"Hmmm, yeah." He handed his credit card to the waitress without looking at the bill. I'd stopped offering since he got so pissy whenever I reached for my wallet, but it niggled at all my righteous values. He'd also told me he appreciated my values, but he'd still be paying. "I haven't found any I like better than shapes."
Dragging my lip between my teeth, I nodded. I didn't want him tattooing any homesickness. I didn't care that it was a cool word. He was already carrying enough reminders of the things he'd lost. "Like I was saying. I've changed, I know that, and it makes sense that I can't experience home the same way I did when I was younger, but it doesn't make it any less sad."
"You want me to go with you?" I sent him an aggravated glare. "What?"
"I don't think bringing an Irish boy home with me is going to solve any of my family problems," I said. Sam being successful and sexy and generally perfect wasn't changing anything; my family's issues were with me.
"I'll be here when you get back."
"I know," I said, sighing. "And I'll probably text you the entire time I'm gone and you'll be trying to get rid of me again."
Sam blew a breath out and the sound transitioned into a groan and then a growl, and his expression was dark, thunderous.
"All right, Tiel. This has been more than enough. Keep doing that," he rumbled, gesturing toward the macaron I was licking. "But don't be surprised if you find my cock in your mouth very soon."
I winked, and licked the rest of the filling.
21
Sam
How I knew I'd officially lost it: I was moping at a party.
Perhaps moping wasn't the right word, but I was staring into my gin and tonic, too disinterested to bother drinking it. Riley, in his professional capacity as bartender for this event, also managed to pour a blindingly strong drink. This thing had the capacity to knock me into next year.
There was a great crowd at Patrick and Andy's apartment for their Chrismukkah shindig, and it really should have been amusing. But I hadn't been in a social situation without Tiel since the summer, and I didn't know what to do with myself. The temptation to text her was high, but I didn't want to interfere with her family's plans.
I also didn't want to be a needy little fuck.
"If you're going to sit in a corner, why don't you watch the rice while you're at it?" Andy asked.
She pointed to the cast iron pot on the stove, waving me off the kitchen island barstool. Following her direction, I grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the spicy rice.
"I take it Tiel's out of town?" I nodded. "And she still hates me?"
"I don't think she's chromosomally capable of hate," I laughed. "She's uncomfortable in big families. Her own is a rotting bag of dicks, and we fail to acknowledge that we're an intimidating bunch."
"That you are," she murmured. "It took me three weeks to keep you all straight, and there are still times when I don't know what the hell you're all talking about."
Whirling around, I almost knocked the salad bowl from Andy's hands. "Would you tell her that? Tiel?"
She leaned over the pot on the stove, breathing in the aroma and taking the spoon from my hand to add seasoning. "No problem. I don't get the impression she has any interest in talking to me, ever, but I can try."
I threw my arms around her shoulders and squeezed. "Oh God, thank you, Andy."
She patted my arm and said, "You're in rough shape."
"I'm fine," I said, careful not to spit the words out with the frustration I felt. "Wanting Tiel to feel welcome—"
"No, no, no. You're missing me," she said. She draped her arm around my shoulder, smiling. "It's nice to see you caring about someone, even if it's torturing the shit out of you right now."
"Um, yes," Patrick mumbled, coming up behind me. He elbowed me away from Andy and folded her against his chest. "Let's not be doing that, please. You do not need to be touching her."
"I was just thanking Andy for helping me," I said.
"Right, and you can do that with words," he said. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."
I spent most of the night helping Andy with the food, and once that was handled I washed the dishes. It was a good distraction from missing Tiel, and it saved me from engaging in stupid conversations about snow predictions and the college bowl series.
When the night started winding down and only Patrick, Andy, Shannon, Riley, Nick, and I were left, Riley took to mixing Irish coffees.
"Ri, this is strong enough to tranquilize a rhino," I said. Everyone was settled in the living room, and promptly sampled their coffees.
"It really isn't," Nick said.
"Dude, if you get hammered and piss on my wall, I'll kill you," Patrick said.
"Your tolerance is off," Riley murmured. "You haven't been hard drunk in months."
Maybe he was right. Tiel and I always had a few drinks when we went out, but never as many as before. My goal wasn't numb oblivion.
"That's positive," Shannon said. "Is that something you're working on now?"
"Shannon, can you do us all a favor and not talk to him like he's five?" Nick asked. "So his lady has some fire-breathing dragon moments. So do you. Oddly enough, no one's tried to run you off."
Her head turned toward him in extreme slow motion, unblinking, and I was concerned her glare would actually decapitate him. "I don't recall asking your opinion, so why don't you do me a favor and tuck it away with your little dick. Okay? Thanks."
"Does anyone remember the year we changed all the labels on the presents?" Patrick asked. "For the life of me, I can't figure out when that was, but we managed to peel all the tags off and rearranged them."
We glanced at each other, perplexed.
"At first Mom was really confused but then she was pissed," he continued. "She figured it out within a few minutes and she was steaming mad." He pointed at Shannon. "She gave us that exact look, that awful face-melting look you just gave Nick, and stared us down until we cracked."
"It was Matt's idea," I said. "But he blamed it on me."
"Yes," Patrick laughed, pointing at me. "And he did it because he knew Mom was going to beat his ass with a wooden spoon but she'd never get mad at you."
"Do you remember when we hollowed out the cake?" Shannon asked. Her voice was quiet, absent of the sharp tone she aimed at Nick minutes ago. "It was this big, beautiful layer cake that she made for one of those holiday parties we always had, and we cut a little piece and then scooped out the inside. We filled it with something—what was that?"
"Leftover stuffing," I said as they laughed. "Even at seven, Matt was very concerned about preserving the structural integrity."
"Such a fucking nerd," Patrick muttered. "But God, when Mom cut into that cake and realized what we'd done…shit, we'd never run so fast in our lives."
"Why do I remember none of this?" Riley asked. He got up to pour another round of drinks but I waved him off.
"You were two or three," Shannon said. "You were a baby. You wouldn't have remembered."
For a second, I felt the impact of Riley growing up without knowing these rare, happy moments, but that meant he didn't have the horrible moments either. He didn't have nightmares about Mom's death and he wouldn't remember the way Angus dropped into an angry, evil spiral from that point forward.
As I wondered whether I'd be better off erasing all the memories, I didn't notice Patrick leaning toward me.
"Can I give you some advice?"
I glanced at him and the apartment, surprised to find Nick and Shannon had left. "I get the impression you'll be giving it regardless of whether I want it or not."
"That's accurate." He shrugged and propped his feet on the ottoman, crossing his ankles. "Don't keep Shannon out of the loop. She'll turn into a fucking howler monkey if you try to shut her out, and she'll do crazy shit like sending you to a shrink because your girlfriend is a beast."
"Please do not say that," I ground out. "She needs time to warm up to everyone."
"You know what I mean," he said. "
She seems like a handful."
My mind went straight to Tiel's naked body. My hands on her breasts. Her thighs. Her ass. Between her legs. "Something like that."
Patrick edged closer and knocked his glass against mine. "It's amazing what the right woman can do to you, isn't it?"
That was an understatement.
Last night's storytelling dredged an armload of holiday memories, and when I woke up, I stared out at the Fort Point Channel reliving them. Before my mother died, Christmas was a big deal. She went hog wild. The twenty-foot tree in the front foyer, miles of lights, garland covering every surface, wreaths and ribbons everywhere. There were even holiday towels in the bathrooms.
We never managed to resurrect any of those traditions when she was gone, and suddenly, I realized how much I missed them. Drinking beer and watching basketball at Shannon's apartment on Christmas used to be enough for me, but there was something missing. Something big.
I devoted the morning to finishing the chairs for Riley's office—finally—and constructing some small tables. One of them was destined to replace the particle board crap in Tiel's apartment, but I couldn't decide which.
I'd been thinking about her nonstop since she left for Jersey. I was worried about her. I didn't like the idea of her spending time with people who found it so easy to turn their backs on her for years. I could also admit I didn't like being separated from her. Even before we fell into bed, we'd been joined at the hip, and this distance was jarring.
It got heavier for me when I thought about Patrick's advice. The right woman.
He was too right.
She existed in a different stratosphere, a place where friendship and sex and affection were unsullied by anything I'd done before—at least for me.
Glancing at my phone, I decided to text her.
Sam: Merry Christmas
Sam: How's it going?
Tiel: omfg
Tiel: My grandmother keeps calling me Elena and has not a fucking clue who I am, and I actually feel pretty terrible about that but she's the only one who gets a pass
Tiel: I'm not sure this was ever home at all. My sister acts like I've been living on Mars.
Tiel: She introduced me to her husband as if I hadn't been at their damn wedding
Sam: I'm sorry.
Tiel: They've been telling people I'm a kindergarten music teacher…apparently that's more acceptable?
Tiel: I'd love it if someone could define for me why I'm such a fucking disappointment. They realize I'm not one of Snoop Dogg's groupies, right?
Sam: Allow me to remind you that you're the most talented, accomplished person I've ever met
Sam: (and this is coming from the guy who hears how talented and accomplished he is all the damn time)
Tiel: I just wish I had regular people in my life. Regular, non-ridiculous people who don't act like my entire existence is too weird for words.
Tiel: Normal family. All I'm asking.
Sam: You can have mine.
Of course it took her ten minutes to contend with that comment.
Tiel: hmmmm
Tiel: Not sure they want me either
Sam: They do and so do I
Tiel: It's not too early to start drinking, right? It is a holiday. People are supposed to be drunk on holidays.
Sam: You need a shoulder massage, a dry martini, and some dirty sex.
Tiel: Well, yeah, of course. I always need that.
Sam: I can give you all 3. You pick the order.
Tiel: lol. perv.
Tiel: At first I thought you were all preppy and gentlemanly, and now I know you're just a freak.
Sam: I'm still a gentleman. That doesn't mean I won't bend you over and fuck you, and then pour you a drink.
Tiel: Would it be wrong for me to get on a train tomorrow morning, and be drunk and bent over by noon?
Sam: I'd love that, and I'd be waiting for you at South Station.
Sam: And I know this isn't what you want to hear and it's not in my cock's best interest, but you should spend time with your family. I am getting you for an uninterrupted week in Scottsdale, after all.
Tiel: ugghhh. shut up
Sam: At the very least, you can tell them about me. I'm pretty great.
Tiel: And what would you like me to tell them, Samuel?
Sam: Whatever you want, although I'd omit the spanking. That is not elemental to the story as it pertains to them.
When she didn't respond for a few minutes, I dashed into the shower to wash away the dust and grime from woodworking. I didn't worry, figuring she got pulled into a conversation or started playing with a niece or nephew.
I left my phone nearby to listen for a new message, but nothing came through until I was dried off and stepping into a pair of jeans.
Tiel: And that's what makes me sad.
Tiel: I know you're going to have some smart ass remark like I should mention that I like a good spanking but that's not what I mean
Tiel: I don't know where I stand with you sometimes. That's probably super random to you right now but I can't stop thinking about it
Tiel: Are we friends or more than friends or just a game that you're playing or a weird part of your life where you figure shit out. Or some quick thing that's going to blow over in a few weeks. Or more. Or nothing.
Tiel: I don't know what I mean to you, if I mean anything.
Tiel: And I hate all of that, and I hate saying this.
Tiel: I hate being that needy girl who has to know what's going on but I'm here and you want me to tell my parents about you but I don't know what we are
Swallowing back the tension rising in my throat, I started responding to Tiel's messages but knew I couldn't get it into a text. Deleting it all, I tapped the icon beside her picture—the one from September, where she was sitting on the grass, wearing that smile that always brought out mine—and called her.
"Please don't freak out," she said. "I'm sorry. I can't remember who I am when I'm here, and all I want is some definition and structure. I'm in a terrible mood and being bratty. Rant, over."
"How long have you been ruminating on that?" I asked. She made a non-committal sound and I heard a screen door bang shut. "Just tell me."
"I don't know. Maybe since always?"
Aggravation bit at my nerves, but I pushed it all down. She managed to unleash every thought in her head on most occasions, but never mentioned the one thing that was truly bothering her. "Why didn't you say anything?"
There was wind rustling in the background and I caught an occasional hum or murmur, but minutes passed before she responded. "Because you're a weirdo and I like that shit. You're my friend, one of my best friends, and if nothing else, I didn't want to push away my best friend because I needed to know what it meant now that we're sleeping together. I've always wanted a lot more than you did, but I didn't want to tell you that and ruin things."
Well, shit.
I'd been operating under the assumption Tiel wanted casual. Everything about her was casual, all the time, and she eschewed every other label under the sun. She'd even told me she didn't necessarily like the term 'violinist' because she played 'a little bit of everything.'
And she'd wanted a lot more than I did? Yeah, I would have appreciated hearing about that much sooner. She freaked out when I offered to convert the showers to her practice space. She thought I wanted her to move in with me—it didn't sound like a bad idea, but it wasn't what I'd intended to say—and promptly dove into panic mode. If she wanted more of me, I wasn't averse to offering. "Can I tell you what I'm thinking?"
"Can't you always?" she asked.
If I had known…shit. I probably would have fucked it up somehow.
Simply put, she was unlike any other woman I'd ever met. Sure, I picked up the generalities, but there were so many more quirks I was only beginning to understand. It was obvious that this—the definition of us—was her cornerstone, and until it was square, we couldn't build anything else. And I was the asshole who hadn't put those pie
ces together until now.
But it killed me that she didn't mention it the other night at dinner when I straight-up told her I wouldn't be a lying dick like her ex-husband. There were a lot of names I'd willingly accept, but cheater wasn't one of them. Instead, she waited until she was seven hours away, and the best I could do was talk her down while I thought about spanking her and begging her to love me for eternity.
"More," I said, pressing my palm to my crotch to alleviate the pressure there.
"More?" She sniffled and blew out a breath. "More what?"
More of my cock inside you, fucking this silliness away and promising our forever, I thought. Probably not the right thing to say. There was honesty and then there was word vomit, and I needed to keep a handle on the latter.
"We're more than friends, and I don't want this to blow over," I said. "I want this to last. Believe me when I say that, Tiel. We have no idea what we're doing and we're probably going to screw up along the way, but…we can figure that all out. I want us to be the people who figure it out."
"Last for a little while?" she asked. "Or last for a long while?"
I'll last as long as you want me, I thought. Also, not the right thing to say.
"A long while," I said. "If that's what you want."
Let me tell you what you want right now: you want to be spread out on my bed and you don't want to think again until we've made love and you've come for me at least three times.
"You mean that? Don't give me the manwhore boilerplate, Sam, because I really cannot handle that today."
"Of course I mean that," I said. I wasn't addressing the player comment. It was intended to get a reaction out of me, and the only reaction that seemed to make a damned bit of difference on that topic was spanking her. And, fuck, I wanted my hand on that round ass. "Unless you want something different."
"I want to hang out with you," she said simply. "And have ridiculous arguments about irrelevant things, and long talks about random stuff, and laugh with you all the time. I want you staring at my boobs and saying pervy things, and then doing all those pervy things."
The Walsh Brothers Page 77