten years I have ever heard him say that to anyone. “Okay, great. How much do I owe you?”

  “Sit back down while I work it
out.” he whispers angrily.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask innocently.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really? Because you look like something is wrong.”

  “Nothing. Is. Wrong.” He growls.

  I smile. “I’m glad you’ve changed and are now so empathetic. This is a real improvement, Nathan. This will be great for your new relationships going forward.”

  He glares at me and I think I have a new favorite hobby—goading Nathan Mercer is fun.

  Come on, fight me. I dare you.

  I take my money from my purse and put it onto the table. “It was lovely seeing you.”

  He narrows his eyes.

  I put my hand out to shake his, and he squeezes it so hard, he nearly breaks my fingers.

  “Have a safe trip home,” I say.

  “I will.” His eyes hold mine. “Have a nice life.”

  “I will.” I smile sweetly.

  We walk out the door, and into the street, and he turns toward me. “Got anything you want to say to me?” he asks.

  “Goodbye.” I smile.

  I turn to walk down the street, and I close my eyes with pride.

  I did it. I stuck to my guns.

  The table all erupts into laughter, and I snort my drink up my nose. It’s been the best night. We had dinner and are now sitting around a large table in a busy cocktail bar.

  There are twenty-seven of us in total–mostly people I work with and a few of their husbands. I’m going to miss these guys.

  “Oh Lord, have fucking mercy.” Louise gasps. “Look at that fine specimen at the bar.”

  We all glance over to see who’s she talking about, and my mouth drops open.

  Nathan, my Nathan, is standing at the bar.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  “Holy shit, he’s ridiculous,” Annie says. “Do you reckon he’s a model or something?”

  The girls all sit and stare at him with a running commentary on what he could do to them.

  He’s standing against the bar with his elbows resting on it as he talks to the barman. He’s wearing black jeans that fit in all the right places, his tight ass firmly in view and a black shirt that shows off every inch of his broad shoulders. His strong forearms are bare and displaying his designer chunky silver watch. His hair is messed up to perfection and, God, the girls are completely right. He looks fucking hot.

  “Actually, I know him,” I announce.

  “What?” They all gasp.

  “He’s my friend from San Fran. His name is Nathan.”

  “What the hell?” Annie hits me on the leg. “Go… bring him to us!” she demands.

  I giggle as I stand and go to the bar.

  He turns toward me as I approach him, “Eliza.” His gaze drops to my toes and back up to my face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  He sips his drink as his eyes dance with mischief. “Are you following me, Bennet?”

  “I thought you went home.”

  He licks his bottom lip as his eyes darken. “Change of plans.”

  28

  Eliza

  “And what are they?” I ask.

  He turns to the bar as the waiter approaches. “Two top shelf margaritas, please.”

  “Sure thing,” the waiter replies and gets to work making our drinks.

  “What’s the change of plans, Nathan?” I repeat.

  “Well…” His brow furrows as he sips his drink. “Obviously, I’m still here.”

  “I can see that. Your stalking knows no bounds.”

  “It’s a necessary evil.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m working on something that I can’t really talk about yet.” He shrugs as he looks over at my table of friends. He gives them a smile and wave. I glance over to see them all watching us. Oh jeez, we have an audience.

  I turn my attention back to him. “Why not?” I ask.

  “It’s a work in progress. I haven’t had enough time to carry out the ground work yet.”

  “Which is?”

  “To become completely irresistible to you.” He smirks against his glass, and his eyes dance with mischief. “Although, it shouldn’t be hard.”

  I struggle to keep a straight face. “Oh, really?”

  “Why? Don’t you find me irresistible?”

  “Not in the least,” I reply, deadpan.

  He gives me a slow, sexy smile, “Well, there you go. My point proven.”

  That’s a lie. He is completely irresistible and then some.

  Stop it.

  “So, when do I get to hear about this plan?” I ask.

  “After you introduce me to your friends.”

  “You know you’re not actually invited tonight.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  I shrug. “No.”

  He smiles softly. “Good, because I don’t want to go.”

  We stare at each other, and it’s there between us, the crackle in the air. That spark of possibility. An attraction I can’t deny.

  “Come on,” he says, pulling me out of my little daydream. “Let’s go meet your colleagues.”

  “You’re just my friend, remember?”

  “How could I fucking forget? How long for, anyway?”

  “Until I say so. With your track record . . .”

  “Why does it matter now?”

  “Because it does, that’s why. If you think I’m trusting you not to do that again on a whim, you are sadly mistaken.” I weave through the tables, leading the way until we get to my friends. “This is Nathan,” I introduce him. “We are friends from San Fran.”

  “Hello.” He smiles at everyone.

  “Take a seat,” I say.

  He pulls out his chair and sits opposite me. “How is everyone?” He smiles at them.

  They all break into chatter with him. A new hot guy at the table seems to be very exciting.

  I sip my drink as I watch him. He’s being friendly and nice, answering all their questions and trying really hard to make conversation.

  So un-Nathan-Mercer-like.

  “So, what do you do, Nathan?” Annie asks.

  “I’m a cardiologist,” he says.

  I can almost see the girls’ eyes lighting up.

  “And do you have a partner Nathan?” someone asks.

  “Yes, I do. A beautiful girlfriend, very much in love.” He smiles.

  I watch him command the table as everyone hangs on his every word.

  “How long have you been with her?”

  His eyes flicker to me. “Ten years.”

  My heart swells.

  “Ten years?”Annie gasps. “And you haven’t married her yet?”

  “Ah.” He smiles and drops his head, as if embarrassed. “We took the long way around. Maybe one day.”

  His eyes come back to linger on me.

  “If I can talk her into it,” he adds, we stare at each other across the table.

  What am I doing?

  I love him. He loves me…

  But I don’t trust him, and the hurt still lingers.

  I don’t want to jump back into a relationship. I can’t go through that again.

  I just can’t.

  But then…

  “What’s your favorite hobby, Nathan?” someone else asks. This is like a really bad dating app. Who cares about his hobbies?

  “Horse riding,” he answers without missing a beat.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. He’s never been horse riding in his life.

  He raises his eyebrow across the table at me, and I know he means sex.

  I smile against my glass. That’s actually true. Sex is definitely his favorite hobby.

  Three hours later, Nathan has talked to everyone in the club, and his friendliness is at an all-time high. I’ve never seen him trying so hard to be nice. He’s standing at the bar, ordering drinks, and I go and stand beside him. I’ve had more than enough of his top
shelf margaritas, and I’m feeling very relaxed.

  “So, Mr. Mercer.”

  “Yes.” He gives me a slow sexy smile. “That’s my name.”

  “Are you going to tell me your plan?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Well, you have to agree to it before I tell you.”

  I laugh. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

  “I’m hoping so.” He takes a sip of his drink.

  “Tell me the plan.”

  “Well…” He inhales sharply, as if he’s steeling himself. “You only want to be friends?”

  “Correct.”

  “But I only want you. ”

  We stare at each other as the air crackles between us.

  “So… I’ve come up with a compromise, so to speak. I think this will suit us both.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m really not sure how you are going to react to this, and it could completely backfire here.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just spit it out.”

  He hesitates for a moment. “How would you feel about being friends with benefits?”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded.

  “But you know it would just keep me… well, both of us, really… physically satisified while you…” He trips over his words.

  “While I what?”

  “Decide on our future.”

  I stare at him, what in the world? This is the last thing that I was expecting him to say.

  “No pressure. No expectations,” he continues. “Just living in the moment for a while.” He shrugs as if this makes complete sense.

  I roll my lips to hide my smile. “So, you want to use my body as a booty-call?”

  “No… I want you to use my body as a booty-call.”

  “And what body part are you going to be benefiting me with?”

  “Right now?”

  I nod as our eyes lock.

  “My tongue.

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “I want to lay you out, spread those pretty thighs apart and lick you up. It’s been way too long since you came on my tongue.”

  I get a visual of Nathan’s head between my legs, and I get tingles down there. That’ll do it.

  “Hmm, interesting concept,” I reply dryly, as I act uninterested.

  He smirks. “I think so.”

  “No expectations?” I raise my eyebrow.

  “Not a one.”

  “No promises?”

  “Orgasms are the only sure thing.”