All He Wants

by Anna Cruise

  I looped the damp towel back on the rack and opened the bathroom door. The house was still quiet, even as I descended the staircase and turned the corner into the living room. I glanced out the window to the front yard. Barb was nowhere to be seen, her shears discarded on the lawn. There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway, parked next to the Mini Cooper. I squinted, trying to make out the model. I could just make out the symbol on the grill. A Mercedes.

  I poked my head in the kitchen and the dining room, then walked down the hall toward the backyard. I saw Stuart immediately, leaning against one of the gazebo's pillars. His aunt sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, a glass of water in her hand and a smile on her face. Opposite her was another woman, her legs crossed, her head tilted up toward Stuart.

  My stomach twisted into a web of knots.

  She was young.

  She was beautiful.

  And she was talking to my man.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Having a party without me?” I asked as I approached the trio under the gazebo.

  The koi in the pond circled peacefully at the surface and the waterfall gurgled over the rocks. There were birds in the trees at the back of the property, invisible to the eye but chirping and singing. An airplane hovered in the sky, wheels out in preparation for landing at SFO, the steady drone of the engine temporarily drowning out the bird song. But I barely noticed any of these things. Because my eyes were trained on the stranger sitting across from Stuart.

  He turned around at the sound of my voice, an unreadable expression on his face. Aunt Barb smiled at me.

  “Annika,” she said. “Let me find you a chair.”

  I held up my hand. “No, thanks. I can stand.”

  But Aunt Barb didn't hear me. She set her glass down on the small table next to her, hauled herself out of the chair, and headed toward the house, presumably to hunt down a seat for me. I ignored the vacant chair and positioned myself next to Stuart, close but not touching. I stared at the woman sitting next to him.

  She was prettier up close, I admitted grudgingly. Long, reddish-blond hair and pale, almost translucent skin. She looked like she'd never seen a day of sun in her life. Her skin was smooth like marble, not a mole or freckle marring a single inch of that perfect canvas. My eyes roved up and down the length of her, looking for flaws. She wore a knee-length pink skirt and a fitted white blouse, a thick gold necklace nestled just above the neckline. Even with her sitting, I could tell she was taller than me. She was model-thin, her eyes enormously blue and framed by thick lashes that had to be coated with mascara. There was no way she had dark eyelashes with all that red hair. Her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and penciled a soft, subtle brown and my eyes shot to her crotch. I wondered what her natural color really was.

  “Have we met?” the woman asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

  “No.” I stuck out my hand. “Annika.”

  Her grip was limp, her fingers gently holding mine. She shook quickly, like she was grabbing a used tampon from me. “Kristen. Kristen Filmore.”

  Filmore. Perhaps this was Marcus Filmore's young trophy wife. If he had one.

  I forced a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled back and I noticed a slightly crooked canine tooth. Maybe she wasn't perfect, after all. “Did you both just come back from a swim?”

  “No.” I gave her a sly look. “A shower.” I didn't say we'd showered together but the implication was there.

  She pursed her lips. “I see. And you're a friend of Stuart's?”

  I started to respond but Stuart interrupted me. “Annika has been helping with Book of Hope.”

  “Oh?” Kristen arched an eyebrow. “She's a volunteer?”

  “I thought I was your sex goddess,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Excuse me?” Kristen's voice was sharp.

  Stuart's elbow nudged my side. “She and I worked together in Mexico. She was planning a trip to Brazil but had a bad reaction to the vaccinations.”

  Kristen studied me. “Oh? Are those hives?” She offered another smile. “I was going to recommend a good dermatologist but I guess that's unnecessary.”

  “Quite unnecessary,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “And you're a friend of Stuart's?”

  She laughed and her crooked tooth looked like a fang. “You could say that.” She glanced at Stuart. “We go way back, don't we, Wood?”

  Wood? She had a nickname for him?

  She shifted in her chair and re-crossed her legs. “We've known each other since birth. Born two weeks apart.”

  So this was not Marcus Filmore's trophy wife; this was his daughter.

  “Practically brother and sister, then,” I said sweetly.

  She frowned. “Actually, not at all. But we're certainly close.” She winked. “Very close.”

  I clenched my hands to my sides so I wouldn't wrap them around her throat.

  Stuart cleared his throat. “I'm glad you stopped by, Kris. It's been a while.”

  “Too long,” she said. She picked up a glass sitting next to her and took a sip. “I didn't realize your visits would be so few and far between.”

  He laughed. “It's been like this for the past five years. Nothing's changed.”

  She pouted a little. “But with all of Daddy's donations, I thought you'd have more hands to help. Spread out the workload a little bit.”

  “That's not how it works,” he said. He kicked at the floor of the gazebo with his shoe. “Every dollar I get is funneled back into the organization. You know that.”

  “You can't keep doing it all by yourself,” she said. “You're going to burn out.”

  “Not a chance.” He grinned. “I'm like the Energizer bunny.”

  “Hey,” I said, swatting his arm. “I thought that was my nickname.” He'd once described my sexual appetite and prowess with those exact same words.

  A hint of a blush tinged his cheeks. “There can be two of us.”

  I gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I hate to interrupt your little private conversation,” Kristen said, her tone clipped. “But Daddy wanted me to stop by when he heard you were back home. He'd like to see you while you're in town. Have you over for dinner or drinks.”

  My gaze bounced between them and I focused on their body language, trying to decipher the words left unsaid. There was comfort and unease exuding from both of them and I didn't know the whys or the hows of anything. But there was one thing I was absolutely certain about. There was more going on between them than they were letting on. And I was damned if I was going to be kept in the dark one minute longer.

  It took five seconds for me to make up my mind on a course of action.

  “Dinner?” I asked, looking first at her and then at Stuart. “Drinks? I know I'm sort of inviting myself along but I'd love to meet the man who helps make Stuart's work possible. Is tonight too soon?”

  NINETEEN

  “What the hell was all that about?”

  Kristen was gone and Stuart had taken up residence in his aunt's empty chair. She'd never returned with more seating.

  He glanced at me wearily. “You just invited us over to Kristen's house for drinks. Oh. And dinner.”

  “That's not what I meant!” I waited for him to answer. He just stood up and moved to the edge of the gazebo, his gaze focused on the pond¸ seemingly lost in thought. I tried again. “Who is she?”

  “Kristen Filmore,” he replied automatically.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Who is she to you?” I wasn't an idiot. And I also didn't tolerate pretty girls interested in my man.

  I hesitated. What exactly was Stuart to me? We hadn't discussed our relationship status. Hell, I didn't even know if we had one. But I knew that my reaction to Kristen was about a thousand times stronger than my reaction to Brynn, the girl who'd joined us on our overnight volunteer trip to Mexico.

  “Do you ever listen?” he asked. “Did you hear a word she said?
”

  “I heard every word she said.”

  “Great. Then you already know.”

  “She said you've known each other since birth,” I repeated, changing my voice to sound like Kristen's.

  He bit back a smile.

  “And that you're close. But not brother-sister close.” I made a face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that we've known each other our whole lives. Period.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  He looked up at me, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Jealous?”

  “Do I have something to be jealous of?” I countered.

  “No,” he said. His voice was firm. “I am not interested in Kristen.”

  “Is she interested in you?”

  He chuckled. “Kristen is interested in a lot of things. But mostly, she's interested in getting what she wants.”

  I thought about that for a minute. The same could be said for me.

  “And does she want you?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I cast a doubtful look at him.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Aunt Barb finally reappeared, her hat askew on top of her head. She looked hot and tired and frustrated. Stuart noticed immediately.

  “Something wrong?” he asked her.

  “I've been wrestling with this damn chair in the garage for fifteen minutes. Can you give me a hand?”

  Stuart leaped out of his seat. “Why didn't you come get me sooner?”

  “Because you were visiting,” she said.

  “Be right back,” he said to me.

  I sank down in the chair Kristen had been sitting in. Her perfume still lingered, a cloyingly sweet floral scent. I waved my hand in the air, trying to brush it away along with all of my jealous thoughts and tendencies. I didn't like that I cared about her and her history with Stuart. I didn't want to care. But I did.

  The sliding door to the house opened and Tom poked his head outside. He was dressed in a green polo and white shorts that showed off his knobby knees. His balding head was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the remaining thin hairs plastered to his skin.

  He smiled when he saw me. “I was wondering where everyone was.”

  I remembered to speak loudly. “They're getting chairs. From the garage, I think.”

  A look of confusion flitted across his face. “Didn't Kristen just leave?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at the two chairs, then back at me. “Is she coming back?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “So why do we need more chairs?”

  “I don't know,” I said honestly. I didn't tell him that it might have had something to do with the fact that his wife had been struggling to get the extra chairs out of the garage the entire time we'd talked. “Maybe Barb wants a couple more out while we're here?”

  Tom unclipped a water bottle attached to a belt loop on his shorts. He unscrewed the cap with shaking hands and took a drink.

  He grinned at me. “I was hoping we were gearing up for a party.”

  “A party?”

  He nodded. “Been a while since we had a party around here. I need a reason to break out the tiki torches and keg.”

  I couldn't help but smile at the image of a seventy year old man filling up at a keg. “I'm sure Stuart would always be up for a keg and tiki torches.”

  “Need a reason, though,” he said. He clipped the bottle back in place and tilted his head, thinking. “Although I guess at my age, every day I'm alive is a reason to celebrate.”

  I didn't know what to say to that so I just nodded and smiled.

  “Anyway,” he said, turning back toward the house. “I was hoping for some news.”

  “News?”

  He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “We've been waiting for years on those two.”

  I frowned. “I'm not following...”

  He raised his voice. “We've been waiting for year—” he began to repeat.

  “No, I heard you,” I said, my tone clipped. “Waiting for what?”

  “For Stuart and Kristen.” A wide grin spread across his face. “I know it's only a matter of time before they officially announce their engagement. Thought today might be the big day.”

  I inhaled sharply. “Engagement?” The word felt like a massive cotton ball stuck in my throat.

  Uncle Tom nodded.

  “But...”

  A noise from the house silenced me. Stuart had a wooden Adirondack chair in his arms, hugging it to his chest as he made his out of the garage and into the yard. I could see his eyes. He was looking at me.

  “One more chair,” he announced as he carried it in to the gazebo. He set it down, sliding the empty one closer to me so there was room.

  “That's one too many,” I said.

  Stuart cocked his head. “What?”

  “That's one too many,” I repeated.

  “Mom wanted another chair,” he said. “And she wants one more. For the four of us. So I have to go back into that hellhole of a garage and dig one out. Not really sure I'm gonna come out alive.”

  “Maybe you're right,” I said slowly. “Maybe you do need four.”

  “Yep. One for each of us. Maybe they're planning on us eating dinner out here before we leave.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I folded my hands behind my back so he wouldn't see me trembling.

  “No?” He made a face. “You know something I don't?”

  “Funny you should say that,” I said. I leveled my eyes on him and he squinted, a frown creasing his forehead.

  “Say what?”

  “I guess I do know something you don't.” I glanced at Uncle Tom but he'd drifted closer to the pond and was inspecting the koi.

  He grinned lazily. “Like?”

  “Your dad or uncle or whatever he is mentioned you're getting engaged,” I said. “Should I congratulate you?”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, Annika.”

  “He said he'd been waiting for you and Kristen to announce your engagement,” I said, the words sour on my tongue. “He was thinking it might be today.”

  He started to say something, then stopped.

  “So I probably need to run out and get you a gift,” I continued. “Kristen can have my chair that you so thoughtfully went and got.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  The anger swelled up in me like a balloon. “You're goddamned right I don't know what I'm talking about. Because you apparently have been lying your ass off to me.”

  I stood and headed for the house.

  But he stepped around the chair and cut me off.

  “Get out of my way,” I said.

  “You don't know what you're talking about,” he said again.

  “We've already established that, Wood,” I said, using Kristen's nickname. “Because you've left a few things out, haven't you?”

  I stepped around him and his hand shot out and caught my elbow. I tried to jerk it free, but he held onto me.

  “Our families have pegged us as being together for years,” he said, his voice angry. “But we're not. So I'm not sure if he was jerking you around or what, but there's no impending engagement, alright? There's nothing there. Not with me.”

  “I'm just supposed to believe you?” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Just like that?”

  His fingers dug into my flesh. “Do you really think I'd bring you here if I was involved with someone else? Fuck you a couple times and then introduce you to my fiancee? How stupid would that be?”

  I blinked. He sounded like he was telling the truth. And it would've been a very stupid thing to do.

  “I don't know...”

  “You don't know?” His grip tightened and I winced at the pressure on my arm. “Well, let me tell you something I don't know. What the hell is this to you?”

  “What the hell is what?”

 
He jerked me closer to him. “This. Us.”

  My heart hammered inside my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “Every signal you've sent me is that you don't want something labeled as a relationship,” he said, leaning toward me. “Every single one. You don't want anything serious. Because you're afraid of turning into your sister or something like that.”

  “I'm not afraid of anything,” I said evenly.

  He ignored my statement. “So we just do our thing and that's it and you keep me right there.” He paused, then let go of my elbow, giving me a little push away from him, indicating the distance he thought I kept him at. “So what do you care if your little fuck toy is rumored to be getting engaged to someone else? Wouldn't that just give you a convenient out so you can move on? Isn't that what you want?”

  His words dug into me like tiny razor blades. In my head, I'd started to think of Stuart differently than anyone else I'd been with, but I hadn't vocalized that to him. I wasn't sure I could. It wasn't something I'd ever done before and I wasn't sure I even knew what to say. I didn't want a convenient out so I could move on, but I didn't know how to tell him that.

  “Isn't it?” he taunted, his expression laced with anger.

  I didn't trust myself to respond so I stepped around him again.

  And, this time, he didn't stop me.

  TWENTY

  I wanted to apologize, but I didn't know how.

  I'd gone back into the house and sequestered myself in his room. I'd waited for him to come after me, to force my hand and make me talk. Maybe I'd finally be able to find the words I wanted to say to him.

  But he never knocked on the door.

  So I laid on the bed for awhile, then got pissed that he hadn't come after me and, tired of feeling sorry for myself, started getting ready for dinner at Kristen's.

  I didn't want to go. I still didn't know what the relationship was between her and Stuart. He'd conveniently not elaborated on their history, whatever it was. I believed him that they weren't about to tie the knot and ride off into the sunset, but I wasn't dumb enough to think that there hadn't been something there at some point. Which made me want to vomit all over the place.