by Maisey Yates
“I’m glad you remembered,” he said, his chest feeling uncomfortably tight. “I’m glad you remembered that you matter.”
“I’m not sure I remembered it. More like I just discovered it for the first time. As far as being my own person, I’m behind a lot of other thirty-two-year-old women. But I’m figuring it out.”
He laughed. “Remember when I met you, and I didn’t think you were the owner of the bakery because you were too young? You’re not behind.”
“I’m definitely making up for lost time.” She looked him up and down, her expression turning lascivious. It was definitely a conscious effort at transformation. She was done addressing the hard things. That was fine with him, because he wasn’t really sure what to do with them. “A side effect of low self-esteem is having a lot of bad sex. You are very good sex, Cain. And that’s sort of the last piece of myself I had to put back together.”
“I guess that’s all part of moving on, right?” Now he was thinking about himself. “Eventually you start wanting the things that you wanted before.” He smiled. “Which, in my case is pretty simple stuff. Good food. And a naked woman. I’m not really sure I ever wanted to get married before Kathleen got pregnant. It just happened. But I’m damn sure I don’t want to get married again.”
“You’re singing my song,” she returned. “I like my life. I like my freedom. And, trust me, when you’ve had so much of your freedom taken from you you’re not in a hurry to give it up again.”
“I don’t want to take any of your freedom. I just want a little bit of your time.”
She smiled. “I think that’s a song lyric.”
“Is it? Well, it’s true either way. We can have just this for a while. And if you ever think of something else you want to say...about anything. You can tell me. Because I’m sure as hell not going to tell anyone you know.”
“Consequence-free sex and a consequence-free confessional?” She looked thoughtful. “That seems almost too good to be true.”
In a way, he knew that it was. But he was more than willing to keep up the fiction. Things were already changing inside of him since the revelations she’d made about her past. He didn’t want to change the way he felt because she had said she didn’t want him to change the way he looked at her. But it was impossible. It was impossible to know that she had endured all of that and not regret some of the things he had done to her. The ways that he had approached her. Impossible not to want to modify the way he was with her moving forward. And abso-damn-lutely impossible not to look at her with a newfound respect.
“You’re strong,” he said again. “You really are.” Maybe she did believe that now, but he didn’t see any problem with saying it again.
“I’m a victim,” she returned, the word flat. “It’s hard to feel any pride about that.”
“You were victimized,” he said. “But then you took action. You changed your life. You changed your situation. You shouldn’t define all of who you are by something that was done to you. Look at all the things you’ve done for yourself. What you are is strong. What you are is a survivor. You’re Alison,” he said simply, except it wasn’t simple at all. She was so many things, contained in one person. “You make a mean pie, you help other people. You give a fantastic blow job.”
That made her laugh. “I hope they put that on my gravestone.”
“Hell, it’s honest. I’m gonna remember all those things about you a hell of a lot more than I’m going to remember something some prick did to you because he was a weak, sad asshole.”
“I like the way you think. Of course, I’m not sure that’s the way it is with the rest of the town. But that’s why I stayed. Well, there are a few reasons. But that’s one of them. I didn’t want him to have the final say on how people remembered me. And if I had slunk out of town after the Garretts’ Fourth of July barbecue years ago, after he came and got in my face in front of half the town... Then that’s what they would remember. I’m trying to rewrite the story. Write a new ending.”
“You’re doing a damn fine job of it.”
“Thank you. And, if I may say, I’m enjoying the chapter that you’re adding. Though it’s making my life story rated X, it’s going to make it a much racier memoir.”
Just that statement brought back a rush of memory that made his blood run hotter, faster. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“It is. It’s a new wonderful experience to want to have sex with a guy just because I want him. And not because of anything else. A physical-only affair is basically the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I haven’t been the best thing that happened to anybody in a long time. Maybe ever. I’ll take it.”
She smiled at him then, and he felt it resonate somewhere deeper inside of him. Maybe because he was so aware now of how hard-won those smiles were. Of how far a journey she had been on to get them back. Maybe just because they somehow felt more valuable. Because he understood them. Because he understood her.
That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it had. He couldn’t even bring himself to be sorry about it.
“I’m certainly enjoying you. I’ll probably see you... Maybe not tomorrow. Violet is off. But maybe I’ll see you in a couple of days?”
He wanted to say he’d see her tomorrow. He wanted to make it definitive. Wanted to separate the reasons that they were coming together even more from the situation with Violet, from convenience. Because this wasn’t about convenience for him. Not anymore. It was just about Alison. He wanted her. Not some other woman. He couldn’t pretend that he wanted her simply because she was the easiest to access either. Not now. Not with everything he knew about her. She was amazing. Incredible. Generous in ways that he knew had to cost her.
He wanted her. No one else.
But he wasn’t going to say that.
“Yeah. Feel free to text me or call me. I’ll just be here. Working.”
“Well, I’ll be at the bakery. Baking.”
“Sounds good.”
She nodded. “See you around, Cain.”
Then she straightened, and turned and walked out of the barn. And Cain was left standing there, feeling once again like his life had changed completely, and not quite able to figure out how.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS DIFFICULT to walk into girls’ night with her head held high, considering that she felt she had last night’s activities written all over her face.
But everything was all set up in Rebecca’s store, the Trading Post. Wine, scones, some sort of phyllo dough-wrapped appetizer compliments of Lane, and Alison had brought the pie. There was no avoiding the place, there was no avoiding her friends.
And, really, she might as well broadcast it. Lane already knew, and if she hadn’t gone and spilled the beans, Alison would be surprised. In Lane’s position she might have, she had to admit. Because good, sex-centered gossip was very hard to pass up.
And in the end, she was going to tell them about it anyway. It was just that... She would kinda prefer to wait until everything had died down. Until the affair was over. Until she had done her moping over the loss of Cain—because no matter that she was doing her best to keep her feelings from becoming involved, she would mope in the end, because the loss of sex this good could only ever be tragic. Yeah, she would rather wait until then.
That, however, required a little bit more finesse, and a little bit more smoothness than she possessed. So instead, as soon as she walked through the door by way of greeting she said, “Yes, I had sex. Please issue questions one at a time.”
Surprisingly, there were no questions asked. Instead, her three friends stared at her with their mouths wide-open.
“Really? You three are all up in my business when I don’t want your input, and now that I’ve come in making proclamations you have nothing?”
“In fairness,” Lane s
aid, “it’s a little bit of a surprising announcement.”
“You knew already,” she said. “And I don’t believe for one second that you didn’t tell.”
Lane gasped—a little bit overdramatic in Alison’s opinion. “I did not. I was going to allow you to tell everyone on your own. Which I suppose you just did.”
“Stop acting wounded. If I hadn’t announced it tonight, you would have done it in the next few hours.”
Lane lifted a shoulder. “True.”
“I’ve eliminated all the meaningful glances and winking and nodding before the grand confession. I have confessed. I am having a purely sexual relationship with Cain Donnelly. It is amazing.”
Rebecca blinked. “Wow.”
Cassie smiled. “Well-done.”
“Yes. I thought so. And, the best part is I’m able to help him figure out some of the issues with his relationship with his daughter, and I get what I want too.”
“That really does sound like a no-strings relationship,” Lane said, her tone comically serious. “I think you’re well on track to everything going completely smoothly and not developing feelings for him.”
“I didn’t say I don’t have feelings for him,” she returned. “He’s a really nice guy. Also, you can’t exactly feel...neutral about the guy that is putting you in a multi-orgasmic space. Warm and fuzzy feelings are certain to follow. That isn’t the same as relationship feelings though.”
“If you say so,” Lane responded.
“I do.”
“Would it be so bad to be in a relationship, Alison?” Rebecca asked gently. “I don’t want to push you. I’m the last person who wants to push you. I know what it’s like to feel...like it isn’t going to happen to you. Like it can’t. But Gage is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Kind of hilarious, since I spent a lot of years thinking that Gage was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It’s amazing what can happen when you let yourself heal.”
Alison bristled at the lecture. “I’m healed,” she insisted. “I’m really glad that for you healing took the form of forgiveness, and love eternal and all of that stuff. Really. But for me healing has meant learning to be comfortable with myself. Learning to be by myself. I’m happy to introduce sex into my life now, because celibacy was definitely getting old. But I’m not interested in sharing my independence. In giving anything of myself to somebody. And having to consult someone before I go out for the night, or figure out how to juggle someone else’s schedule and mine. I just don’t want to.” She ignored the little tug of longing inside of her that was set off by those words. Mentally, she thought it all sounded inconvenient, but something inside of her responded emotionally, and she didn’t know why that was. She didn’t like it. So she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “Right now, love for me has to be all about loving myself.”
There was an inauthenticity to that statement that had never been there before. She had said those words, those exact words to her friends in other conversations, and back then, she had believed them. Now, she wasn’t so sure what that meant. If it was even true.
“Loving yourself can be awfully lonely,” Cassie said, “though I support it in theory. I’m just not sure the loving yourself means having to be alone.”
Alison forced a smile. “I have you guys. I’m not alone. You have no idea how much this friendship means to me.” She swallowed hard. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately. Mostly because of all of this stuff with Cain. Because you can’t make a major change without...reflection and things. One of the reasons I think it was so easy for me to get lost in my marriage was that I didn’t have anyone around me to talk to. I didn’t have friends to remind me of what I was worth, when I had forgotten. I’m not alone. I have the three of you. And that has changed my life in ways that I don’t even have words for.” Suddenly, she felt emotional and precarious. Like she was standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall off. About to tumble into the sea and drown. “I’m just so thankful that you became my friends.”
Lane reached out and wrapped her arm around Alison’s shoulders. “And I’m glad that we’ve been able to do that for you. But don’t forget that you’ve done a lot for us too. You really helped me deal with everything when I was processing the changes in my relationship with Finn.”
“And threatened Gage with bodily harm when he first showed up in my life. At the time, that was very helpful,” Rebecca said, nodding.
“I would most definitely mete out bodily harm on anyone who tried to hurt one of you,” she said, her tone fierce.
“We would do the same for you,” Cassie said, “you know that. And none of us would ever encourage you to do something that we think wouldn’t be good for you.”
“I know that,” Alison said. “But, seriously. Just be happy that I’m getting laid. I am. And stop matchmaking. The idea of a relationship is... It makes me feel claustrophobic. I didn’t like that person that I used to be. The person that I am when I’m...in love or whatever.”
Rebecca shook her head. “That wasn’t love. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t. I just... I know what it’s like to feel kind of sour about it because somebody who was supposed to love you didn’t do it right. But I think it’s important to know that just because you call something love, doesn’t mean it is. My mother left us, Alison. And I spent a long time feeling like I wasn’t worthy of love because of the way my mother was able to leave me. But she was the broken one, not me.”
Alison took a deep breath. “I understand what you’re saying. And I appreciate it. It’s just different for me. We’re allowed to have different dreams, right? There isn’t only one way to be happy. And I have the bakery. I have you guys. I have all of these women that come through that I get to help. Best of all, I have tons of distance from that time in my life that was so dark. I’ve changed. I’m a different person. I’m happy with that.”
Again, she ignored the little stab of emotion in her chest.
Rebecca looked down. “I’m happy for you.” Her friend looked back up, meeting her eyes. “So, it’s good?”
Alison laughed. “That’s the beauty of a physical-only relationship. If it wasn’t good, I would be out.”
“Good point,” Lane said, her tone overly cheerful.
Alison could tell that her friends still wanted to argue the point about love. She appreciated it, she appreciated them. She also didn’t expect them to understand. They’d certainly all had traumas in their lives. Cassie had been married once before Jake, so she specifically knew what it was like to try to move on after the dissolution of something that was supposed to be permanent. But while her marriage had ended badly... It hadn’t been the same as what Alison had been through.
Her friends were wonderful. And she knew that they loved her, just like she loved them. But that didn’t mean they were right about this. It didn’t mean that they could identify with her specific situation. They were sympathetic, and as empathetic as they could be, but they didn’t know what it was like to feel so cold, brittle and fragile.
To gather up the pieces of yourself that were left and walk away. To painstakingly rebuild everything you were piece by piece.
Only she did. And she would never, ever take the chance that she might have to go back and do it again. It wasn’t Cain she didn’t trust, or men in general. It was herself.
She didn’t expect her friends to understand that either.
“I feel like we need to have some celebratory pie.”
“Because you’re having sex?” Rebecca asked.
Alison forced a smile. “No. I don’t want to celebrate that tonight. I’ll celebrate it later. With him. Right now, I want to celebrate us. Right now, I’m celebrating our friendship.”
“Well,” Lane said, “I’ll eat pie to that.”
* * *
HE WASN’T GOING to break down and call Alison. He was going
to give her space, because she seemed to want space. And if she didn’t want space, then she could close that gap herself. It didn’t have to be up to him. Anyway, he was having quality time with his brothers. Since Lane was out with her friends, even Finn had joined them.
It had taken a lot of convincing to get Cain to go out with Violet still at home. But the fact of the matter was he couldn’t hover over her all the time. He also couldn’t lock her in her room, unfortunately. Since child services frowned on things like that.
He had asked her to stay at home. He had to hope that she did.
He took a sip of beer and looked around the room. The bar was filling up, people getting in line to ride the mechanical bull, more people milling around the dartboard and mixing alcohol with sharp, pointy things, which felt like it was maybe a bad idea. He figured, however, that a lot of people went out on Friday night for the express purpose of engaging in bad ideas.
He, on the other hand, enjoyed most sitting there and judging those bad ideas.
To each his own.
Finn, who had drawn the short straw and had been brooding about it all night, leaned back in his chair, water in hand. “I’m too sober for this,” he said.
“Think of it this way,” Liam said, looking completely unrepentant. “You’ll be sober enough to make a move on your woman later.”
“I have no problem making a move on my woman whatever the state of my inebriation,” Finn said, looking angrily down into his glass. “I might at least trade this for a Coke.”
“Things are getting wild over here now,” Alex said, laughing.
“I’m surprised you weren’t busy tonight,” Finn said, leveling his gaze at Cain.
“You know,” Cain said, “maybe I’ll be the designated driver. Why don’t you have a drink, Finn?”