Page 13 of Hitched at Randy’s (Diner Days)
Thirteen
Cam
I steady the carrot, lining it up before bringing the knife down to cut it in rounds. My hands almost move on autopilot as I listen to the running water echoing from the shower. I barely slept last night and all because my big mouth had to go and suggest Evan find somewhere else to sleep. Being alone in my bed after the past few nights with Evan felt … lonely. It’s irrational to think that I’m used to cuddling with him when it’s been a little under a week, but I don’t know what else it could be. Sure, it was nice not to wake up with morning wood, but I tossed and turned all night, trying to get comfortable without the weight of him by my side.
“Hey, Cam,” Evan says, and I turn to see him wearing nothing but a towel. There’s water dripping down his chest and part of me hears him say something about using the last of the shampoo, but my eyes have wandered to follow the droplets down Evan’s broad chest. That’s when I notice the sharp sting on my finger.
“Fuck,” I drop the knife, noticing the results of my little distraction. My thumb is bleeding all over the cutting board.
“Shit,” Evan is next to me in a moment. He grabs my hand, leading me to the sink and rinsing out the cut. He turns off the water and wraps my hand with a towel. My head spins, trying to keep up with the moment and the blood loss. I take a deep breath in and let it out. That’s when I notice the towel he wrapped around my hand is a bath towel.
“Uh, Evan, are you naked in my kitchen right now?”
“Is that what distracted you?” he asks with a laugh. “The towel was the first thing around I could grab. Are you okay?”
I unwrap the towel enough to get a better look at the cut. There’s a slice down the length of my thumb. It’ll bleed for a bit, but it looks shallow enough. Parts of it have already stopped bleeding. “I’ll be fine. There’s a first aid kit on top of the fridge.” I turn to get it at the same time as Evan and get a clear view of his ass as he reaches up. “Evan, I’ve got this. Please go get some clothes on.”
He pulls down the first aid kit, setting it on the counter and pulling out gauze, antibiotic cream, and medical tape. “Let me help.” Evan grabs my arm, unwrapping the towel and applying the cream to the cut. He works with a calm sense of urgency, cleaning and bandaging the cut. “There.” He grabs the towel, noting the blood, and holds it in front of his crotch rather than wrapping it around his waist again. “Go sit down on the couch, and let me finish this up. I’ll be right back after I get dressed.” He leads me to the living room, and I pretend I’m not watching his ass when he walks away.
Damn, I need to get it together. It’s a good thing Evan was able to take charge of the situation and the cut wasn’t too serious. I got lucky all things considered. When Evan walks into the room again, he’s wearing a full outfit, thankfully. As nice as he looks naked, I don’t think that’s going to help either of us finish dinner. He has on a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt, which admittedly still looks good, but it’s nowhere near as distracting. “You don’t have to finish cooking. I can handle it,” I tell him as I stand up.
“Cam, even if you can manage a knife with that bandage, I’m not sure it’s the best idea. It’s fine. I can chop some vegetables. I got this. If you want to help, you can come in the kitchen and walk me through what you were planning on making. I’m guessing there’s more to dinner than chopped carrots and potatoes.” Evan grabs the knife and sets it in the sink before tossing the vegetables that got blood on them and grabbing the sponge to clean up the last of the mess. With that out of the way, he washes the knife and transfers the food to a bowl to wash the cutting board before he chops the rest of the carrots.
“There’s chicken breasts in the fridge,” I tell him. “I was planning on stuffing them with cream cheese and herbs, then sauteing the vegetables in olive oil. You sure I can’t help? I feel weird, just standing here and watching.” I lean against the counter, watching as Evan grabs the chicken and cream cheese out of the fridge.
“If you keep asking, I’m going to send you back to the living room,” he jokes.
“My husband is so mean to me,” I say with a pout. Then I realize how that sounded as Evan turns to look at me, one of his eyebrows raised in amusement. He has a half smile on his face as he takes a step closer.
“I think I can handle making us dinner, hubby.” Evan reaches over my shoulder to grab a mixing bowl for the cream cheese. Even jokingly, it sounds nice to hear. I have to remind myself that all of this isn’t real. I watch as Evan cuts up the fresh herbs, mixing them into the cream cheese before carefully cutting the chicken breasts to stuff them with the mixture. I’m decent in the kitchen, but he moves around with a skilled focus, watching each careful flick of the knife. He’s attentive in ways that I struggle with on most tasks. It’s hard to keep my mind on the task when there’s always a million thoughts running through my head.
Once the chicken is in the oven, Evan heats a pan with oil on the stove, getting it ready for the vegetables. “Can I keep you as my personal chef?” I ask.
Evan laughs, looking at me over his shoulder. “You couldn’t afford me,” he tells me with a smile. I watch him push the food around with the spatula, cooking it evenly in the pan. Before I know it, he’s pulling the chicken out of the oven, and it’s a perfect golden brown. Evan grabs a fork and cuts part of it, humming in approval to himself before he turns to me, holding up the bite. I obediently open my mouth, letting him place the chicken in my mouth. It’s warm, but not hot enough to burn. The cream cheese melts in my mouth, spreading the taste of the herbs. Mmm , I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. Evan leans closer, and without thinking, I press my lips to his.
He doesn’t pull away. Evan parts his lips, his tongue pressing against mine. I lift my hand to set it on his hip and the fabric of his shirt shifts, my fingers grazing his bare skin. That’s when Evan pulls back. “I should, uh,” he doesn’t finish the sentence, turning around and his hand finds the knob on the stove, turning off the flame. I know what’s coming next. He already turned me down at the club. “Dinner’s ready,” Evan says, smoothly skipping over the kiss altogether. I’m not sure if it’s less painful than getting shot down again or not.
“Right, I’ll get the plates.” I try not to let my feelings show on my face as I turn and open the cabinet. We set the table, moving the food and dishes until everything is in place, and take our seats. We’re dancing around the elephant in the room, but it feels less awkward this time. “I have another game night coming up the day after tomorrow,” I tell him. It’s my attempt to switch to a safer topic and not feel like a fool. “I get it if you’d rather stay here, but you’re welcome to join me.”
“That sounds fun. It was nice last time,” Evan answers. He scoops up veggies onto his plate. “I was thinking maybe we could watch something together after dinner.”
It’s not like we haven’t already been hanging out most evenings, but we haven’t kissed and called each other hubby before. Something about this feels different. “Yeah,” I agree. “We could do that.”
As great as the food is, it’s difficult to eat with the butterflies in my stomach. I manage maybe half of what’s on my plate before I call it quits. Evan finishes his food around the same time, and we clean our spots, putting away the extra food and rinsing our plates. By silent agreement, we head for the living room and take seats side by side on the couch. Evan reaches for the remote, turning on the TV and scrolling through the streaming apps before he stops on a romantic comedy movie. He settles into the couch, slouching into the arm, and I fight the urge to lean into him.
Does it mean something that Evan put on a romance movie after we kissed? Am I reading into this too much? I can hardly focus on the screen as thoughts swim through my head. I know I’m overthinking when Evan places his hand on my leg. “Cam, relax. I can hear you thinking from over here.”
“I don’t want you to say no again,” I blurt out.
Evan wraps his arm around my shoulders, sitting up to lean into me. “I’m not saying no. Maybe I should, but I don’t think it’s that simple. I don’t know how long we can keep fighting this thing.” His face is right in front of mine by the time he finishes speaking. It’d be so easy to close the gap and kiss him again. As tempting as that is, I need to clear the air and be sure.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But maybe we owe it to ourselves to stop fighting this. Get it out of our systems.”
Get it out of our systems. I know he just got out of a serious relationship. Evan isn’t looking for more, and I don’t think I am either. As long as we go into this knowing it has an end date, maybe it’s not a terrible idea. “Like a friends-with-benefits thing while you’re here?” I ask. “Just until we finalize the divorce?”
“Exactly.” He licks his bottom lip and this time I don’t hold back. I lean in and press my lips to Evan’s. His arms wrap around my neck, holding me to him as we kiss.
“Do you wanna sleep in the bed tonight? I mean, not saying we have to do something, but it’s gotta be more comfortable than the air mattress.”
“Cam,” he says my name with a laugh. “Yes, I’d like that, but I’m also not against the idea of doing something if you want.” He places his hand on my thigh, edging closer to my crotch. “I want this.”