Something Real
Page 36
Sam
Liz is beautiful when she sleeps. I didn’t sleep much last night—neither of us did. I brought her back to her apartment, undressed her, and took her to bed. When she finally dozed off, her back snuggled against my front, my arm wrapped around her waist, I stayed awake for a long time, trying to make sense of my life.
When she left in December¸ it seemed hopeless. I couldn’t imagine a way that we could make it work after her affair with my father. But now, more difficult than that is trying to imagine a future where she doesn’t sleep in my arms every night.
I don’t know what we think we’re doing, sneaking around when I’m planning a very public wedding to another woman. But the fact is, we’re still here together when we both have so much at stake. Everything else seems meaningless against the possibility of losing each other.
I roll out of bed and make coffee. The sun is coming up, and the birds are singing outside the window. I can’t stay long. I need to get out of here and head back to New Hope before people are heading to work and I risk someone seeing me.
I pour us each a cup of coffee, heavily doctoring hers with cream and sugar, and I carry the steaming mugs back to the bedroom.
She’s rolled over, her arm stretched across my pillow as if she reached for me in her sleep.
I settle the mugs on the bedside table, smooth her hair off her face, and kiss her forehead.
She opens her eyes slowly, her lashes fluttering as if her lids are heavy. “Good morning,” she says.
“Good morning.” I press a kiss to her lips, tempted to linger. “I have to leave. I brought you coffee.”
She pushes up to her elbows and frowns at the clock. “Mornings are evil enough,” she grumbles, collapsing back to the bed. “Why make them worse by getting out of bed before seven?”
“Says the woman who used to open her sister’s bakery at the crack of dawn.”
“Exactly. I speak from experience.”
I kiss her frown, but then she moans and slides her hands under the hem of my shirt. Without meaning to, I turn my kiss longer, deeper.
“I have to go,” I murmur, even as I climb into bed on top of her.
“Mmm-hmm.” She draws her knees up to either side of my hips and yanks off my shirt between kisses. “I don’t want you to be late,” she says as she releases my cock from my jeans.
I let out a long groan as she strokes the length of me.
“One more time,” she says. “I need you one more time.”
“If that’s what I have to do to change your opinions about mornings, I guess I’ll take one for the team.”
She giggles, but her laughter is cut off by her moan as I slide into her.
“Damn.” I groan. “How can you feel this good every time?” She’s slick and hot, and I could die happy inside her.
Twenty minutes later, she’s asleep again, a half-smile curving her lips, and I re-dress and head out the door.
“Are you really that selfish?”
I turn to the voice and find Lizzy’s neighbor, George. Fuck. Probably not good that he knows I stayed the night. “Are you talking to me?”
George rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I am. Do you even care how miserable she’s been the last few months? She moved in here and went through every day like a woman serving her sentence. She went to work, came home, slept, ate just enough to function. You did that to her. You’re the ex, right?”
I rub the back of my neck. I really don’t like George. “None of this is any of your business.”
“I care about her.”
“No one asked you to.”
“But that’s what you do when you’re a decent guy—you care about the people in your life. Not just yourself. But I don’t expect you to know what that’s like.”
“Listen, dickhead. Back off. You don’t know anything about my life or my relationship with Liz.”
“I know enough,” he mutters. “These walls aren’t that thick.”
Well, fuck. “You’re mistaken. Liz and I are friends. That’s all.” The lie feels like a betrayal to Liz, but there’s no way around it.
“You off to meet your fiancée now? Does she know that you have overnight visits with your ‘friends’?” I take a step forward, and he holds up a hand. “I don’t care about Sabrina or you, frankly, so you don’t need to worry about me wrecking that little arrangement for you.”
“What do you want?” I ask. His eyes cut to Lizzy’s door, and my stomach clenches hard. He wants her, but he can’t fucking have her. “Don’t meddle in matters you don’t understand.”
He shakes his head. “She was getting better. Eating more, smiling—not much, but sometimes. She was starting to live her life rather than endure it. But now you’re back.”
“She’s fine.”
He nods. “Sure. But I wonder what’s going to happen when you break her heart again. You’re probably telling her that things aren’t serious with Sabrina, that the engagement’s a cover-up for the sex-tape scandal, and as soon as the election is over you two can be together again. Am I right?”
I turn on my heel and head to the stairs. I don’t like him knowing so many of my secrets, but I especially don’t like him waving my promises to Liz in front of my face as proof that I don’t deserve her.
Because I’m afraid he’s right.
* * *
Liz is beautiful when she sleeps. I didn’t sleep much last night—neither of us did. I brought her back to her apartment, undressed her, and took her to bed. When she finally dozed off, her back snuggled against my front, my arm wrapped around her waist, I stayed awake for a long time, trying to make sense of my life.
When she left in December¸ it seemed hopeless. I couldn’t imagine a way that we could make it work after her affair with my father. But now, more difficult than that is trying to imagine a future where she doesn’t sleep in my arms every night.
I don’t know what we think we’re doing, sneaking around when I’m planning a very public wedding to another woman. But the fact is, we’re still here together when we both have so much at stake. Everything else seems meaningless against the possibility of losing each other.
I roll out of bed and make coffee. The sun is coming up, and the birds are singing outside the window. I can’t stay long. I need to get out of here and head back to New Hope before people are heading to work and I risk someone seeing me.
I pour us each a cup of coffee, heavily doctoring hers with cream and sugar, and I carry the steaming mugs back to the bedroom.
She’s rolled over, her arm stretched across my pillow as if she reached for me in her sleep.
I settle the mugs on the bedside table, smooth her hair off her face, and kiss her forehead.
She opens her eyes slowly, her lashes fluttering as if her lids are heavy. “Good morning,” she says.
“Good morning.” I press a kiss to her lips, tempted to linger. “I have to leave. I brought you coffee.”
She pushes up to her elbows and frowns at the clock. “Mornings are evil enough,” she grumbles, collapsing back to the bed. “Why make them worse by getting out of bed before seven?”
“Says the woman who used to open her sister’s bakery at the crack of dawn.”
“Exactly. I speak from experience.”
I kiss her frown, but then she moans and slides her hands under the hem of my shirt. Without meaning to, I turn my kiss longer, deeper.
“I have to go,” I murmur, even as I climb into bed on top of her.
“Mmm-hmm.” She draws her knees up to either side of my hips and yanks off my shirt between kisses. “I don’t want you to be late,” she says as she releases my cock from my jeans.
I let out a long groan as she strokes the length of me.
“One more time,” she says. “I need you one more time.”
“If that’s what I have to do to change your opinions about mornings, I guess I’ll take one for the team.”
She giggles, but her laughter is cut off by her moan as I slide into her.
“Damn.” I groan. “How can you feel this good every time?” She’s slick and hot, and I could die happy inside her.
Twenty minutes later, she’s asleep again, a half-smile curving her lips, and I re-dress and head out the door.
“Are you really that selfish?”
I turn to the voice and find Lizzy’s neighbor, George. Fuck. Probably not good that he knows I stayed the night. “Are you talking to me?”
George rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I am. Do you even care how miserable she’s been the last few months? She moved in here and went through every day like a woman serving her sentence. She went to work, came home, slept, ate just enough to function. You did that to her. You’re the ex, right?”
I rub the back of my neck. I really don’t like George. “None of this is any of your business.”
“I care about her.”
“No one asked you to.”
“But that’s what you do when you’re a decent guy—you care about the people in your life. Not just yourself. But I don’t expect you to know what that’s like.”
“Listen, dickhead. Back off. You don’t know anything about my life or my relationship with Liz.”
“I know enough,” he mutters. “These walls aren’t that thick.”
Well, fuck. “You’re mistaken. Liz and I are friends. That’s all.” The lie feels like a betrayal to Liz, but there’s no way around it.
“You off to meet your fiancée now? Does she know that you have overnight visits with your ‘friends’?” I take a step forward, and he holds up a hand. “I don’t care about Sabrina or you, frankly, so you don’t need to worry about me wrecking that little arrangement for you.”
“What do you want?” I ask. His eyes cut to Lizzy’s door, and my stomach clenches hard. He wants her, but he can’t fucking have her. “Don’t meddle in matters you don’t understand.”
He shakes his head. “She was getting better. Eating more, smiling—not much, but sometimes. She was starting to live her life rather than endure it. But now you’re back.”
“She’s fine.”
He nods. “Sure. But I wonder what’s going to happen when you break her heart again. You’re probably telling her that things aren’t serious with Sabrina, that the engagement’s a cover-up for the sex-tape scandal, and as soon as the election is over you two can be together again. Am I right?”
I turn on my heel and head to the stairs. I don’t like him knowing so many of my secrets, but I especially don’t like him waving my promises to Liz in front of my face as proof that I don’t deserve her.
Because I’m afraid he’s right.
* * *
