Page 2 of Right Next Door (Stone Family #3)

A few weeks ago, Ian and I headed up the crew for the annual community spring cleanup, and I think it’s the fastest we’ve ever accomplished everything.

Because of him being in charge. I am always one of the leads on the project, but I don’t think very many people take me seriously—I know I’m too soft-spoken, and I’m working on it…

still. Although, with him next to me? All of the volunteers hopped right to their chores.

Some people might assume he’s mean from the way he looks, but he’s not.

At least, I’ve never experienced the supposed grumpy asshole side he allegedly has, according to the accounts of others.

He’s only ever been gentle and kind with me, and I find myself telling him everything.

“My husband and I, we’ve been together a long time. We?—”

“Since you used to come up to work with your aunt, right?”

I nod. I’m originally from Florida, and I happily accepted my aunt’s invitation to live with her during the summers while I was in college.

With three brothers, I didn’t much fit into the “football is life” world, and I never felt very seen or heard until Aunt Sue brought me into her home, providing a quiet bookworm a safe space to be herself.

I met Bryce during one of those summers.

He was on break from a graduate program, and we went on a few dates, but both of us were leaving to go back to school soon, so he said we shouldn’t make any promises to each other.

I should’ve known then.

“We started dating once I moved here permanently, and he finished his PhD,” I tell Ian to fill in the context, but it feels like I’m spilling too much information. Though he makes no sign I am.

Instead, he asks, “He’s still teaching at the university?”

“Yeah, anthropology.”

Ian purses his lips, motioning for me to go on.

“We started…” I bite the inside of my lip, unsure if I should tell him this part.

Exposing our secrets feels a little too close to being unfaithful.

Then again, Bryce doesn’t want to be faithful to me, so…

“It’s not like there were sparks when we met, we were a low-and-slow kind of relationship, but that was okay with me.

I never expected fireworks and…” I open and close my fist, searching for words.

“Passion like that, it’s only for books and fairy tales. ”

Ian huffs out a dubious sound but otherwise stays quiet.

I stare at the table, ashamed. “We decided to go to couples counseling. We’ve been going for a few months, and then all of a sudden, today he told me he wants an open marriage. He thinks if we try other things, we’ll be able to figure out how to be happy with each other.”

“Some thing else?” Ian repeats. “Or some one else?”

“Does it matter?” I lift my gaze to find his cheeks ruddy above his graying beard.

He breathes out a sardonic chuckle. “I guess it doesn’t matter when he’s a fuckwit, no.”

Even after Bryce has pulled the rug out from under me, I still have the instinct to protect him. “He’s not a…”

Ian arches his brow in a challenge, as if he knows I won’t repeat his curse.

I set my shoulders and prove him wrong. “He’s not a fuckwit. He’s very intelligent. He?—”

“He’s a fuckwit.” Ian slices his hand through the air. “The faster you accept that, the better, and I say you let him fuck around and find out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ian ignores my question to ask me another one. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.” I’m embarrassed by the way my voice cracks. I didn’t give Bryce an answer, too stunned to even form coherent sentences, and we agreed we’d talk about it tonight. Although I still don’t know what I’ll say. “I thought he was happy. I thought we were happy.”

Ian’s dubious expression has me backtracking.

“At least, I thought we weren’t unhappy.” I sniffle and wipe my nose with the napkin he hands me. “I never expected… I always do the right thing. I always make the right choices, and maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the?—”

“Don’t,” he growls. “I don’t want to hear that bullshit. There is nothing wrong with you.” Then he lowers his voice, each word prodding at my tender underbelly as if it’s his lips soothing me, kissing each of my bruises and cuts. “Now, stop crying because you’re breaking my heart.”

He hands me another napkin, gently scraping his knuckles along my jaw. A silent Keep your chin up in his gaze.

I do, and he nods in satisfaction. I am inexplicably proud.

“I want you to do something.” He leans toward me, so I lean in too. “I want you to go home and do some research. Look up ENM.”

“ENM?” I repeat quietly.

“Ethical non-monogamy and polyamory. Before you make any decisions, you need to know what you’re doing.”

These words are familiar to me but in a far-off way.

“Can you do that?” Ian prods, and I sit up tall. I was nothing if not a good student.

“I love homework. I’ll do it.”

His dark eyes glint with something I don’t understand, but the way his lips curl dangerously sends shivers down my spine.

“Good girl,” he says and stands to accept the box of pastries from Eloise before heading out of the bakery, leaving me staring after him.

Good girl .

I never knew how much I’d like that. How happy it would make me feel.

Because there is nothing I do better than please people, and I think I would really like pleasing Ian Stone.