by J. Daniels
“I deleted them this morning.” I step back, getting out of his reach when his hands start to irritate my skin.
His mouth twitches. “Guess I deserved that,” he replies. “But if you had listened to them, you would’ve heard how sorry I was.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” I counter.
His face hardens. “Why not?”
I sigh, pinch my lips together, and cock my head at the same angle his was cocked. “Because we broke up,” I hiss, irritation spreading through me. “So you spending your weekend apologizing to me wouldn’t have mattered. You were apologizing to someone who wasn’t yours anymore.”
I try and get past him again by squeezing between him and the wall, but Richard steps over and blocks me.
He isn’t a big guy. Not nearly as big as some people . . .
But I’m little, so unless I get a running start, I don’t have a chance of pushing through.
“When the fuck did we break up?” he asks, eyes now full blown filled with confusion and searching my face. “Did you say it was over? Did I? Because I sure as fuck don’t remember telling you we were done.”
I open my mouth, ready to argue with conviction when memories flood me. My lips press together. Friday night plays back like a movie inside my head.
I'm packing my things and speaking as if Richard’s still standing in the doorway.
“You’re taking everything out on me, like I’m the one who fired you. All week you’ve been giving me shit about it. I don’t deserve that. I deserve better than that! And you know what? I bet Reed would understand if I didn’t show up this weekend, because he’s an understanding person, but you’re not! You’re expecting me to choose between you and my family. That isn’t fair. It’s not fair. But you know what? I’ll choose. You want me to choose? I’m choosing right now.”
But he wasn't standing in the doorway anymore. I knew that. He was already downstairs, in the kitchen getting another beer.
Richard didn’t say we were broken up. He said a lot of things, mean things, but he didn’t say it. And I didn’t say it. Not really. And what I did say, he didn't even hear.
Then I left. Hauled ass out of there wanting space and needing it to happen immediately. I left angry and upset and thinking we were broken up, but we weren’t because neither one of us said it.
Oh, God . . .
I slept with CJ Tully when I had a boyfriend at home waiting for me.
A boyfriend who was sorry.
A boyfriend who's been trying to contact me all weekend, but because I've kept my phone off, I didn't get his calls saying he's still my boyfriend.
Nonononono. This can’t be happening. One of us said it. I know we did.
Except we didn't.
Shit.
Shit!
I thought we were over. I should’ve gotten confirmation before storming out, but I didn’t. What's wrong with me?
“If anything, we were just on a break, which I'm not convinced of since neither one of us said we wanted that shit, but whatever,” Richard says, pressing his forearm to the wall and leaning on it. “Now you’re back so, break’s over.”
My mouth drops open. His does the thing that drew me in from the start; half of it lifting into a smile that looks both cute and inexplicably sexy. Then he pushes off from the wall, steps into me, and cups my face with both hands.
Hands that aren’t as big or rough and feel so different now that I’ve felt another’s.
“All of that shit I said and everything we’ve been fighting about, that’s not me. You know me, Riley. How long have we been doing this?”
“A long time,” I reply hoarsely.
“Year and a half,” he clarifies, making my heart feel heavy. “We’ve got roots in this. You’re the most important thing in my life. No way is a fight like that gonna tear us apart, baby. No fucking way.”
My stomach drops.
“Baby,” CJ moans when I lean over and suck him into my mouth.
“I love you, Riley.”
My lip starts trembling as tears build behind my lashes.
What have I done?
“I thought we were broken up,” I whisper with a shaky voice.
He gives me a look like he understands, but he doesn't. He can't.
“Come here.” Richard pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me, keeping one hand on the back of my head and the other low on my back. He drops his face beside mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean that shit, okay?” he whispers while stroking my hair.
Sobs vibrate in my throat and rattle inside my chest. My tears soak into his shirt as arms that aren’t as strong as another’s comfort me when they should be pushing me away.
I can’t hold Richard back. I can’t tell him what I’ve done.
And when he asks if I love him with his lips against my ear, I can’t lie and tell him I don’t.
Like he said, we have roots in this.
I’ve only ever loved one man outside of my family. And Richard is it. He’s my first in a lot of ways. And you don’t easily let go of your first.
So I nod, not being able to say the words out loud, but instead, giving him my answer with my head buried in his chest.
He grips the back of my neck and brings his other hand between us to lift my chin, then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me the way he always kisses me, slow and full of tongue and with lips that are familiar, and I force myself to kiss him back because this is the mouth I should be kissing. And when it feels off and not right, I grow determined and slide my hands to his neck to pull him closer. I roll up onto my toes, slant my mouth against his, and go for it.
“I’m having a real hard time not kissing you right now.”
I break away choking on a sob.
“Jesus, Ri,” Richard laughs as I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. “You trying to swallow my tongue or something?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, looking up at him.
I feel sick and disgusting. I feel ashamed.
And I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.
A half smile hits me with eyes that are ignorant to my disgrace. Richard pulls a strand of my hair between his thumb and two fingers, studies it, then bends down and runs his nose along my temple.
I hear him inhale and I panic, quickly stepping back and getting out of his arms.
I know who I smell like.
“I need to shower. I probably still have sand on me,” I lie, playing it up by brushing off my arms and the tops of my legs.
This time Richard lets me pass with a, “Cool, babe,” because he knows I’m not going to get my stuff.
Because I’m not moving out.
Because we’re still together.
Because we were never broken up.
We were never broken up.
I scramble into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Then, after yanking open the shower curtain and turning on the water, I tug my phone out of my back pocket and scroll to the number that was programmed in it this morning.
While I was in bed, naked, with a big charming man sprawled over me, smelling like a mixture of sweat and sex.
The same mixture that is currently clinging to my skin.
“Tully.”
I turn away from the door and wipe at my face.
“It’s me,” I reply, keeping my voice down just in case.
“Jesus,” CJ murmurs. “Your voice on the phone is hot as shit, darlin’. Say something else to me.”
“I can’t do this.”
There’s a pause, then a breathy laugh breaks through the line. “Not exactly what I had in mind,” he says before exhaling forcefully. “Right. Is this your nerves getting to you again? What’d I say about that?”
“No,” I answer. “It’s not my nerves.”
“Then what the fuck happened?”
I begin pacing the small room, going back and forth between the toilet and the door as I explain.
“We weren’t broken up. I thought we were b
ut we weren’t. We were on a break, I guess, but that isn't the same thing. We’re still together. And I . . . slept with you. I slept with you when I had a boyfriend back at home.”
“Did more than just sleep with me,” CJ points out.
I close my eyes for a breath. “I know. But I wouldn’t have done that if I thought Richard and I were still together. I’m not like that. I’m not that kinda girl. I swear.”
My lip starts trembling again. I press my fingertips to it and bite back tears.
“I know that. I never thought you were, babe,” he says. His voice is rougher now. “So what are you telling me? Are you staying with this guy?”
“I have to.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” CJ growls. “Is he forcing you to stay? Give me your address. I’m thirty minutes out.”
“No. That’s not what I meant. He’s not forcing me,” I quickly reply.
Sheesh. He sounds ready to kill.
I stop in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection. My eyes are red and puffy and glistening with tears. “It’s just, we’ve been together for a long time and I don’t know if I’m ready to let go of that yet,” I confess.
I watch my lips form my next words.
“I love him.”
CJ breathes tensely in my ear. “Hope it works out,” he mutters.
“Really?” I ask, frowning.
“Don’t ask me that shit. And what the fuck do you want me to say?”
God, he’s right. What am I doing?
“Sorry,” I rush out. “Sorry. That was stupid. I just, I can’t believe this happened.” I hold my hand to my cheek and shake my head, looking down at the sink.
“I’m gonna let you go,” CJ says, talking about the phone call. I’m sure of it.
“Wait, um.” I flatten my hand on the counter. My bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t tell anyone what happened this weekend. Okay? Please. Especially not Reed. I don’t want it getting back to Richard.”
“You’re not telling him?”
I shake my head as if he can see me. My silence gives me away.
“That’s on you, babe,” CJ points out. “Kinda fucked up if you ask me, but you’re not asking.”
“I’d rather just pretend it didn’t happen,” I return. “And I think it would be best if we forget about each other . . . in that way. You know?”
“Yeah. That’s not happening.”
I lift my eyes to my reflection again and watch my brows pull together. “Uh . . . sorry, what?”
CJ clears his throat, then goes on to elaborate. “You can forget about me in that way all you want, or you can try and convince yourself that’s what you’re doing but I’m telling you now, Riley, I am not forgetting you. I got a taste of something I want more of and a taste like that, babe, there’s no forgetting.”
I pinch my eyes shut. I don’t want my cheating heart to start warming right now but that’s exactly what happens.
I try my best to ignore it.
Shaking my head, I return my gaze to the mirror. “I don’t really know what to say to that,” I admit, giving him my honesty.
“You don’t need to say anything. I’m just letting you know how it is,” CJ retorts. “Now, you making a choice means I need to back off, and even though I’m not feeling that choice, I’ll respect it.”
“Thank you.” I smile a little, liking his attitude about this. “And I’d really like us to stay friends.”
“Now you’re pushing it.”
My smile disappears and I’m back to frowning. “Huh?”
“I don’t do that,” he throws out.
“You don’t do what?” I question with a little sass.
He better not tell me he doesn’t have female acquaintances. Beth and him are tight. I know this for a fact.
“I don’t keep friends with women who have had my dick in their mouth,” CJ shares.
Oh . . .
Another fact, Beth has absolutely not done that. I would’ve been told about it.
This is different, but it’s something I want, and it should be entirely possible. Why can’t this work?
“Well, just pretend I didn’t do that,” I suggest.
“Do you need a reminder of the conversation we had not a minute ago?” he asks. “I’m not forgetting shit, Riley.”
“Okay. Then . . . I guess we won’t be friends.” I feel my shoulders drop as I look to the door, then at the shower I’m supposed to be standing in. I sigh, telling him, “I should go.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles, voice tight. “Fine, goddamn it. We’ll be friends.”
Hope flutters in my stomach. “Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, really. But just remember, you wanted this. So when the Tully charm doesn’t wash off, I don’t want to hear shit about it.”
I feel my forehead crease with a wrinkle. “All righty,” I reply, not knowing how else to respond to that when I hardly understand it. “I really should go so, um, thanks for being so cool about this.”
CJ chuckles. “Yeah. Sure thing.”
I disconnect the call before he has the chance to throw out another ‘darlin’’. I’m not sure I can handle that right now. Then I quickly dial up Beth.
“Hello?”
“We were on a break!” I harshly whisper into the phone, pressing my free-hand against my stomach when it rolls with nausea. “Not broken up. Oh, my God. I feel like Ross.”
Only my life is not a hilarious sitcom.
Reality sucks.
“What?” A shuffling noise comes through the line. “Wait, Reed, hold on a minute. Stop.”
He grumbles, low and annoyed-sounding, then I hear his gruff voice ask an impatient, “Who is it?”
Most likely against some body-part of Beth’s.
“Oh, crap. Am I interrupting honeymoon time?” I ask, wincing away from the shower. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re fine,” she assures me before whispering, “It’s your sister.”
“She can call back,” Reed says.
“I can call back,” I echo.
“What do you mean, you weren’t really broken up?” Beth asks, ignoring us both. “So, you and Richard are still together? Is that what you want? You guys have been fighting a lot.”
“Just because of the whole job thing,” I reply quickly. “I want to be with him. I love him. I just . . . feel really terrible.”
“Why?”
I bite my lip. “Uh . . .”
Beth doesn’t know about my weekend with CJ. Nobody knows. Reed sure as hell doesn’t. And if I discuss this with Beth right now, there’s a chance he could overhear every single detail of my unfaithfulness.
And then go after CJ . . .
And get his ass beat.
I rush out a breath. “Nothing. I don’t know. I just, wish I would’ve clarified our situation before I left.” I try and peer at my reflection again, to see the guilt on my face, but condensation clouds the mirror. I rub at the dampness beading up on my neck.
“I don’t think you have any reason to feel terrible, Riley.”
I close my eyes. You have no idea what I’ve done.
“And you’re not Ross,” she laughs. “Ross messed up big time.”
I wince. My heart grows ten times heavier.
Beth giggles away from the phone, and says something I can’t make out to my brother.
They’re in love. Blissfully married and in honeymoon mode.
And I’m interrupting them.
“Okay. Go get back to whatever you were doing. I’ll talk to you later.”
We end the call with my new sister smiling through her farewell. I can’t. Fresh tears well up in my eyes.
Then I finally strip and get my butt in the shower.
I have Tully charm to wash off.
I TOSS A few steaks into my cart, having finally decided on dinner, then head for the checkout so I can get out of here and get home to cook up some food.
The way Food Giant is laid out, if I’m coming from the meat
department I gotta cut through produce to get to the front of the store. Normally that isn’t a problem. What the fuck do I care? I like produce.
But today, when I turn the corner and catch sight of Riley standing near a crate that happens to be in the path I'm heading, it becomes a problem.
A major fucking problem.
Fuck. You gotta be shitting me.
Two years of living in Ruxton and not once do I remember ever seeing this girl around.
Yeah, I missed an opportunity a year ago. But shit, that doesn’t even count, considering I don’t remember it. And for some fucked in the head reason, I didn’t even look at her during that run-in, but other than that? Not once have I ever seen Riley. Not on my lunch break when I was grabbing a sandwich. Not while I was shopping for food. Nowhere. Hell, I’ve spent most of my two years here not knowing she even existed. Even after I knew about her, I still never saw her around.
Ruxton isn’t heavily populated. It’s a small town. You remember faces. And anyone living and breathing sure as hell would remember hers.
Sweet face like that, with those eyes and the way she burns you up with them, you gotta be blind not to notice.
But aside from that one time, I was never given the opportunity.
Two years of not knowing. Not even so much as a glance in her direction. Then I spend a weekend with my dick buried inside Riley Tennyson and now I’m suddenly running into her at supermarkets? What the fuck is this shit?
Stopping a few feet away, I grip the cart with one hand and rake my other down my face, scrubbing over the stubble coating my jaw.
I’m supposed to be friends with this girl. That’s what she wants. And when friends run into each other at supermarkets they say shit to one another. They don’t contemplate ducking out and going unseen, which is exactly what I’m doing.
Only this is different. I’ve touched Riley. Tasted her. A taste I’m not expecting to forget any time soon. A taste I want more of, no matter if she's available to give it to me or not. Don't care. I can't turn it off.
And I sure as fuck don’t want to be friends with her. Not after everything we’ve done.