He gives me a small smile. “I understand. And you’re right, about all of it.” His fingers drift up and down my arm. “I’m just being greedy.”
“If things were different—”
“—but they aren’t,” he finishes for me.
I shake my head.
His gaze moves past me to the clock on the stove. His palms smooth down my back. “Can I take you to bed one last time before I drive you to the airport?”
I should say no. It would be the smart thing to do, especially after this conversation. But I don’t. “Please.”
_______________
“TELL ME ALL about the wedding! How was Hottie McDaddy? Did you take pictures? Did you get to at least dance with him?” Paxton, my colleague and very close friend, props her chin on her fist, eyes alight with excitement. Hottie McDaddy is the nickname she’s given Jake.
We’ve been working at the art studio for years, teaching classes together. It’s a hobby and a passion for both of us. We’ve been friends for decades.
Paxton was one of the first girls I met when I was finally able to return to school after Ryan was born. She was also the only friend I had who knew the truth: that Ryan wasn’t my baby brother. And she kept that secret for our entire friendship, until Gordon let the cat out of the bag. She’s always been someone I can confide in.
We’re at her place, sitting on her back deck, eating tortilla chips and guac, sipping bubbly water. She offered me a glass of wine or a margarita, but after the wedding, I need to dry out for a week, or three. It’s been two days since I arrived home. Two days to think about the way I left things with Jake. How, on the way to the airport, he commented that he knew something felt different this weekend. And when he’d kissed me goodbye, it had felt like heartbreak.
Over the past two days, I’ve gone over and over every single encounter. In the spare bedroom, in his bed, in the shower, in the pool, the hot tub, the kitchen counter, the living room. We had an exceptional amount of sex. I feel like I’m going through some kind of withdrawal.
And I miss him.
Which is so bad. And stupid. And exactly the reason I needed to stop things when I did. Because clearly, I’m starting to have real feelings for him, and I need to put those in a box and bury them six feet underground.
“I did something stupid.” I poke at the lemon slice floating in my glass with my straw, mostly so I don’t have to see her reaction when I spill the beans. Especially since I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about the fact I’ve been sleeping with Jake for months.
“Like get drunk and make an emotional speech while sobbing kind of stupid?” she asks.
“No. That would actually be tame in comparison.”
She stops trying to chase a piece of tomato around the bowl of guac. “Did you murder someone?”
I give her a look. “Of course not.”
“Then it can’t be that bad.”
“I slept with Jake.”
Confusion makes her eyebrows try to meet each other. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
I lift my hand in front of my mouth and repeat myself, “Jake. I’ve been sleeping with him.”
Paxton frowns. “We’re not talking about Hottie McDaddy, are we?”
I clasp my hands to stop from biting my nails or shoving another handful of chips into my mouth. “Yes, we are.”
Paxton’s chip breaks in half. “Holy shit.”
“I know.” I scrub my hand over my face.
“Whoa. Wait. Back this bus up. First you said you slept with Jake, and then you said you’ve been sleeping with Jake. Does that mean this wasn’t a drunken one-off?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t a one-off.”
“And you’re just telling me now? How long has this been going on?”
I start chewing on my nail. “A while.”
She narrows her eyes. “What’s a while?”
“Since the engagement party.” It sounds so much worse when I say it aloud, which is probably why I haven’t until now.
“Not to point out the obvious or anything, Han, but your kids are married to each other.”
I raise a hand. “I know, I know. I told him this weekend we had to stop.”
“Okay. Wow. How’d he take it?”
“He said he understood.” And then we had more sex. The desperate tear-each-other’s-clothes-off kind.
“Do you believe him?”
“I do. He understands the challenges with my relationship with Ryan.”
Paxton blows out a breath. “Did you talk about how you were going to manage the next family gathering? I know with the wedding being over, you won’t see each other as much, but there are still holidays and birthdays.”
“I know!” I throw my hands in the air. “Hence the reason I can’t believe I did something so stupid.” For months. A lot of months. “I’m forty-six. I should not be thinking with my hormones at this age!”
“Eh, I mean, we’re heading into the menopause stage of things, so really, we’re all hormones.”
“You’re not helping!”
“I’m deflecting with humor because I honestly don’t know how to help. He must be pretty damn good in bed if you’ve been sleeping with him all this time. I still can’t believe you kept it from me. No wonder you were always so giddy about going to freaking Seattle. Is this why you started taking Pilates?”
“I started taking Pilates because it makes me feel good.” And also because I needed to limber up for all the sexy times. “And yes, he’s amazing in bed. He’s in really good shape. Not just for a guy in his forties, but in general. He still has a six-pack. Well, it’s more like a four-pack, but still. And he’s definitely got it going on.”
“You mean he’s hung?” She props her chin on her fist again.
“Oh yes.”
“Is that why you’re walking all funny?” she asks.
“I’m not walking funny!” Although I was yesterday. And the day before that.
“Come on, Han, give me some details! You’ve been sitting on this for months! Is he so hung you were uncomfortable the next day? Or does he have the kind of penis you’d like to get more of on a regular basis. You know, boyfriend dick. If he wasn’t your daughter-in-law’s father and Ryan’s father-in-law, that is.”
“Oh, he definitely has a boyfriend dick. And he’s very skilled at oral.” I point under the table. “And multiple Os.”
“Multiple Os?” She slaps the table. “Oh man, are you sure you want to stop riding that ride?”
“No, but I have to. I can’t do that to Ryan.”
She sags in her chair. “Dammit. Oral skills, multiple Os, abs, and a boyfriend dick? You found a unicorn and you have to give him up. That’s just tragic.”
“It is. He really is the whole package, pun completely intended.” I scrub a hand over my face. “We almost got caught by Ryan’s best friend during the freaking wedding.”
Paxton’s mouth drops open. “During? What’d you do, sneak off for a quickie?”
It all sounds so sordid. I explain what happened, the speeches, the mother-son dance, how Jake came to find me.
“Do you think he’ll say anything to Ryan?” Paxton manages to pick most of her chip parts out of the guac.
“He didn’t see anything, but it was too close for comfort, you know? Ryan and I have spent so much time trying to rebuild our relationship and trust. I don’t want to put this kind of strain on it.”
Paxton regards me for a moment before she asks, “Do you have feelings for Jake? Aside from wanting to jump his bones.”
My throat feels tight and that ache in my chest tells me the answer to that question. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t compromise my relationship with Ryan.” It’s bad enough that it’s gone on this long. It was only supposed to be that one weekend, but obviously that wasn’t how it panned out.
“Ah. I see.” She flips a chip between her fingers. “You don’t think Ryan would understand?”
“Jake and I live on opposite ends of the country
. It was never going to be anything but casual.”
“Have you heard from him since you’ve been home?”
I nod. “He wanted me to message when I got home, so I did. And then he messaged again today to ask how I’m doing. We were friends before we started sleeping together, so I’m hoping we can go back to being friends again. I know it’ll probably be weird for a while, but I’m sure everything will be fine.”
It’ll just take some time for us to get used to the fact we know what each other’s come faces look like when we’re sitting across from each other at family dinner in the future.
No biggie.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Baby, Don’t Lose My Number
Hanna
OVER THE WEEKS that follow, Jake and I continue to message and talk like we used to, before we started sleeping together. It’s an adjustment, especially when he’s still his flirty self and I’m determined to keep us in the friend zone. It’s not easy, but I remind myself that if I keep falling into bed with him every time I see him, I’m being selfish. Ryan is more important than my sex life.
But I can’t pretend that I don’t miss the trips out to Seattle and all the time Jake and I spent together.
A couple of months after the wedding, he calls on one of my exciting Friday nights. I’m relaxing in the tub, reading a book. I was supposed to go out for dinner with a few colleagues, but I didn’t feel up to it. My lower back has been tight, probably because I skipped a couple of Pilates workouts last week. I was just too tired. I’m blaming it on long hours at work.
Jake and I haven’t had a reason to speak on the phone since the wedding, and my stomach flip-flops as his name flashes across the screen. I put him on speakerphone. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good. Getting ready for preseason training, trying to enjoy what’s left of my summer, but I’m not very good at the whole relaxing thing.”
“Mmm. I’m very familiar with what relaxing looks like when it comes to you.” Even though it’s not meant to sound suggestive, somehow my tone makes it so.
He chuckles softly. “That you are.” I hear a repetitive tap, maybe a pen on a desk. “I wanted to run something by you.”
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. Everything is fine.” He clears his throat. “Queenie’s birthday is coming up next month.”
“Ah, yes. Ryan was telling me he’s planning a surprise party for her. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I think we’ve got it all covered. Ryan’s got a friend who owns this axe throwing bar and he’s renting out the entire place.”
“Oh! I remember he took her there when they started dating. That’s a great location!”
“It is, and there’s this cupcake place that’s connected to it. So food and dessert are all taken care of. The only thing that needs to be dealt with are some minor decorations, but Stevie and Lainey are taking care of that.”
“How fun. Ryan told me he’s taking her on a day date, so I don’t think she’s expecting it to be a big thing.” He’s always so thoughtful when it comes to birthday celebrations. Every year he sends flowers to my work and makes a point of flying home on my birthday, or flying me out to a game.
“That’s what he told me, too. Does that mean you’ll be coming out to Seattle?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it.” Although seeing Jake for the first time since the wedding is definitely going to be interesting, if not a little awkward, much like this conversation.
“Good, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me, too.” And I mean it. I am looking forward to seeing him, even if it’s challenging. I set the phone on the tray that sits over the tub, where I keep my e-reader and my glass of wine. Although tonight I’m sipping ginger tea since my stomach has been bothering me.
“I don’t know what your plans are, but you’re still more than welcome to stay here if you want. With me.” At my silence he rushes on. “I know we agreed that we need to stop… sleeping together, but, uh, that doesn’t mean we can’t still spend time together. With our clothes on.” He chuckles at the end, sounding nervous.
I close my eyes and fight a sigh. I want to say yes. I want to spend the weekend at his place, hanging out in his living room, relaxing in his hot tub, drinking coffee on his back deck in the morning. “I don’t really know if that’s a good idea, Jake.”
He’s quiet for several long seconds. “What if I told you I would be on my best behavior?”
“Do you really think you can do that?” He’s always been flirty with me. And even over the past couple of months he’s sent the occasional picture that looks innocent enough, but they always remind me of the weekends or nights we’ve spent together.
“I’d like to try,” he says softly.
“Jake.” I wish he wasn’t so persuasive.
“Hanna.” His voice is gravelly and low.
“I don’t know if I can trust myself to be alone with you,” I tell him honestly. It’s easy to convince myself that I can see him and keep him in the friend zone when there are literally thousands of miles between us, but it’s not the same when we’re sleeping under the same roof.
“I won’t let you do anything you regret.”
“You say that now, but what happens when we’ve both been drinking and we’re stumbling through the door at two in the morning and there’s no one to stop us from tearing each other’s clothes off?” I sink down in the water and groan. “And now that image is going to be burned into my head for the rest of the night.”
“It’s definitely an image I’m a fan of,” he says.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jake. I think we need to learn how to be friends again, before we put ourselves in a position that’s going to make us feel bad about our decisions. I want to say that I can handle staying at your place and that I won’t come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, but I don’t feel ready to test that hypothesis. And I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to turn me down and then we’ll both feel terrible, and I’ll gain five pounds afterward from drowning my embarrassment in ice cream.”
He’s quiet for a while and then he sighs. “That’s fair. And I don’t think I’d be able to turn you down. But I’m still looking forward to seeing you, even if you’re fully dressed the entire time.”
I laugh. “Me, too.” More than I should be.
_______________
THE NEXT MORNING, my phone buzzes and I grumble about people messaging too early on weekends. I blink a few times and am slightly confused when I notice I’m on the couch in my living room, rather than in my bed. I must have fallen asleep watching TV last night, which makes sense since baths always knock me out.
I leave my phone where it is and drag my groggy self to bed. The next time I open my eyes, the clock on the nightstand reads eleven o’clock. The last time I can remember sleeping in this late was when I was in my early twenties. Those were the days when I used to go out with friends and stay up until three in the morning. I’m pretty sure I passed out before ten last night.
Work has been busy, especially since I’m being considered for a promotion. I’ve been working for the same accounting firm for the past fifteen years, and when the chance to move into a management position became available, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. It comes with more responsibility and a significant pay increase that could accelerate my retirement plan. On top of that, I’ve been spending a lot of hours at the art studio, and clearly not getting enough sleep.
I’m teaching painting lessons this afternoon, and I need to be at the studio before one, so I roll out of bed, head for the bathroom, and turn on the shower. Once I’m dressed, I make a coffee, but the cream must have gone bad, because it tastes funky. I dump it out, grab a bottle of water and a banana, and leave for the studio.
Paxton is already there by the time I arrive, which isn’t a surprise because it’s ten to one. Usually, I’m half an hour e
arly so I have time to help set up.
“Hey! I messaged you earlier. Everything okay?” Paxton gives me a once-over.
“Oh shoot! I’m so sorry. I haven’t checked my phone at all today.” I rummage around in my purse for it but come up empty-handed. “And I don’t even have it with me. I’m a bit of a hot mess.” I set my purse down and shrug out of my coat, hanging it on a hook so I can help Paxton finish setting up.
“Late night?”
“Really early night, actually. And I slept until eleven.”
“Wow, channeling your inner teen, huh?”
“Seems that way.”
Students begin to arrive—our first class is for kids—and we spend the next hour teaching eight to ten-year-olds how to work with watercolors. After that, we have a group of seniors who are loads of fun. It’s been my side gig for a lot of years. It’s not something I’ve ever considered as a full-time job because as fun as it is, I think it would put a damper on my love of painting. But the studio is my outlet, and being here, helping people create, is my happy place.
“Want to head to Charlie’s for a bite to eat?” Paxton asks when we’re finished cleaning up.
“Sure. That sounds great.” My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten much apart from that banana at breakfast and a bag of chips from the vending machine in the breakroom between classes.
Paxton lives close to the studio, so we take my car to Charlie’s and settle into a booth in the back corner. I order a ginger ale and Paxton orders a glass of white wine.
“It’s Saturday. You’re not having a drink?” Paxton asks.
A KISS FOR A KISS Page 6