by Roya Carmen
Maddie beams when she asks, “You and uncle Blake are friends again?”
I smile. “Sorta… but he still annoys me.”
Jake, who is helping with the table, laughs. “He annoys everybody.”
“In a good way,” Maddie tells me.
“Do you like roast beef, Jake,” I ask.
“Love it.”
“So are you and uncle Blake boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Maddie asks, curious.
Uh…
Marilyn shoots me a playful smile. “Yes, Maeve, tell us… are you and uncle Blake boyfriend and girlfriend?”
I’m speechless. She knows we’re not. She must know we’re just fucking.
“More like friends with benefits,” Momma chimes in. She’s busy peeling potatoes but apparently not too busy to embarrass me.
“Momma!” I scoff.
Maddie cocks a brow. “What’s friends with benefits?”
Marilyn shakes her head and gives Momma the stink eye, as if to say, “What are you thinking… the kids.”
Momma has the tendency to say inappropriate things. All. The. Time.
Momma laughs. “It means friends who get to play together,” she tells Maddie.
Marilyn slaps a hand to her face, mortified. “Just don’t go around saying that, Maddie. It’s for grown-ups. Like when grown-ups play together.”
Maddie seems confused but she lets it go, thankfully.
Friends with benefits. Is that what Blake and I are? I wish. Friends with benefits implies that you do it over and over again. For us, it was just a one-time thing. A one-week thing. Maybe, if I lived here, we could be. No, we couldn’t. I know I couldn’t stand seeing him traipse around with other women, knowing he’s not mine. I’d want him all to myself.
I’m thinking about him when he finally makes an appearance. He’s with Mandy who looks super cute in ripped jeans and a Wonder Woman t-shirt and matching pumps. I’ve always loved the way Mandy dresses. She orders most of it on-line since there are no clothing stores in Westbrooke. I could never do that. I need to try everything on, see myself in the flesh, especially with shoes.
She goes in for a hug as soon as she spots me. Blake eyes me shyly, and we’re all awkward when we say hello. We actually shake hands. Who are we kidding? Everyone must know we’re sleeping together.
He smiles when he hands me a tin of Pringles – Pizza flavored. “I grabbed these from the store. I thought you could get out of your comfort zone and get a little wild tonight.”
I laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m going to eat the whole tin.”
Mandy studies us with a confused expression, and leaves us to go hug Momma. They quickly catch up. Momma’s always super nosy when it comes to Mandy’s love life, or lack thereof. She’s even tried to play matchmaker – with her and Tim. They seem to like each other but they’re both painfully shy. They rarely exchange more than a few words.
Mandy’s sweet on him, as I’m sure many women are, but Tim is blind to his effect on the ladies. He’s always been peculiar; obsessed with cars and trucks since he was a toddler, incredibly intelligent. He mastered the Rubik’s cube when he was six. He loves Sudoku and watching CSI. His garage and his dog – that’s all he seems to need.
I’ll catch him once or twice, eyeing Mandy, but he never lingers too long, probably for fear that she might catch him.
Blake is playing with Jake on the floor – Jenga. Jake is obsessed with that game these days. Blake looks up at me and smiles mischievously as we share a secret, as if he’s saying, “How hot was that, this morning?”
Hot…
God, I wish I could have him one last time. But tonight’s about my family, and I leave tomorrow morning. And then there’s Peter. I don’t even know what to think when it comes to Peter. I don’t know where we’re going.
Mandy inches closer to me. She holds two bottles of wine, a red and a white. “You’re sleeping with my brother again, aren’t you?” she says in hushed tones.
I smile, guilty as charged. “How did you know?”
“Just the way you two are looking at each other,” she says. “You can feel the sexual tension from across the room.”
“Really?”
She laughs, that sweet giggle I remember fondly. “Everyone knows. No use in trying to hide it.”
I shrug. “Well, it’s over. It was just a fun thing… a one week thing.”
She nods and bites her lip. “One week, eh?”
“Yes, one week.” I reply, my words clipped.
She turns away. “Whatever you say, Freckles.”
29
WE ENJOY A FEAST; Momma’s tender roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, a carrot stir-fry, Yorkshire pudding, and a garden salad. The wine flows, and so does the conversation. The focus has shifted from Blake and I, to Marilyn and Brian and their family and business. Every now and then, Blake smiles at me from across the table. I easily get lost in his dark eyes. I could live until I’m a hundred years old, and I’ll never see eyes like his again; dark as coal, almond shaped, lashes to die for. There’s something very exotic about them. They’re his father’s eyes, eyes I remember from a long time ago.
John Taylor was part Cree, and it was easy to see his heritage in his dark eyes and hair. Blake looks the most like his father, although he’s inherited his mother’s light complexion. Mandy and Brian both resemble their late mother. My gaze is pulled away from Blake, caught in the laughter surrounding the table. Momma is at it again. She’s telling a story about her friend Annabeth. Apparently, Annabeth’s granddaughter found some rather incriminating toys in her bedside table.
“What kind of toys?” Jake asks.
Marilyn slaps a hand to her face again. I laugh out loud.
The doorbell rings. You can’t miss it, even over the laughter. It might possibly be the loudest doorbell in North America.
Momma’s laughter fades, and she cocks a brow in confusion. She checks her watch. “I wonder who that could be… at this time.” She’s quick to stand. “Better not be that annoying furnace salesman again.”
We all sit silently, curious, forks in hand, half-eaten slices of blueberry pie. We hear chatter, but it’s not quite loud enough for me to clue in. About a minute later, she walks in with a tight smile, Peter just behind her.
My stomach drops. I set my fork down. My pulse races at the sight of him. We haven’t seen each other since the morning of the wedding. He never saw my wedding gown. I was convinced it would be bad luck. It all comes back again, it sweeps over me; the confusion, the disappointment, and the heartbreak. I know he’s explained himself, but I still don’t quite understand what happened.
I catch Blake’s reaction – it’s unreadable. They’ve actually never met before, but I’m sure Blake knows who he is.
Peter’s gaze darts across the table and he’s met with serious quiet faces. Everyone pretty much hates him now and I don’t think that fact is lost on him. His gaze settles on Blake and he studies him curiously, and then he stares at me for a swift second, and I see the realization cross his features. He knows we’re fucking. Or at least he suspects it.
My knees feel wobbly when I stand. “Let’s go talk,” I say and walk around the table to greet him.
I lead him back outside to the front porch where we can have the most privacy. It’s a mess out here; dirty boots line one side of the railing, a myriad of plants hang from the covered porch, and more pots line the stairs. The antique swing waits for us, but we don’t sit on it.
“You didn’t reply to any of my messages,” he says simply. There is no other explanation needed. I’ve been ignoring him, so he’s resorted to coming here to see me. We were together for seven years – it’s not that crazy.
“I miss you so much,” he tells me. He’s still handsome; his wavy sandy blond hair falls perfectly over his forehead, and his blue eyes are just as I remember. He’s wearing my favorite shirt, the one I bought him for his birthday, with the blue pattern that make his eyes pop.
“I’m so sorry,” he goes o
n and closes the distance between us. He’s so close, I can smell his cologne – Acqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani. “I should have never done that to you. I’ve regretted it every single day ever since. I freaked, Maeve.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Give me another chance,” he begs. “I’ll make it up to you. We can go back to where we started.”
“You mean… get married?”
“Uh… I mean, to where we started. We could start over.”
He still doesn’t want to marry me. Or maybe he does. I’m so confused.
I look away and study the old swing, deteriorated and threatening to break apart any minute. “I don’t think—”
“Is it Blake?” he scoffs. “Are you going to throw away a seven year relationship over some high school crush? I saw all your pics on Instagram. You two’ve been having a great old time, haven’t you?”
I draw a breath. No, despite the fact that Blake is hotter than sin, and the sex is mind-blowing, this isn’t about him. It’s about being left at the altar, surrounded by all my friends and family, mortified and feeling like shit on the sole of a shoe. “This isn’t about him.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just…” he falters. “I just got really worked up when I saw those photos of you. That’s because I still care about you, Maeve. So much.”
He grabs my hand and draws me in closer. “It’s okay if you and him… I deserve it. But now, I want you to come back with me.”
My heart skips a beat. His touch still affects me. It feels familiar, comforting, and reminds me of all the moments we’ve shared, all those other times he’s held my hand.
Could we make this work again? I just don’t know. I’m excited about returning to my other life. About the job I might get, about seeing my friends again. “Well, I am coming back home tomorrow, but not with you. I… I can’t promise anything, Peter, but…” I can’t quite seem to get the words out. “We can go out for dinner, maybe, and see how things go.”
His face lights up – I’ve made his day. He’s right. I can’t just throw away seven years over one day. He got spooked, that’s all. No one is perfect.
I’m looking at his wide smile when I see, just past his shoulder, Momma in the window, snooping. Maddie and Jake too. And Mandy.
Have they no shame? As soon as they see me spot them, they all jerk away.
I shake my head. “There is no such thing as privacy around here,” I tell Peter.
He laughs. “I remember,” he says. “Annoying as hell.”
“You should go now,” I tell him, knowing that my family won’t suddenly morph into the welcoming committee if he steps back inside. “I’ll call you.”
He waves a hand as he steps into his shiny silver BMW. He’s happy. I’ve obviously given him hope. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
As soon as I get back inside, everyone seems suddenly very busy. “You guys are something else… Stop spying on me.”
Mandy smiles playfully. She has the same impish grin her brother has. I’d love to wipe it off her face. “So what’s the deal? Are you two getting back together?” she asks. I catch a glimpse of Blake who seems confused, hurt, and curious. I wish he weren’t here. I wish he hadn’t witnessed Peter’s sudden act of desperation.
“It’s complicated,” I tell her.
Blake turns on his heel and walks out of the room.
I know he’s hurt. I suppose he cares more than I assumed. According to Mandy, her brother is out every weekend with a different girl. Why am I not just another lay to him? Is it our shared history? Is that all it is?
The truth is… I still don’t trust Blake. I trust Peter. Sure, Peter acted like a total coward and freaked out at the most crucial time, but not once, have I ever worried about him stepping out on me. He’s an attractive man, but he’s not a charmer like Blake. Heads don’t spin when he walks into a room.
Something about that makes me feel safe.
The back door slams. Blake has stormed off in a huff. He used to do that occasionally, back in the day. He likes to come through the front door, and storm out through the back.
I run after him, as fast as my heels will take me. He’s fast. He turns his head in my direction but chooses not to stop. He plows on ahead, so angry. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s upset about – Peter. I finally catch up to him, and grab his wrist. “Stop.”
He stops reluctantly. His mouth is a tight line and his beautiful eyes are black. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Obviously I already know, but I want him to tell me.
“What do you think, Sherlock?” He sets off to go again, but I pull at his arm. He turns to me. “You’ve had your fun, slumming it with me for a while, just like old times, but now it’s time to get back to Parker and his fancy-ass car. To your better life. I get it.” He tears himself away from me and heads toward his house.
“It’s complicated,” I try to explain.
“It’s not complicated,” he says. “We were just fucking, I get it. Parker’s the one you’re engaged to.” We’re trudging through his backyard and I’m suddenly taken back to so long ago, when we’d spend hours playing back here. The old tire swing still hangs from the large maple. That old shed is still standing, and so is the old swing set his dad built. His fishing boat sits in its usual spot.
I run after him again, and when I catch up to him, he takes me by surprise when he grabs my arm. “What do you want from me?”
“I…” My heart is pounding so hard. “I… I don’t know. I just want to make sure we’re all right. I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”
He pulls me to him and wraps his hands in my hair. He pulls at it as he draws me in closer, draws me in for a kiss. I get lost in him. I rub the palms of my hands against his neatly trimmed beard, savoring the taste of his mouth. I want him one last time. God, I want him.
He pulls away. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, breathless. “Is this ending on a good note?”
I bury my hands in his hair and pull him back to me. I melt into him when he kisses me again. He grabs my ass and presses me hard against him. I want him to take me inside. I tear my mouth from his. “Take me to your room,” I beg. “Please.”
He trails a hand under the skirt of my dress, toys with my panties. “Nah…” he says.
My eyes grow wide, and my stomach feels like stone. He’s saying no.
“Nah,” he says. “Beds are for you and Parker. You and I… we just fuck, don’t we. Beds are not for us.” He pulls at the band of my panties, and with one swift motion, he slides them over the curve of my ass. I swallow and close my eyes. I let him do this, right in the middle of his backyard, where anyone can see us. I let him because it feels so good. I throw my head back when he slides his hand over my sex.
That’s when I grab onto his wrist and steady his hand. “We need to stop.”
“Why?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “Afraid Parker might see? Hey, why don’t you snap a pic for your Instagram, or are we not doing that anymore?”
I pull away from him but he’s quick to grab my arm. “Come with me,” he says, his voice soft. He takes my hand and leads me out back, toward the shed. I hike my panties back up with one hand and follow eagerly, not quite sure what he’s up to.
When we reach the shed, he swings the door open and pulls me in. He slams the door behind us, and we find ourselves in almost total darkness. It’s cold and damp. The full moon shines through the windows and gives us a bit of light. The small enclosed space is a mess; tools on one wall, lawnmower, tons of fishing gear, a stack of tires, and a table topped with bottles and cans. There’s barely standing room for the two of us. He spins me around and presses me against the door. It smells of peeling paint and rotten wood.
He presses his hot mouth on my neck. “Is this what you want?”
30
I THROW MY HEAD BACK against his shoulder. “Yes…” I whisper, but it comes out as a moan, a desperate whimper.
“I’m going to give you the best fuck of your
life.” He drops to his knees and buries his head under my skirt. He trails soft hot kisses up my legs as he slides my panties slowly down. “When you’re laying with Parker, in your fancy silky sheets, and he can’t make you come, you think about this.” His words melt into the flesh of my ass and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I step out of my panties, one shaking leg at a time. “Yes…” I breathe.
He comes to a stand again and presses both his hands on either side of my head, holding me hostage. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
He pulls me hard against him, and before I can even think of what’s happening, I’m hiked up against him, and he’s inside me, one hand sliding down my clit. In mere seconds, he makes me come, and I know that he’s right.
I probably won’t ever be able to stop thinking about this. Remembering this. And wanting this.
Love is the rose. Lust is the thorn. – Sri Sathya Sai Baba
Dear Journal,
My friend, Corrie, says that all the best lovers are bad boys. She says her husband (soon-to-be ex) is a bad boy and even though she hates him most of the time, she still can’t get enough of him.
Why is that? Why can’t the good boys be as good in bed? Peter has always been an okay lover. I never realized he was just okay, until I had a taste of Blake. But what’s so great about amazing sex? There’s a lot more to life than amazing sex. Stability, loyalty, commitment, and knowing your heart won’t be played with and broken at every turn.
I suppose even good boys can break your heart. Peter surely did when he left me at the church.
How am I supposed to go back to him after what I’ve just lived with Blake? I’ll remember that shed for the rest of my life.
Does Blake care more than he lets on? He seemed really hurt by the fact that I just wanted sex, that this meant nothing more to me. I play a good game, but he must know that I’m full of it. Of course, it’s not just sex, of course it means more. He knows me. He knows how I’m wired. He should know that. I’ve been trying so hard to pretend I don’t care, I guess I’ve succeeded.