Only Love
Page 16
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey. How’s it going with Grams?”
“Fine.” I sighed. “Grams is fine.”
“But you’re not?”
“I don’t know what I am.”
“I heard about Buzz. Sorry, Stell.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like he broke my heart or anything. I just feel stupid that I didn’t see it coming.”
“I know. But don’t. Just move on to someone better.”
I stared up at the ceiling in the dark. “Maren, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever felt like you have no idea what you’re doing? Like on the outside everyone thinks you’ve got your shit together, but on the inside you have this sinking feeling you’ve been faking it and pretty soon everybody is going to figure it out?”
“Stella, what’s going on?”
I blinked back tears. “I don’t know. For years I’ve felt like I was at least ninety-five percent shit-together and five percent neurotic mess, but now I feel like the scales are tipping and pretty soon my crazy is going to start to show. I mean, why can’t I get this girl-boy thing right?”
A pause. “Honey, have you been drinking?”
“No. I mean yes, but that was earlier. Before I made a total ass out of myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sighing deeply, I told her the whole story—how Grams was clearly trying to set me up with her neighbor, how he turned out to be this sexy, complicated ex-Marine I couldn’t stop thinking about, how reluctant he’d been to talk to me, how Grams had given me a makeover and sent me over there with a pie she claimed was magic.
At that point, Maren was cracking up. “I’m sorry,” she said, wheezing, “I know it’s not supposed to be a funny story, but I’m just picturing you going over there looking like Marilyn Monroe in Grams’s little clothes and holding a pie.”
“It was only her sweater,” I said testily. “And her pearls.”
“Oh God, the pearls,” she gasped. “I cannot wait until Emme hears all this.”
“And she gave me all this ridiculous advice about how to flirt with him.” I started to smile in spite of myself.
“Like what? Drop a hankie and let him pick it up? Bat your lashes over the top of a fan? Swoon so he could catch you?”
I was laughing now, too. “No, no. My only prop was the pie, but it seemed to work. He loved it.”
“So what went wrong?”
“I have no idea. He invited me in and we sat at his kitchen table eating pie and chatting. I was just trying to get to know him better, but I asked about his military service, and that must have set him off because the next thing I knew he was all defensive and angry, telling me how he doesn’t need a therapist.”
“Oh dear. Were you in your therapist mode? Trying to probe his brain and analyze his thoughts?”
“No,” I said, offended. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Sometimes I think you do it without even realizing it.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe. But it’s only because I’m curious. People fascinate me. And I care.”
“So then what happened?”
“Well, the conversation basically ended with him saying he’s not interested in me, so I left. Then I sat down on Grams’s front porch steps to contemplate what an idiot I’d been—and that’s where he found me.”
She sucked in her breath. “Found you?”
“Yeah. He came over to apologize. Said he’d felt bad about the way I’d left. And he said he was interested.
Another gasp. “And then?”
“Then I threw myself at him.”
“What?” she squealed. “You did not.”
“Well, I told him to kiss me.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.” Thinking about that kiss made my insides warm. I turned onto my side and curled into a ball, as if I didn’t want to let the feeling get away.
“And?” Her voice rose an octave.
“And it was the hottest, sexiest, most amazing kiss of my entire life. Pretty sure I’d have taken my clothes off right there on Grams’s front lawn if he asked me to.”
“Omigod!”
“But then he pushed me away and told me to go in the house.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“You think he could be married?”
I hesitated. “I suppose it’s possible. Grams said his wife left him, and he definitely lives alone, but who knows?”
“Well, I know things didn’t exactly go your way tonight, but I love that you went after him. I think it’s healthy. You’re too careful with your feelings.”
I sighed. “Maybe, but then something like this happens and it reminds me why being careful is better than being reckless.”
“Listen, don’t give up. Maybe he’s … I don’t know, religious or something. Maybe his divorce isn’t final.”
“Maybe he’s just not that into me.”
“But he said he was!”
“Actions speak louder than words in this case.” I rolled onto my back again. “I just hope I don’t run into him before I leave. I don’t think I could look him in the eye.”
“Well, he’s crazy if he doesn’t want you,” my sister said. “I think he does need a therapist.”
I laughed a little. “Thanks. Love you.”
“Love you too. Thanks for taking care of Grams.”
We hung up and I got ready for bed, where I lay on my back and blinked at the ceiling. That kiss. That kiss. That kiss. I touched my lips, wondering if he was sorry he’d done it. He’d seemed into it, but then he’d gotten so mad. Was he angry with me? Or with himself?
I wondered if he’d gone to bed yet. Did he sleep naked?
The thought sent a warm rush through my body.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but it was a long time before the tension in my body eased enough for me to fall asleep.
Twelve
Ryan
What the actual fuck was wrong with me?
I tossed and turned all night long, alternately congratulating myself on doing the right thing and hating myself for it. And I didn’t even want to think about the revenge my dick was going to exact on me. It was probably going to refuse to get hard ever again.
But I had done the right thing, hadn’t I? The selfless thing?
So what if she’d been willing to come home with me and overlook the fact that all I had was a shitty mattress on the floor? So what if she’d have let me get my mouth on her, those mile-long legs wrapped around my neck, those full, firm breasts in my hands? So what if she might have stayed for hours and let me fuck her with my tongue, my fingers, my cock? So what if she would have made me come so hard I nearly believed in God again?
It didn’t matter, I told myself, because it would have meant using her just so I could let myself feel something again, and that was an asshole move.
She was kind and thoughtful and made the most delicious pie I’d ever tasted (sorry, Mom). She had sweet dreams about me and believed I was a good man. She was the first woman in a long time that made me wish I were.
She deserved better than a one-night stand on the floor in this decrepit old house with a messed up guy like me.
Still. It was a long fucking night.
“Woods. You with me?”
I realized Mack had been giving me instructions about something and I’d zoned out. “Sorry. Can you say that again?”
“What’s with you today?” Mack was sitting behind his desk—it was still strange for me to see him like that—going over a list of projects that needed to be finished before the first snowfall. I was sitting in a chair across from him thinking about Stella’s perfect lips and how good her body had felt against mine.
And also the pie. Not gonna lie.
“Sorry, guess I’m a little distracted.” I frowned and looked down at the empty page where I was supposed to be taking some notes.
Mack leaned back in his chair. “Everything okay?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey. How’s it going with Grams?”
“Fine.” I sighed. “Grams is fine.”
“But you’re not?”
“I don’t know what I am.”
“I heard about Buzz. Sorry, Stell.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like he broke my heart or anything. I just feel stupid that I didn’t see it coming.”
“I know. But don’t. Just move on to someone better.”
I stared up at the ceiling in the dark. “Maren, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever felt like you have no idea what you’re doing? Like on the outside everyone thinks you’ve got your shit together, but on the inside you have this sinking feeling you’ve been faking it and pretty soon everybody is going to figure it out?”
“Stella, what’s going on?”
I blinked back tears. “I don’t know. For years I’ve felt like I was at least ninety-five percent shit-together and five percent neurotic mess, but now I feel like the scales are tipping and pretty soon my crazy is going to start to show. I mean, why can’t I get this girl-boy thing right?”
A pause. “Honey, have you been drinking?”
“No. I mean yes, but that was earlier. Before I made a total ass out of myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sighing deeply, I told her the whole story—how Grams was clearly trying to set me up with her neighbor, how he turned out to be this sexy, complicated ex-Marine I couldn’t stop thinking about, how reluctant he’d been to talk to me, how Grams had given me a makeover and sent me over there with a pie she claimed was magic.
At that point, Maren was cracking up. “I’m sorry,” she said, wheezing, “I know it’s not supposed to be a funny story, but I’m just picturing you going over there looking like Marilyn Monroe in Grams’s little clothes and holding a pie.”
“It was only her sweater,” I said testily. “And her pearls.”
“Oh God, the pearls,” she gasped. “I cannot wait until Emme hears all this.”
“And she gave me all this ridiculous advice about how to flirt with him.” I started to smile in spite of myself.
“Like what? Drop a hankie and let him pick it up? Bat your lashes over the top of a fan? Swoon so he could catch you?”
I was laughing now, too. “No, no. My only prop was the pie, but it seemed to work. He loved it.”
“So what went wrong?”
“I have no idea. He invited me in and we sat at his kitchen table eating pie and chatting. I was just trying to get to know him better, but I asked about his military service, and that must have set him off because the next thing I knew he was all defensive and angry, telling me how he doesn’t need a therapist.”
“Oh dear. Were you in your therapist mode? Trying to probe his brain and analyze his thoughts?”
“No,” I said, offended. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Sometimes I think you do it without even realizing it.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe. But it’s only because I’m curious. People fascinate me. And I care.”
“So then what happened?”
“Well, the conversation basically ended with him saying he’s not interested in me, so I left. Then I sat down on Grams’s front porch steps to contemplate what an idiot I’d been—and that’s where he found me.”
She sucked in her breath. “Found you?”
“Yeah. He came over to apologize. Said he’d felt bad about the way I’d left. And he said he was interested.
Another gasp. “And then?”
“Then I threw myself at him.”
“What?” she squealed. “You did not.”
“Well, I told him to kiss me.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.” Thinking about that kiss made my insides warm. I turned onto my side and curled into a ball, as if I didn’t want to let the feeling get away.
“And?” Her voice rose an octave.
“And it was the hottest, sexiest, most amazing kiss of my entire life. Pretty sure I’d have taken my clothes off right there on Grams’s front lawn if he asked me to.”
“Omigod!”
“But then he pushed me away and told me to go in the house.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“You think he could be married?”
I hesitated. “I suppose it’s possible. Grams said his wife left him, and he definitely lives alone, but who knows?”
“Well, I know things didn’t exactly go your way tonight, but I love that you went after him. I think it’s healthy. You’re too careful with your feelings.”
I sighed. “Maybe, but then something like this happens and it reminds me why being careful is better than being reckless.”
“Listen, don’t give up. Maybe he’s … I don’t know, religious or something. Maybe his divorce isn’t final.”
“Maybe he’s just not that into me.”
“But he said he was!”
“Actions speak louder than words in this case.” I rolled onto my back again. “I just hope I don’t run into him before I leave. I don’t think I could look him in the eye.”
“Well, he’s crazy if he doesn’t want you,” my sister said. “I think he does need a therapist.”
I laughed a little. “Thanks. Love you.”
“Love you too. Thanks for taking care of Grams.”
We hung up and I got ready for bed, where I lay on my back and blinked at the ceiling. That kiss. That kiss. That kiss. I touched my lips, wondering if he was sorry he’d done it. He’d seemed into it, but then he’d gotten so mad. Was he angry with me? Or with himself?
I wondered if he’d gone to bed yet. Did he sleep naked?
The thought sent a warm rush through my body.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but it was a long time before the tension in my body eased enough for me to fall asleep.
Twelve
Ryan
What the actual fuck was wrong with me?
I tossed and turned all night long, alternately congratulating myself on doing the right thing and hating myself for it. And I didn’t even want to think about the revenge my dick was going to exact on me. It was probably going to refuse to get hard ever again.
But I had done the right thing, hadn’t I? The selfless thing?
So what if she’d been willing to come home with me and overlook the fact that all I had was a shitty mattress on the floor? So what if she’d have let me get my mouth on her, those mile-long legs wrapped around my neck, those full, firm breasts in my hands? So what if she might have stayed for hours and let me fuck her with my tongue, my fingers, my cock? So what if she would have made me come so hard I nearly believed in God again?
It didn’t matter, I told myself, because it would have meant using her just so I could let myself feel something again, and that was an asshole move.
She was kind and thoughtful and made the most delicious pie I’d ever tasted (sorry, Mom). She had sweet dreams about me and believed I was a good man. She was the first woman in a long time that made me wish I were.
She deserved better than a one-night stand on the floor in this decrepit old house with a messed up guy like me.
Still. It was a long fucking night.
“Woods. You with me?”
I realized Mack had been giving me instructions about something and I’d zoned out. “Sorry. Can you say that again?”
“What’s with you today?” Mack was sitting behind his desk—it was still strange for me to see him like that—going over a list of projects that needed to be finished before the first snowfall. I was sitting in a chair across from him thinking about Stella’s perfect lips and how good her body had felt against mine.
And also the pie. Not gonna lie.
“Sorry, guess I’m a little distracted.” I frowned and looked down at the empty page where I was supposed to be taking some notes.
Mack leaned back in his chair. “Everything okay?”
