by Lex Martin
I crack open the door to Izzy’s bedroom and see her sleeping before I check in on Kat, who fell asleep reading her Kindle.
After I devour my food and take a quick shower, I collapse on the couch in the office and turn on the TV. I want to sleep with Kat, but I’m in a bad mood, so I settle for sleeping on the shitty couch. I decide to tell her what happened tonight because she should know this is part of what I do. It’s not like I’m hiding anything from her.
Once I make that decision, I start to relax and doze off, but then a warm body slides over me and a sweet voice whispers in my ear. “Wanna snuggle?”
I clear my throat. “If snuggling is code for fucking, then yes.”
She laughs. God, that laugh. It instantly erases my foul mood.
I wrap my arms around her. “I’m kidding. We don’t have to have sex. But yes, I want to snuggle.” Especially after the distance that’s grown between us these last few days.
Her thighs come to rest on either side of my stomach, and she nuzzles against my neck. “We could call it a snuggle fuck.” She giggles. “Where snuggling turns into sex. That’s probably the best kind of cuddling.”
My cock couldn’t agree more. Especially when she presses herself against it.
“I missed you tonight,” she whispers. “I miss you every night.”
My hands still. Everything from work comes rushing back to me, and suddenly I need to tell her what happened before we get naked.
“What’s wrong?” She swallows. She’s quiet a long moment before she says, “You don’t have to tell me you missed me too. That was probably a stupid thing to say.”
I sit up but keep her on my lap. Her hair is wild around her shoulders, and it pains me that she thinks I didn’t miss her.
Wrapping my hand behind her neck, I shake my head. “Of course I missed you. That’s not why I got quiet.” My thumb rubs against her soft cheek. “Something happened tonight. I don’t know if it’s going to bother you, but I thought I should mention it.”
She sits up straighter and looks at me with so much vulnerability in her eyes, it breaks my heart a little.
“What happened?”
“Don’t get freaked out. It’s not a big deal. You know I do tattoos. Well, I also do piercings, and I just realized I had never mentioned that to you before. And tonight, a woman came in to get her nipples pierced, and I wasn’t sure if that would bother you.”
Kat’s head tilts down, and with only the TV on, her face is shrouded in darkness. “Okay,” she says hesitantly. “Is that all? You pierced her?”
“Yeah. That’s it. Oh, and she grabbed a Sharpie and wrote her number on my hand. I was in shock or I would’ve pulled away.”
I brush the hair out of Kat’s face and then hold up my hand so she can see the writing.
Then she surprises me. “Why are you telling me this?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d be tempted to think her blank expression means she doesn’t care. Except Kat always cares. About everything. Even my dumb ass.
“I guess I wanted to know if that bothers you. If you were okay with me piercing people. Most of the time, it’s piercing ears or some guy’s nipple, but sometimes girls come in for more exotic things.”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “Are you planning to call her?”
What the fuck? “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
She shrugs, her expression sad. “Because I get that we’re not really together, and you can do what you want, I guess.”
My grip on her hip tightens, but before I can say anything, her shoulders slump. “Are we setting ourselves up for trouble?” She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Are we too different?”
“What does that mean?” A heaviness settles on me, a sinking sensation I haven’t felt in a while. Not since Kat and I started whatever this is. Her eyes travel over me, over my tattoos, and I get what she’s trying to say before she even puts words to the sentiment.
She shakes her head. “You’re leaving soon. And with what happened tonight... Am I keeping you from exploring other options?”
I scrub my face, not sure if I should be pissed or amused.
At least I’m not alone in this. Feeling this confused.
“Let’s just clear up this shit right now. Number one, yes, I fucking missed you. Two, I would never go out with anyone or mess around with another woman while I’m with you, and three, we might as well call a spade a spade because God knows I’d fucking kill any man who laid a finger on you. So if it’s okay with you, while we’re doing this, we’re monogamous. Cool?” Yeah, so basically two and three are the same thing. I wanted to tell her that fuck yes, we’re in a relationship, but mid-rant I realized I couldn’t because that would lead her on.
She just stares at me in that hypnotic way that makes me feel slightly dizzy.
I pull her closer. “I’m not really a casual sex kind of guy, Kat.” Sure, I’ve had it, but I’ve always preferred being in a relationship. “What we have here, this is special to me.” I want to say more, but I don’t. I shouldn’t.
Finally, she nods and bites that lip again, only this time it’s to hide a smile. Then she whispers, “I have a way we can forget all about Shana Boobalicious.”
And then she grabs my hand, the one with the phone number on it, lifts her shirt and places it on her breast as she arches into me.
I laugh, relieved that I didn’t hurt her feelings, and put every ounce of emotion I can behind the kiss I give her. “Who the fuck is Shana?”
48
Katherine
This has become my favorite thing, eavesdropping on Brady while he puts Izzy to bed. Tonight, he’s serenading her with Baby, It’s Cold Outside. And he’s terrible, like totally off key, but oh, my God, he’s adorable.
I close my eyes as I imagine him bent over her crib, stroking her soft little tufts of hair. Sometimes he rocks her to sleep. He bought her a little night light, a turtle that projects stars on the sky, and he tells her stories about the constellations and Greek gods. She likes the one he tells her about beautiful Princess Andromeda.
When he closes out his off-key song, my heart flutters in my chest.
“Night night, sweet pea.” His deep voice comes through the monitor, and then I hear the distinct sound of him kissing her, probably on her forehead.
I shouldn’t do this to myself. I shouldn’t focus on all of the things I love about him. I shouldn’t focus on how much he adores his niece or how he slaves all day here at the farm before he works half the night at the tattoo shop. I shouldn’t care this much. But I do.
When he comes out of the nursery, I hold out his hot chocolate, unable to hold in my grin.
He clears his throat. “Don’t laugh. I know I can’t sing.” He watches me over the lip of his mug as he takes a sip.
“Izzy loves it when you sing.” I put air quotes around the word, and he shakes his head. I don’t grab him or wrap him in a hug the way I want to. I don’t tell him how much I love seeing him and Izzy together or that I’d love to pack us a picnic and take her to the park this weekend. Boundaries.
His big palm rubs the stubble on his chin. Out of the blue, he says, “I hate leaving you guys.”
My heart thuds wildly in my chest until I realize he’s talking about heading off to work. Not about returning to Boston. Duh.
Forcing a smile, I whisper. “Gotta do what ya gotta do.”
When he puts the mug on the counter behind me, he pauses to kiss my forehead. “I have a guy who wants double sleeves, and even though we’re still finalizing his design, I’ll probably work on him until late, so don’t wait up.”
I want to tell him that I won’t. That despite our little chat about Shana Boobalicious a few nights ago, I’m trying really hard not to have any expectations. Which means I’ve been forcing myself to go to bed at a decent hour and not wait up for him. Because the word he used to describe us was ‘monogamous.’ Not ‘in a relationship’ or ‘committed’ or ‘in love.’ There’s a difference, and Brady’s a s
mart enough guy that I suspect he was very specific about his word choice.
I know I need to distance my heart. That phone call with his parents was the wake-up call I needed. Because a couple in a relationship would discuss the awkwardness that ensued after his mom brought up Dani. But we didn’t discuss it. In fact, he’s been uncomfortable around me all week.
Deep down, I realize I shouldn’t have jumped his bones the other night, but I missed him. Even now, even when he’s standing two feet away, I miss him so much my heart hurts.
I shake my head. “Before I forget, Mrs. Mac is watching the baby tomorrow evening so I can do some holiday shopping.” His head cants slightly, and I know what he’s thinking. It deflates me more. “Don’t worry. Santa’s getting you a big lump of coal.” He laughs nervously, and I motion toward the door. “You’re gonna be late. Have a good night at work.”
There’s no sense in us talking about how we shouldn’t buy each other anything, or if we do, how we shouldn’t spend a lot of money. I really don’t think I could handle that conversation right now. It’s five days until Christmas, and judging by the expression on his face, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even thought about it.
That shouldn’t slay me. But it does.
The next day has me feeling even more bummed out. The kittens are adopted, and Brady gets called into work early. I was hoping we could decorate the Christmas tree together, but end up doing it by myself.
The silver lining is I finally found what I hope is the perfect present for Brady.
Behind the counter, the old woman folds the fabric and smiles broadly. “Would you like this gift wrapped, dear?”
“Yes, please.”
Her wrinkled hands tuck the fabric into a white box and then she lines it up on a large piece of textured red paper.
I stare at the impressive displays that line the walls. “Is this your shop?” I hoist the bag with gifts for my parents and sister a little higher.
“Yes, ma’am. Been doin’ this for forty years.”
“I can tell. Your designs are beautiful. They must be hard to part with.”
She nods and a deep sigh leaves her. “It helps when the customer loves them like I do. And I can tell this is for someone special.”
Suddenly, heat stings my eyes. “Yes. Very.”
She pats my hand. “Well, that makes it easier.”
I hope Brady and Izzy like it. The gift cost more than anything I own except my car, but I want to give them something meaningful, something that would remind them of their time here. So they’d know someone loves them. Because I do.
As I head to my car, which finally works thanks to Brady, I debate whether or not to call my parents. They’re going to ask me to come home for Christmas, and while I’d love nothing more than to visit for a few days, I’m worried that things are too weird between me and Brady for me to leave.
That sucks to admit. But our vibe has been so off this week, I’m not totally sure where we stand. Maybe that’s just insecurity talking. In some ways, life has gotten in the way. I’ve had to pick up more shifts this week because people keep calling in sick, and Brady’s job at night has stolen the little time we usually have to hang out.
I tuck my packages in the trunk as I debate what to do. I don’t need ESP to know my parents will flip if I simply mail home their gifts, but I’m not ready for the grand inquisition. And if leaving for a few days ends up straining whatever this is with Brady, I don’t know if I want to risk it.
Which sounds so desperate, I want to slap myself. Tontita.
I’m sitting in traffic when I see a billboard for Saints & Sinners Tattoo Parlor and realize I’m just a few blocks from Brady’s shop.
A few honks and one illegal turn later, I’m pulling up to a brick building with huge glass windows that are all lit up and shine brightly in the night.
But that’s not what why my mouth is hanging open.
That would be the enormous photo of Brady draped around a half-naked redhead that’s hanging in the window.
My stomach is mid-free fall when I realize that must be the image his mother mentioned on that Skype call last weekend.
It’s a stunning photo. All of the color has been stripped out except for her long, blood-red hair.
Wow. Dani is gorgeous.
And very, very topless.
Except you can’t see her boobs because they’re squished behind Brady’s arms, which are wrapped tightly around her.
Mierda.
My stomach continues its descent.
He’s standing behind her, looking sexy as hell, the ink on his arms and shoulders standing stark against her bare skin. And there’s a lot of bare skin. His forearms are pressed against her breasts, giving her all kinds of crazy cleavage. Above them, it says, Saints & Sinners Tattoo Parlor. Don’t you wanna get inked?
I stumble out of the car, unable to take my eyes off the photo. No wonder Brady didn’t want to talk about this. Damn. Does this mean he still has feelings for this girl? She’s so freaking beautiful.
I glance down at the jeans I bought at Goodwill last summer. Embarrassment flushes my cheeks. I’ve never really thought about Brady’s life in Boston, but of course he dated hot girls. He did this glamorous photoshoot with Dani, and here I am with dirt under my nails, second-hand clothes, and a car that barely runs.
By the time I reach the front door, I’m wishing I had just gone home, but I don’t have time to change my mind because some guy yanks the door open and waits for me to pass through so he can exit.
“What can I do for you, darlin’?” a burly man asks from behind the counter.
“I’m…” I clear my throat. “I’m here to see Brady.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “There’s an awful long line to get to him tonight.” He motions behind me where three pretty college girls sit. “Those are just the walk-ins. He also has two other appointments.”
I force a smile. “That’s good for business, though, right?”
“Not complaining.” He lifts his chin toward me. “What’d you want? Maybe one of the other guys can help you.”
“Oh, um, I’m Brady’s… friend. I was just popping in to say hi.”
He leans toward me and lowers his voice. “I’d say go on back, but he’s piercing some girl’s big titties. Swear to God, we’ve never had so many nipple piercings as we’ve had these past couple of weeks.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “No… no problem. Thank you. I’ll stop by some other time.”
Like never.
I shouldn’t feel like death warmed over, but as I drive home, I blink back the tears in my eyes.
He told me about his job. He freaking told me that he does nipple piercings. I shouldn’t be so upset. Heck, I shouldn’t be upset at all. The man straight-up told me he’s monogamous, and I believe him.
So then why does this all hurt so much?
Because you love him.
49
Brady
Izzy’s little howls on the monitor pull me from a dead sleep. Barely awake enough to walk upright, I stub my foot as I scramble to get to her room.
Working night shifts suck ass when you have to get up early, which is why I quit back in Boston.
“Hey, baby.” I cuddle her to my chest as I collapse on the rocker. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and sticks her nose in the crook of my neck.
I pat her butt as we rock back and forth. The sun is up, so it must be later than I thought.
Fucking fuck, I’m tired. Too tired to even drag my ass to the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee.
When Kat texted me last night and said she had to work this morning, I straight-up wanted to cry, but I swore my job wouldn’t interfere with her schedule at the diner, and I want to hold myself to that. She’s bent over backwards to help me, and I know she needs the income.
“Bway Bway,” Izzy whispers. Peeking through my heavy lids, I see Izzy staring back with that adorable grin. She grabs my face with both hands. “Hungwee.”
After I change her diaper and snuggle her in something warm, we head to the kitchen. It’s odd not having Kat here in the morning. It’s honestly one of my favorite parts of the day, seeing her first thing.
But we haven’t really had that kind of week. We can't seem to catch a break to hang out.
When I crawled in here at three this morning, I didn’t want to wake her, so I crashed in the office. I’m starting to rethink that, though, because I fucking miss her.
From the back porch, I hear a familiar noise.
After I get Izzy situated with some cereal, I open the back door. Bandit stares back at me.
“Hey, asshole. What’s up?”
The raccoon glances at the empty cardboard box, and I remember the kittens got adopted yesterday.
“Lost your buddies, huh?”
I peel the banana I was about to eat and break off a chunk. Leery he’s going to bite me, I put it on the floor between us. He makes that snick, snick sound and sniffs it suspiciously.
“Where’s the trust, man?”
He finally gobbles it, and I hold out another piece. He takes it from my hand this time and snarfs it down.
“See, if we could do this without you urinating on my belongings, we might find a way to get along.”
I feel bad for him now that he’s all alone.
Which reminds me how much Kat loved those kittens. I bet she’s heartbroken over losing them.
It’s the breakfast rush, though, so I shouldn’t bother her now, but I make a mental note to call her later.
As I’m striding back into the kitchen, something in the living room catches my eye.
Holy shit.
A fully decorated Christmas tree sits in the corner. With little glass ornaments, twinkle lights, and shimmery little angels.
I blow out a breath. Kat must’ve done this after I went to work yesterday.
Pulling out my phone, I glance at the date.
Well, damn. Christmas is in two days.