Where Love Lies, page 11
“So what? They’re part of nature bitch!” Owen sneers, stepping in front of his concrete yard ornament.
Stepping off the porch, I make my way over to see what insight I might be able to offer. I mean, they’re always in my business…
“Seriously, Tenly, do you have to do this now?” Flynn asks, standing in buffalo checkered pajama pants, sounding nearly half asleep.
“Hey, guys. Everything okay?” I ask, walking up to them.
“No, this devil bitch hates nature and wants me to take my birdbath down.” Owen doesn’t back down, ready to fight Tenly over this, his red robe flying open behind him.
“It’s just a birdbath.” I look between them, not understanding. It’s not like a bear is going to come wash its face.
Everyone quiets. Tenly snaps her eyes to me. I don’t give in to her silent threats.
“See?” Owen gestures toward me. Flynn holds his head, ready for this to be over so he can go back to bed.
Silence falls onto our shoulders. Tenly crosses her arms.
“If it’s overlooked and someone else does it and says, ‘Oh, you let them do it,’ then it’s my ass! I’ll double check with the HEA. If they agree, it comes down, Owen.” Her voice is lighter, more accepting than the screaming match they were just in.
“Looking forward to it,” he snaps. Tenly huffs and jogs away, leaving me with the guys.
“Are all mornings this entertaining?” I ask. Flynn grins.
“With Owen and Tenly, we could open a ringside attraction.”
Laughing, I look to Owen. He closes his robe, shaking off his anger like a cold chill.
“She has it out for me and you know it, Flynn,” he says sternly. “So, I would ask how last night went, but the whole neighborhood heard how well it went.”
My mouth parts in disbelief. My face fuming with embarrassment. Is he insinuating he could hear me having sex?
“No,” I gush, praying he’s just teasing.
Flynn shakes his head. “He’s just messing with you.”
My shoulders deflate in relief. I glare at Owen laughing his ass off at my expense.
Game on.
17
Six weeks later
“Woman, do you hear me?” Owen’s high-pitched voice cuts through my thoughts. I blink a few times to clear my head. Sitting out back at Owen and Flynn’s, I sigh in frustration, as I perch my pink toes on the edge of a metal patio chair. I was listening until he started getting excited about Heston possibly proposing, then I zoned out. My first marriage didn’t work out, why would I tread that path again? Then again, Heston and I are moving fast so the thought of marriage isn’t preposterous. In the last six weeks, he sold all his furniture and put his place up for sell. He’s even been helping Paige with her pitching a softball. Something her dad was supposed to be doing but fell short. He always promises her things and then ends up with some excuse why he can’t follow through. She used to buy whatever lame reason he gave but now that she’s older she knows he’s a liar and doesn’t expect much from him.
“I hear you. I just think you’re wrong.” Looking over my shoulder, I bat my eyes with a close-lipped smile, knowing that disagreeing with him will rub him the wrong way. He stares back at me before lifting his hand to inspect his cuticles. Oh, how I love his drama queen tantrums.
“He’s right though, I think Heston is going to propose. Even if it’s only been six weeks, you should see the way he looks at you,” Flynn adds, resting his elbow on the table. I think back on the 42 days and how great it’s been. Showering together, working in the yard, and fucking until we can’t breathe. I feel a blanket of security having him here. I feel safe and cared for, not just for myself but for Paige too. In fact, when he leaves, I start overthinking all the things: what if he doesn’t come back? Am I truly in love with him? Is he in love with me? Then I start talking to my mother’s urn, asking her the same crazy questions and wishing she could tell me when she knew she was in love? It’s like I can’t move on without her, the idea of her being gone sinks into the pit of my stomach where I’m deeply afraid I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.
“Like an obsessed little boy with a new toy.” Owen scoffs, and I roll my eyes at his absurdity.
“Look how protective he is over you and Paige. No man would act that way without good intentions,” Flynn adds, and I sigh just thinking about it. I swear in the last six weeks, I’ve had to become a referee between Cam and Heston. If they cross paths, there’s always some kind of physical altercation. Heston says he can’t help it because he can’t stand the way Cam talks to me. That Paige and I deserve better. If it were up to him, Paige would never go to Cam’s, but the fact that Cam’s her father and he does try, even if he’s not the most reliable.
Red finches fly around Owen and Flynn’s birdfeeder, quickly landing, only to take to the air again when a mockingbird decides to land next to them. “How lucky they are to just be able to up and fly away to wherever they please,” I say, my voice thick with envy.
“Yeah, but some landings take you straight into the cat’s den.”
“True,” I mutter. I don’t know what I think about Heston proposing. We burn so hot, moving through the steps of a relationship too fast. I’m happy with him, but I don’t know if I should marry him. I know this is what happy couples do so I shouldn’t be surprised but I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.
The wind shifts from the south, blowing a hard, hot breeze. I close my eyes and ease back as the smell of cut grass and sweet purple azaleas surrounds me. The birds chirp. The wind rustling the leaves of the big oak trees behind the property line. As the breeze wanes, I open my eyes, feeling calmer. Owen and Flynn have been my neighborly therapists for a while now, so much so that I don’t know what I’d do without them. Standing, I stretch my arms above my head.
“Well, boys, I need to get home and take over playing catch, I forgot Heston is waiting for a call back about work today.” I wave as I walk toward the side of the house to cross the street back to my house.
“Bye!” they say in unison. As I reach my front porch, I’m left wondering how long I’ve been gone because Paige and Heston are no longer where I left them. Opening my front door, Heston is sitting on the couch in khaki shorts and no shirt.
“Where’s Paige?”
“Her room, I think. I threw a ball a little fast and she tried to catch it with the hand that didn’t have a glove.” He winces. “I think it hurt a finger or two, but nothing’s broke.”
“Oh, man, are you sure she’s okay?”
He nods, a weak smile on his face. “Yeah. She punched me in the arm before calling it quits.”
I sense something is wrong. Plopping down next to him, I place my elbow on the back of the couch and rest my head in my hand.
“Babe, what’s wrong? Something’s bothering you.” Sighing, he pushes my legs off of him and heads to the kitchen.
Looking over the couch, I rest one arm on the back and look at him. “Tell me!”
His back rises with a deep breath, then he turns, putting his hands flat on the counter with his head drawn low.
“I just found out before you walked in that the house didn’t close. The buyers backed out. My boss is pissed. He’s putting me back on smaller properties.” Pushing off the counter, he jerks the fridge door open and bends to grab a soda before slamming it shut. I don’t understand real estate. I haven’t even met his boss or any of his clients, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s new to this kind of profession and he’s still learning the ropes.
“Well, that’s not fair. It’s not your fault the owners wanted so much for it.”
“Yeah, maybe. I won’t be making as much, though. Don’t you have an art show coming up or something? How much do you make at those?” His question about my work comes out of the blue. I’m concerned about where he’s going with this.
“A couple hundred.” I shrug. “But you don’t need to worry about money. I have some if we get in a pinch. You should focus—”
“That’s not the way it works, Rain. If I’m going to live here, I should help!” His voice rises, and a chord in his neck strains as he scowls at me. A peak of his dark side lurks behind his charming smile, and romantic gestures. At first a seed but not it’s a full stalk of nothing but thorns.
“I understand, you’re the man of the house and want to support us.” I honestly have never seen a man want to be the one working; men like that don’t exist in my life, so this is both surprising and refreshing.
“This money you have, I’m assuming it’s from your mother?” He shakes his head. “You need to save that and get a job.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face by his comment, so much so that I sit with my mouth open and my throat cinched up, unable to respond.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Cool off,” he mutters, looking down at his soda before walking off.
Sulking, I burrow myself into the couch and sigh. I feel bad he was demoted, but I’m sure we’ll be fine. His questions about how much I make though, doesn’t sit well with me. It’s something Cam used to always bring up and then follow it up with an insinuation that I don’t contribute enough. I mean, sure it would be nice if I could make way more on my pottery, but it takes time to get to that level. Defeat settles in my chest as I stare at the dust motes that float in the sun beaming through the blinds from window. This hobby of mine seems to really bother the men I’m with; they act as if the money I make from my art doesn’t matter and is somehow lesser than what they do. Why does it matter though? I have money who cares where it came from? Money is money! I don’t think I would have won today’s argument if I tried, it all results back to one thing. Me getting a real job with steady income.
18
Feeling hot and sweaty, I flip my pillow, searching for coolness, but as soon as I lie my head back down, it warms. Huffing, I kick the blankets off of me and reach for Heston, wanting to feel his body, to know he’s still in bed with me. Especially after our fight yesterday.
My hand swipes cool, empty sheets. Raising my head, I look to see that Heston is gone. My brow furrows, and I look around the bedroom.
“Heston?” I call out. When no one replies, I get up, grab my robe from the back of the door, and pad down the hall. The living room and kitchen are dark and quiet, but there’s a slight hint of coffee in the air. Where is he? It’s not like him to leave the lights off. I go into the kitchen to find the coffee pot mostly full and a note left in front of it.
See you at dinner. - Heston
I scoff, turning the note over for more of an explanation. We usually wake up together. The fact that he didn’t get me up and left a half-assed note upsets me.
Grabbing my phone, I text him.
Me: Why didn’t you wake me?
Heston: I don’t know.
Biting my bottom lip, angry with the impersonable message, I look at the clock on the stove. Ten. Man, I really slept in. I just don’t get why he left without waking me up, and his explanation doesn’t give me any answers. Fuming, I make myself a cup of coffee, slamming cabinets and growing more pissed by the second. I need a neighbor therapy session. Exiting the front door, I walk across the street and head to Owen and Flynn’s. I go around to the back door, finding them sitting at their patio table with fresh fruit and juice. Slumping into a seat, I grab a strawberry and bite into it.
“You okay?” Flynn asks, scratching his chest.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Spill it,” Owen demands, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s just…Heston didn’t wake me up this morning, and when I asked him why he didn’t, he said he didn’t know. Like, what does he mean, he doesn’t know?” I vomit my feelings all over their breakfast, watching Flynn’s brows rise and Owen eat up everything I’m giving him.
“So, you’re mad he didn’t wake you up? Don’t you have an alarm on your phone for that?” Flynn asks, totally not getting it.
“No, it’s not that. It’s the fact that we wake up together every morning; we talk, have sex, and share some laughs. We get up and make coffee and start our day together. We’ve done it for weeks now. He even said it was his favorite part of the day, and then for some reason, I wake up today and he’s gone. Then I ask him what happened and he just doesn’t know. How is that his answer? What the hell?” My voice rises as I continue to explain, my heart hammering against my chest.
“The honeymoon phase faded fast, baby girl,” Owen says, reaching for some fruit.
“Honeymoon?” I ask, unsure what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, you’re starting to settle down and become a couple,” Flynn answers for him.
“That was just an asshole move honestly.” Owen raises a brow.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe it’s from our fight yesterday,” I mutter, thinking about how upset he was over our finances.
“That fire burned too hot and is snuffing out,” Owen adds. A lump forms in my throat. I love the butterflies, the touching, missing one another when we’re apart. The way Heston’s been acting recently, though, hasn’t been pleasant, and I don’t know what to do about it. What do I say—I don’t like you, so please change?
19
One week later
I grab my robe laying haphazardly on the dresser and slip it on. Tying it while walking into the living room and finding Paige and Heston already up. It’s a nice surprise to see him home, instead of working to make up his big loss. We could use some time together. Every day this week, I’ve wakened up alone. No kiss on the forehead, no whisper that he loves me. It’s as if I’m just a pair of socks on the floor that he doesn’t remember having.
“I wonder what his job is,” Paige says, staring out the living room window.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask.
“Tenly. Layla texted me that her husband is home. I guess it’s a big deal because nobody ever sees him,” Paige informs me, her breath fogging up the window.
“I haven’t met him,” Heston says from the couch, tapping his chin with the remote.
“Yeah, me neither,” I mumble. Pushing Paige out of the way, I glance out the window, checking out the SUV parked across the street. I should go over there and knock on her door like she does every time something new or unexpected happens to any of us. I bet Owen and Flynn are staring out their blinds too. My eyes shift to their house. Finding the curtains moving in the window, I can’t help but smile. My nosy friends are the best. Standing up straight, I let Paige go back to gawking and head toward the coffee. I open the fridge, reach for the pitcher of cold brew, then turn toward the counter, smacking into Heston’s hard chest. The coffee splashes, nearly spilling onto the floor.
I let out a squeal of surprise. “Oh my god, you scared me.”
He takes the pitcher from me and sets it on the counter behind him.
“Babe, I want to apologize. I’ve been having a hard time at work and I took it out on you.”
I tuck hair behind my ear and cross my arms, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“I mean, you moved in here Heston, so it’s not fair for you to tell me to get a job because you felt like you weren’t making enough.”
“I know, I was just in a bad mood that day.” But that’s not the truth, he’s always snapping or saying things that come off wrong.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I look away.
“You should do your pottery thing if it makes you happy.” He smiles, and suddenly everything is right in the world. I’m in his arms, he’s looking at me like he used to, like I’m the only thing he wants in life. It’s unnatural the way he moves on so quickly, it makes me think he’s Bipolar.
I place my hand on his smooth chest and smile up at him. Having him close feels good. I missed us being like this.
“I don’t have to worry about money. My mother made sure Paige and me were taken care of, so I could build my portfolio.”
His chest lifts with a large inhale, and he shakes his head. “My mother had two jobs, and my father had a career that had him tied to a desk seven days a week. Money is just a reminder that I don’t want to be like that.”
“Wow,” I mumble. All of that sounds horrible, like they were surviving not living.
“So this is new to me is all, I’m still learning…how to be with someone.” He places his hand on mine and I look into his eyes, the color of the sky just before a storm. He’s told me he’s had girlfriends before me, which I expected, but they never lasted more than a week because he didn’t feel a connection with any of them past sex. It didn’t turn me off because when we first met, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. We just kind of happened.
The front door opens, and I pull the sash to my robe tighter. I see a flash of pink and muscles sprint by me into the foyer. It’s Owen with Flynn beside him.
“What are you two up to?” I ask, walking toward them.
“Did you see him?” Owen asks, fanning himself after running over here in the midsummer heat of South Carolina. Flynn stands coolly, lifting his hand and smoothing his hair back.
“See who?”
“What do you mean, who? Tenly’s husband! Duh!” Owen shouts.
“What’s the big deal about this guy? I don’t understand why everyone’s acting like this.” I laugh. Watching everyone squirm is like watching drunk people when you’re sober.
“Are you serious right now?” Owen looks to Flynn. “I can’t tell if she’s joking.” Flynn just smiles, and Owen tosses a hand at him in dismissal, before looking back at me.
“It’s Asher Mathew, the plastic surgeon.” He looks at me like I should know who he’s talking about. I stare back, still clueless. “Celebrities and deep-pocketed fat cats seek him out for secret augmentation,” he continues.
“Tenly said he had a show before he got tired of all the fans trying to unmask who he was working on—which affected his clientele, of course,” Flynn adds.
