Chapter 11
I walked around downtown Bayport with Callie, going from shop to shop.
Two weeks into December might seem like procrastinating to some for Christmas shopping, but I didn’t have many people to buy for.
My parents, Brody, Avery, Wyatt, Leah, Callie, and Gabe were the most important, and they were all relatively easy.
For my parents, my brothers and I decided to go a more lighthearted and fun route this year, chipping in to recreate ridiculous nineties-style family portraits of the three of us. We had an appointment scheduled for next week with a previous client of mine whose photography studio I helped design.
Wyatt, Brody, and I started buying gag gifts for each other when I started college, so that was simple enough for me to find something stupid for them.
And Avery and Leah were both easy to shop for—a bottle of their favorite perfume and wine and some sort of small sentimental gift for each for being my honorary sisters and putting up with my idiot brothers.
I already purchased matching permanent bracelets for Callie at a local jewelry shop in Bayport. I had the appointment set for us to get them put on two days after Christmas.
As for Gabe, I didn’t have any ideas yet.
He was both difficult and easy to shop for.
Difficult in the sense that he never dropped hints about anything he wanted, but easy in the sense that no matter what I got him, he’d be more than grateful.
I could buy the guy a sheet of stamps, and he’d act like it was the greatest gift he’d ever received.
So, for him, it was just a matter of finding something meaningful that he’d both enjoy and could use.
Other than that, I’d already gotten Grace something small, and I made cards and ordered small generic gifts to send to my clients and certain contractors I wanted to keep on my good side. So, technically speaking, I was ahead.
“You gonna get Lucas something?” I asked Callie as we walked out of the perfume shop.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I just don’t know what.”
“He seems like he’s fairly easy to shop for.”
“Not at all. What do you get the man who has everything, and if he doesn’t have it, he could buy ten of them on his own?”
“Oh, poor him. Being a billionaire is so hard,” I teased.
Callie chuckled. “Shut up.”
We continued down the cobblestone streets; downtown Bayport was decorated to look like a winter wonderland, minus the snow. We rarely had snow; the last time was four years ago. I was okay with that, though. I wasn’t big on it—it was too cold for my liking.
“So…how are things going with Lucas anyway?”
“Good.”
The smile she was suddenly wearing told me things were more than just “good.”
“Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill,” she said. “We’re just…friends. Again.”
I chuckled. “You two will never be ‘just friends’. There’s too much history. Too many unspoken words. Too much lost time to make up for.”
“You’re in an awfully romantic mood. Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Shut up,” I playfully scoffed.
She chuckled. “I’m just saying, you’re not usually so…sentimental.”
“Well, clearly, I’m living vicariously through you these days, and your squishy romantic heart is rubbing off on me. It’s gross.”
Callie laughed again. “Living vicariously through me doing what exactly? Nothing romantic is happening in my life, and my sex life is nonexistent.”
“The lack of romance is only a matter of time. You know it. I know it. And the lack of sex is your own damn fault. You could message Lucas right now and ask him to fuck you, and he’d be at your house in ten minutes flat with zero questions asked. You can’t convince me otherwise.”
The amount of times I’d seen Lucas undress Callie with his eyes, even before they reconciled, was astounding. If I had a man look at me the way he looked at her, I’d probably be a goner.
“Wait, so you still haven’t gotten laid?” Callie asked through a quiet laugh.
“I did…but then I fell right back into my slump, and that’s exactly where I’ve been for the last two months.”
“Well, call up the guy who got you out of it before. Maybe he’ll help you out again.”
I practically choked on the sip of the latte I’d just taken. “No,” I rasped. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? Was he no good?”
She had no idea she was asking me about Wesley. And I was not about to open that can of worms. Maybe someday. Today was not that day. “I mean, it was…they were quickies.”
“They?” She grinned. “So it happened more than once?”
“Yeah, just twice. Both quickies. Nothing to rave about. They got the job done and gave me a temporary reprieve from my vibrator.”
“Damn…” Callie giggled. “Nothing to rave about? Ouch.”
I smirked. “The guy was a two-pump chump.”
I sure as hell wasn’t about to compliment Wesley, fake or not.
Knowing that what I was saying would probably give him a stroke made me feel better; he was so arrogant that he’d lose his ever-loving mind if he heard his bedroom stamina was being doubted.
He wasn’t exactly a two-pumper, but, as I said, they were both quickies, so I couldn’t really say what he was like to his full ability. And I had no intention of finding out.
I meant what I said when I told him after the last time that it would never happen again.
We didn’t talk about it, and both acted like it had never happened at all, which I was thankful for.
I still expected him to throw it back in my face during one of our Tuesday and Saturday night verbal sparring matches, but he hadn’t.
And I was fine with that. I didn’t need to be reminded of how goddamn desperate I’d been—which was clearly very desperate if I let it happen not once but twice—because I thought about it enough on my own.
And I was determined to never be that desperate again.