Page 26 of Contingently Yours
It’s now that I notice the rapture in his gaze has been infected by something that looks a lot like fear.
Nodding dumbly, I accept the bar from him.
He turns and shuffles down the two steps to the picnic table and wraps his towel around his waist, not even bothering to dry himself off.
The high I’ve been floating on crashes, bringing me back to earth.
I’m not going to get a kiss. Nor a comment.
No more heady words. Not even his usual snark. Nothing.
That can’t be it , a voice inside me cries.
Except, another brutally honest one tells me it is.
Picking up both his clean and dirty clothes, he starts toward the path to the house.
A wanton ache in my chest knows it means he doesn’t even want to stay long enough to get dressed in front of me.
He stops, though, making my breath catch in my throat.
Half-turning his head toward me, he asks, “I’ll see you on the patio?”
He can’t even look at me. Andrew—effervescent Andrew, the man who drew me into a game I didn’t even know I wanted to play, can’t look at me. I already knew I wasn’t built for casual encounters, but the sinking feeling in my gut signifies that truth as I nod again.
“Yeah,” I call, but it sounds barely like a whisper.
The speed at which he pads away produces another pain in my chest. I tell myself it’s stupid to be feeling like some betrayed lover. I keep telling myself that as I stand under the water, hoping it will rinse away the sensation of his touch.
After I dry off and go around the back of the house to our empty room and change, I’m still trying to tell myself that, but it’s difficult.
My body still wants to revel in the feelings of what occurred under the water.
And the damnedest thing is, I know what betrayal feels like.
I’ve been there because of Shannon and Mark.
Andrew pretending nothing earth-shattering just happened shouldn’t hurt as badly as that did.
When I step out onto the patio, silently hoping for some reprieve, he’s immersed in tending to the food on the grill. That means I’m going to be stuck in this hellish limbo like a starry-eyed teen until whenever we’re alone again.
I find Keenan at my side, asking about the next property we’re going to see in Harlow’s Landing tomorrow.
I’ve gauged that he has the most say in deciding on what will be the throuple’s US family home, since it’s so near his mother’s place.
The topic is just the distraction I need, and I find I can’t contain my excitement over what I hope will be the best we’ve shown him thus far.
Except, as I elaborate on the upcoming property, a niggle of insecurity worms its way under my skin, remembering we started our shower with an audience.
“Um…about the showers earlier,” I preface, unsure how to finish the sentence. “I’m sorry if…uh, if you saw anything that…”
I don’t get to finish, as he chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Lucas, you’re good. I’m guessing we left before it got too heated.”
Jesus. What does that mean? How much did they see or hear?
“Don’t worry.” He laughs. “We’ve been trying to be on our best behavior, so honestly, it put us at ease.”
God. Now I feel even worse in a different way. More deception. But is it really deception if I enjoyed what I was doing and was a very willing participant?
“Still, um, we should be more professional around you. You’re our clients.”
“Oh, my God. No! We think of you two like friends after all of this, hauling us all over the world, arranging for us to have extended stays at listings, lugging our baggage around.” He gestures to Andrew, who still hasn’t looked at me once.
“Even cooking us meals.” Gripping both of my shoulders, he centers himself in front of me, his expression somber.
“You guys are head over heels for each other,” he says softly.
“Don’t think you have to put a lid on it for us.
Enjoy your time together now for when you have to go back to showing listings separately.
You’ll thank me later. I know what it’s like to be apart from the people you want. ”
Head over heels ? Why does it feel more like ass over tea kettle ?
“Um, yeah.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Okay. Thanks.”
I take a seat at the patio table, wallowing in the bizarre irony that I have permission to want a man who doesn’t seem to want me other than past a few heated words each time his hand is on my cock.
As I stare at his profile, I notice his laughter and smiles don’t quite reach his eyes tonight.
Am I being too hard on him? This is all as new to him as it is to me, at least, I assume so.
Maybe he just doesn’t know how to proceed, either.
When our food is ready and we plate it, Andrew takes the seat next to me. I have to force myself to stop sneaking glances at him. And then I have to force my steak down my throat when it becomes apparent that I’m the only one sneaking glances. He really is avoiding me.
Keenan starts talking about his childhood in Massachusetts, including stories about his father, which only worsens the misery in my gut. I must be hitting a new low because the question comes to mind—am I ever going to be good enough for anyone?
I wasn’t for my father. I wasn’t for Shannon, although I ended up eventually not minding that I wasn’t.
But now I’m not good enough for Andrew. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fulfill Julia’s wish for me: ending up with someone who makes me as giddy as she feels with Ty.
Any time I’m faced with the possibility, they leave me or want nothing to do with me.
Andrew lets out a yawn the second his food is gone and excuses himself. My head jostles when he ruffles my hair and wishes me a hurried, “Goodnight.”
No kiss.
No more kisses—it’s a painful verdict I know to be true.
Despite the hurt, I still want him. Why? Am I as fucking stupid as he once insinuated I am?
I shouldn’t be hurt because Andrew sucks as a human being. Except, there are parts of him that don’t suck. A lot of parts I’ve gotten glimpses of. The cynicism and indifference still feel like a smoke screen, concealing a completely different human being. Or is that just wishful thinking?