88. Annie
Chapter Eighty-Eight
ANNIE
D ream: walking down a path. Wearing: a white dress and flowers in my hair. Eyes: fluttering open because someone’s looking at me.
“ W hat time is it?” I ask on a stretch, smiling at Brendan’s sleepy face. His hair is sticking up in funny places, and he looks crazy-adorable.
“I have no idea,” he smiles, reaching to move a lock of hair from my cheek. “I closed the curtains sometime before dawn.”
“Mmm.” Snuggling up to him, I kiss his shoulder and trace the angles of his collarbone, coming up to circle his Adam’s Apple with the tip of my finger. “I left my purse in the stadium.”
H e chuckles. “You mean my living room?”
My eyebrows go up innocently. “You mean they don’t hold the World Series there? They could.”
He laughs. With a firm kiss on the top of my head, he mumbles, “I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care.”
“I have to meet the contractor today.” My legs stretch out and I let my whole body follow, pulling away from him. “So let’s hope it’s still early so we can lie in bed some more and do filthy things to each other.” I climb out of his enormous bed and look over my shoulder to make sure he’s watching. He is, and when his eyes rise to meet mine, I grin. “You should see your face. Do you have a robe?”
His hand languidly points to the door on the wall that stands between the bathroom and hallway doors.
“Let me guess. You’ve got a closet the size of my apartment, too.”
“I haven’t seen your apartment,” he says, behind me.
Throwing him a flirty look, I call over, “Play your cards right and you just might get to.”
His mouth spreads into a groggy grin, and he adjusts the pillow, both hands sliding under his head, his biceps flexed fan-fucking-tastically. “ If I’m lucky…”
“That’s right. If you’re…” I open the door. “HOLY SHIT!”
He busts up laughing. “Jesus. You’re making me feel obnoxious.”
His closet would make a male version of Martha Stewart cum in his pants at the sight. Dark wood. Floor-to-Ceiling shoe shelves. Middle island. A wall of ties sectioned off, and a high-end cubbyhole each filled with its own hat or cap. I grab a thick, navy blue cotton robe, slipping it on as I walk out. “Your baseball hats are spoiled. I bet when you bought them they thought they were going to be shoved in a gym bag with someone’s smelly shoes, not kept in a palace shrine to be bowed down to.”
“The way your mind works.” He smirks. His eyes change and I see the hunger in them again. “My robe looks better on you.” His legs are sprawled out under the blanket – mountains of muscular length with a tent popped up where they meet.
I have no choice but to walk to him and climb on top, the oversized robe impeding my progress but not enough to stop me. “Mmm…”
“This is good. I like this.”
“You like me straddling you like this, huh? I can’t imagine why…” I lean down and kiss him, and rise back up to adjust my legs, moving the robe up a little. “I think the blanket should get out of our way, too, don’t you?”
He nods to one of the nightstands. “We should get a condom.”
Mood: killed.
Not because I don’t use condoms. I used them with Christiano until we decided we were exclusive and I went on the pill, which was in the first month of our meeting. That’s probably why I keep forgetting to use one; I haven’t in years. But now that Brendan’s brought it up, it just reminds me that we are most certainly not exclusive. He made it clear that’s not how he rolls.
So I bend and kiss his forehead. “I need to make sure I’m not missing the meeting with my contractor.”
As I walk barefoot to the door, he calls out, “We have to use one, Annie.”
I flip around, surprised at the straight-on confrontation of what I was hoping to avoid. I touch the wall, looking at the perfect paint job. “I know. It’s okay. I just have to find out what time it is, that’s all.” I glance to see him somberly looking at me. “Brendan – I have no problem with condoms. I don’t want to get pregnant, that’s for sure.”
I just have a problem with thinking of you sleeping with another woman. It dries me right up.
“I can see it bothers you.”
“We all want to go bareback, right? It threw me, yes. But it’s really okay. I just want to make sure we have enough time. I’ll be right back.” With my best reassuring smile, I turn and walk out the door, shutting it behind me so I can have a moment alone to handle my feelings. Loving someone who wants to see other people takes a great deal of patience, and I can only hope I’m up for the task.
As I walk into the living room, everything is very still and quiet. I can’t even hear the hum of a refrigerator. I guess Mark must have gone to work. Walking up to the coffee table, I find our wrappers and take-out bags are gone. He must have cleaned the mess for us. That was considerate of him. I look towards the upstairs floor, thinking of how I underestimated Mark. I wonder if Tommy and Ross were nicer than I thought back then, too? God, I can still see the four of them walking across campus; Reservoir Hunks. Inaccessible to a misfit like me. And here I am now, wearing his robe and walking around their penthouse. I wish I could go back in time and tell my old self how things played out. Where’s a time machine when you need one?
Pulling out my phone, I see another missed call from Christiano. Guilt sinks my heart, bringing my body with it collapsing onto the couch, staring at his name. I can’t call him now. Not only is Brendan in the other room, but it’s just after 10:00 a.m. I have to leave now.
Sigh.
I walk into the bedroom, the phone hanging from my hand, my spirits sunk. “Bad news. I have to go. It’s ten o’clock.”
Brendan frowns and rises up on his elbows, wincing as his ribs bend. He adjusts for comfort. “What time are you supposed to meet him?”
“Eleven.” Walking to him, I smile regretfully. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time. Me thinks I need a shower, to be presentable. And a change of clothes. I didn’t expect to be whisked off to your palace, my king,” I smile.
He pushes off the blanket. “I want to go.”
“Oh.” I step back to give him room to get up, shocked. “Okay.” He didn’t ask if I want him to go, which is good. I think jumping up and down and shouting YES , would have stripped away the last bit of mystery I have left.
“Just give me a minute.” He vanishes into the closet.
A few minutes later, he’s locking up and I’m following him to the elevator. He pushes the button. “Last night and today? They’re the first times I’ve taken the elevator since we moved in.”
“You take the stairs every time? Wow. I don’t know if I have that kind of discipline.”
“You’re taking a Krav Maga class.”
“True.” I smile, and turn my head to watch the numbers go down. I can feel him looking at me, so I glance sideways. “What?”
One corner of his sexy mouth is turned up and his eyes are soft. “You’re beautiful, Annie. You’ve got no makeup on. No lipstick. Your hair’s messy, and---” He shrugs and smiles, turning to watch the buttons light ‘L’ for Lobby. “---you’re beautiful.” The doors open. “After you, Freckles.”
A blush heats up my cheeks and neck as I walk out first. A flash of the party where I got wasted and Corinne got Brendan flies instantly into my mind. The way he looked over at me today and overlooked me then, it makes me a little angry. Walking to my car, I sneak a glance behind me to him, and he is unburdened by conflict, oblivious to how weird this all really is.
We get in the car and drive to my place, without saying much. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m speechless. He’s looking out the window at the city zipping by, tapping his thumb on his thigh in time to the music, unaware that I’m wondering why things had to happen this way, because really… was I that undesirable just because my hair was dyed and I wore more makeup? Isn’t your soul mate supposed to recognize you? Or is it really timing that’s the key? Is it all these things put together? Why did I know, when I saw him ? Is there even such a thing as soul mates, or is that just a product of people’s desire to think their perfect half exists, and if they find…
“Hey.” I glance over. “Stop trying to figure it out.”
I turn left into my tandem parking spot, shift the gear into park, and shove the emergency brake to the floor, mandatory with these crazy hills in the city. Turning the key, the engine dies off and I turn in my seat to ask, “How did you know?”
“I just knew.” He’s already onto different things, his attention grabbed by seeing my home for the first time. He gets out of the car, looking up at the building. “This is a nice place.”
I climb out and lock the doors, watching him as I’m thinking, Annie, don’t sabotage this. Why are you getting worked up over something that happened years ago?
“Thanks. I like it.” I lead the way up the Victorian building’s steps to the first apartment. “Let me give you the five second tour. Five seconds because that’s all it will take.”
He ignores my deprecating joke and follows me around, offering appreciative comments on the bay window and my comfy décor as he takes it all in. Since he’s being so nice, I tell him about some great finds I foraged from yard sales and antique shops, adding details and fun stories as we walk. It’s modest compared to his place, but I’m proud of it. “It’s my first place of my own,” I smile, nowhere left to go.
“I like it. It’s very you. And it’s more comfortable than my place.”
“No way.”
“It is. You’re right. Mine’s too big.”
“No such thing.”
He laughs. “You lived with your ex before you moved in here?”
I stop smiling and look to a fingernail. “Oh. Yes… I did.”
He says nothing more on the subject, but the air is heavier than it was. He turns and walks to my bookshelves, picking up what he thinks is the statue of a skull. “This is interesting.”
I jog over and take it. “Careful. That’s a Mayan skull. It’s very delicate.”
“A real skull?” His eyebrows fly up.
I put it back on the shelf, carefully. “Yeah. I found it at an old Russian guy’s yard sale. He stole it from ruins in Belize when he was trekking there on an archaeological dig in his twenties. I bought it for twenty bucks.” Brendan’s looking at me like I’m an alien. “I have a dark side.”
He smirks, shaking his head. “I can see that. You’re running short on time…”
“Not as short as that guy.” I point to the head. “I’ll go get ready. You stay here?”
He strolls over and plops down on my overstuffed couch, his legs spread comfortably and one foot on the coffee table. I love how great he looks in my home. I think I’ll keep him.
“Me and the dead Mayan dude will keep each other company.”
Laughing, I head for the bathroom. “You two do that.”
After a speedy shower, I throw on a pair of leggings with a long, loose top and ankle boots, rolling my hair into a messy, damp bun after an insufficiently short blow dry. Running into the living room, I ask, “What time is it?” and bust up laughing. “Oh my God. What are you doing?”
Brendan’s sitting back with one ankle thrown up on his knee, his left arm on the back of the couch, the skull seated on the cushion beside him. “Jaco and I were having a chat about the end of the world.”
“Jaco, huh?” I pick up my purse and pull out my phone to find we have less than five minutes to get there. “And what did Jaco have to say about it not ending like his people said it would?”
“He said, enjoy your life because the other option sucks.” Brendan looks down. “Isn’t that right, Jaco?”
“Jaco has a point.”
Brendan rises with a sexy look in his eyes. He motions to what I’m wearing. “I like this.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head up for a kiss, and he gives me a long one. Forgetting the time, I drop the purse and slip my arms around his neck. Our bodies begin to move, my leg hooking around his hip as he kisses down my neck, lighting me up with a desire for more, my head falling back as my eyes close.