Page 1 of Contingently Yours

Andrew

Why do I hear noise? It cannot possibly be anywhere near ten a.m.

Cracking an eye open, the light coming from my bathroom strains my cornea. A curvy, toweled figure with a pleased smile emerges. She saunters past the end of the bed, flaunting her state of consciousness. Devil woman. It’s like she knows she woke me up and is proud of it.

“Ugh. Why are you mobile? Sleep time,” I mumble with my lips squished against my pillow and close my eyes again. “ Still… sleep time.”

An ethereal laugh and the soft steps of feet against the carpeting tell me she’s gathering her clothing and ignoring the important fact I’ve just voiced. Sleepovers are not supposed to be interrupted by early risers.

“Not everyone has the luxury of working for their family,” comes Veronica’s teasing reply. “Some people’s work days start before noon.”

Grunting, I ignore her bitterness disguised as mockery and roll onto my back. Flexing my toes, I yawn and run my hand down my stomach under the covers, trying to coax my body back to sleep.

“Come back to bed,” I murmur, unsticking my cock from my thigh and giving it a good morning stroke. “You make more money than I do. You can miss a day.”

“I don’t think you need me,” she chuckles. “Looks like you’ve got yourself covered.”

Opening both eyes now, I locate her on her way back to the bathroom. Snickering, she stops by my dressers and flashes an accusatory look at the outline of my fist where it’s underneath the comforter.

Yeah, my hand is on my dick, but that doesn’t mean anything. I just wanted to snuggle. Snuggle and sleep.

“I had an itch.”

More laughter. Dropping her towel, she brandishes a clean pair of underwear from her purse like it’s a Giving Tree and shimmies into them. “Drew, I’ve never seen anyone touch their cock as much as you do. I’m not even sure why you call me.”

“What?” My hand freezes on the cock in question, but I realize doing so probably makes me look guilty when I have nothing to feel guilty about.

“That’s not what... I just don’t like it sticking to my thigh first thing in the morning.

You’d know this if you wouldn’t get out of bed at an unreasonable hour,” I grouse.

Closing my eyes again, I give myself a comforting stroke.

“Someone’s clearly salty because they didn’t get enough sleep and are trying to take it out on me now. ”

Her chuckle is subdued this time. I hear the shift of more clothing and then the clip of heels on my bathroom flooring.

Jeez. She really is leaving. She’s a sadist.

Playing possum, I still my hand on my cock as I hear her approach. Soft lips grace my forehead, and her lilac scent wafts over me. Just as she starts to move back, I snake my free arm around her waist and tug her closer.

“You know, I’m kind of awake now after all that noise someone made.”

Laughing, she presses a hand to my chest. “Sorry, Sleeping Beauty, but I have to go. I’m leaving for Brussels tomorrow and have to pack.”

All pretenses and realities of being sleep deprived evaporate on that info bomb. My eyes flare open, taking in her long auburn locks spilling over her shoulders and the unflappable look on her face. Is she serious?

“Brussels? For how long?”

“Two months, I think.”

“Two months? What am I supposed to do for two months?”

It’s not until the words are out and Veronica’s head rears back with a curious look on her face that I realize how monogamous that sounded. Monogamous and desperate. I am neither, by any means.

“Uh…the same thing we’ve always done?”

I know she’s referring to our no-strings-attached arrangement, but she’s never been out of the country for that long.

And, truth be told, I honestly can’t remember the last time I slept with another woman.

Made out, sure. A few oral exchanges, yeah.

But sex… Well, I think it’s been a little over a year since I’ve dipped my nib in another pool.

What can I say—I’m happy with our dynamic.

It’s easy and requires no effort. I tell her when I’m in town, we meet up, and vice versa.

Convenience at its finest. Her leaving for two months is going to be highly inconvenient.

Glancing at my recent birthday gift from my parents, I see that it’s only just after nine.

Veronica is so being a dick getting up this early and dumping this news on me, but it’s not the time that annoys me as much as it is the sight of my gift.

I’m officially thirty-five as of last week.

I’m starting to feel…old. Not like arthritis and I-need-a-back-pill old, but the kind of old that makes a guy reconsider his routines.

Most of the women I meet anymore are much younger than me, and while I enjoy a night of rolling under the covers, it kind of kills the mood when they tell you you’re hot for an older man.

‘Older man . ’

I still remember that comment from a woman I went home with from a club last year. She understood none of my jokes or references. I was never the type of person who needed an emotional connection, but damn, it would be nice to not feel like I was just thawed out after two decades of cryosleep.

Sitting up, I slide my hand down to Veronica’s and give it a squeeze. Flashing her a smile, I lean on my reliable charm. Thirty-five or not, I know I’ve at least still got that.

“What if we keep doing the same thing we’ve always done, but just…with each other?”

Why is she doing that head-rearing thing again? Arching a brow, the corner of her mouth ticks up. “Are you…asking me to be exclusive with you?”

My phone starts buzzing on the nightstand, but I ignore it. This conversation needs to happen, so I’m not at the mercy of hitting the bar scene and hook-up apps anymore. It’s too fucking tiresome.

Shrugging like it’s no big deal, because it isn’t, I stretch my arms behind my head, lacing my fingers together.

“I mean, why not? We both get each other and know what the other likes. We both work and travel all the time. It works. It’d save us the disappointment of shitty hook-ups.

Right?” Snapping my fingers, I chuckle, recalling the perfect example.

“Remember that guy you said you met at that convention in Denver last year? The one who grunted every three or four sentences and kept telling you he liked your eyebrows? Think of all the weirdos you could avoid if we just met up more often.”

“Wow, Andrew, that is…a tempting offer,” she chuckles, straightening up. “But listen to what you’re saying. If you want to settle down, then make the effort and go find someone to settle down with. We’ve never been that to each other. We have…fun. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s always been.”

“Who said anything about settling down?”

Rolling her eyes, she moves back to my dresser and fetches her purse.

Slinging it over her shoulder, she calls back, “Being exclusive, sleeping with only each other; that’s almost the same thing as settling down.

It might be fine and dandy until the other person meets someone they want to settle down with, but then what happens?

Someone’s left disappointed. So, in the end, it’s not any better than what you’re used to.

The outcome will still be the same, just prolonged. ”

God, I hate when she wakes up before I do. It gives her time to be more mentally cognizant than me. And how did this become a deep conversation when it should have only been a really good offer that would solve both of our problems?

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me meeting someone to settle down with. Are you trying to tell me you’re waiting for Mr. Right?”

Turning around, she pinches her eyes shut and groans. “Andrew,” she huffs with a laugh, “most people want to settle down eventually. Just because I work and travel all the time doesn’t mean I don’t keep my eyes open.”

Ew. Who is she? How come I never knew this?

“That’s disgusting. Please don’t ever talk like that again.”

Snickering, she rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket off the hook on the wall. “Don’t worry. I haven’t met him yet. I’ll call you when I get back.”

Folding my arms, I grimace as my phone buzzes again. I was dead to the world and wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t woken me up to the worst fuck-buddy goodbye in history.

“I’ll answer if I’m available,” I call out, hoping I sound as spiteful as I feel.

“Sure,” she says, sounding way too amused. Shaking her head, she blows me a kiss. “For now, why don’t you answer the call you do have? It could be Lou.”

This isn’t funny. The first offer of being something close to a boyfriend I’ve ever made to anyone is being received with mockery.

Swiping up my phone, I see that it is, in fact, my Uncle Lou’s real estate office. Son of a bitch.

Turning the phone so she can see the screen, I waggle it in the air.

“See? You do know me. Think of how convenient it would be not to have any surprises. You could be waking up next week to some guy’s phone going off in Brussels, thinking he’s Mr. Right, only to find out it’s his mother calling him to come do her weekly chin whisker trimming for her.

” Clicking on the accept button, I sneak a peek at Veronica to see if my words of wisdom are sinking in. “Hey, gorgeous, what’s up?”

It’s not Lou. It’s our sixty-year-old receptionist, Vera. She also happens to be my aunt, but you get more flies with honey than vinegar.

“I know you don’t mean that, but it’s always nice to hear. That’s why I call you.”

“Well, I am your favorite nephew.”

“No. That would be Chad.”

“What? How in the hell is Chad your favorite?”

That is just not possible. My older brother Chad is the most boring human being on the planet.

“He buys me those candles I like for my birthday every year.”