Chapter Nineteen
Theo
If I hadn’t already been remembering all the reasons I hated small town life, finding a place to buy condoms without drawing attention to myself would have done it. I even considered convincing Ollie to get them for me, but that would’ve led to a conversation I wasn’t ready to have.
Not that Esther was a secret. She was a treasure, but I wasn’t ready to share that, not even with my best friend.
In the end, I drove for forty-five minutes before deciding a drugstore at the outskirts of Rochester would be anonymous enough.
I made it in and out of the store without running into anyone I knew, though the kid behind the counter smirked when he scanned three value-sized boxes of condoms and put them in a paper bag for me.
My goal was to not have to come back anytime soon.
Without flinching, I stared back at the young cashier, daring him to comment, but he simply handed me the bag and my receipt with a quiet, “Have fun.”
Oh, I would.
I grabbed lunch, stopped at the hardware store for a few things since I had nothing better to do just yet, and returned home to putter for a few hours before dinner.
I left the condoms on the kitchen table, caught up on some work emails and payroll, and—in true creeper style—glanced repeatedly out the kitchen window toward the guest house.
Each time I picked up my phone to text Esther, I forced myself to set it back down.
The last thing she needed was me interrupting her while she was working.
After fixing a squeaky plank on the basement stairs and watching a documentary about whale decomposition that made me cringe so hard I worried my face might get stuck that way, I jumped when a text from Esther appeared.
I read through her food choices and instructions, recognizing it as the same dish she’d ordered when we were at The Mermaid with Sofia and Oliver, asked what time she’d be done with her baking, then ran upstairs to shower and change into something less grungy.
When I called to place our order, the server who answered the phone passed me straight to the chef herself.
Maybe I was projecting, but the woman sounded equal parts competent on the food allergy front and ecstatic about Esther being part of a dinner for two.
By the time I picked up our dinners—reconfirming that all of the allergy protocols had been followed, because I didn’t want to risk fucking it up and harming Esther—I was filled with the kind of nervous energy I associated with first dates.
It was ridiculous, given that I’d spent most of the night inside her and the rest wrapped around her, but my pulse was hammering by the time I knocked on the guest house door.
She opened it quickly, still wearing a purple apron with The Nutless Wonder emblazoned across the front. Her smile was a little shy but so wide it immediately soothed my nerves.
“Hi,” she said softly, stepping back to let me in.
“Hi,” I repeated as I paused to kiss her lightly on the lips. Traces of telltale sweetness lingered, and I winked at her before admonishing, “Someone’s been sampling the goods.”
Eyes wide with feigned innocence, she blinked up at me. “I’m responsible for quality control. My sidekick was away on a very important mission.”
I laughed and set the takeout bag on the table. “Was your day productive?”
“Very,” she replied, untying the apron to hang it on a hook in the kitchen. “And was your mission successful?”
I snorted. “I drove almost to Rochester, for fuck’s sake. Next time I’ll just order them online. I’m pretty sure the kid at the cash register thought I was about to host an orgy.”
Esther smirked at me. “Just how many did you buy?”
“Three of the biggest boxes I could find. You are insatiable, after all.”
Amusement lit her features, but she only hummed in response to the accusation. I took that to mean she agreed my purchase was worth the trip. While she pulled plates from the cupboard, I unpacked our food.
It wasn’t until we were seated at the table that she realized I had ordered the same pasta dish she’d gotten, since I didn’t want to inadvertently consume something that might trigger a reaction. When I explained my reasoning, she blinked back a sudden sheen of tears.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said quickly, reaching for her hand across the table. “That’s nothing to cry about, is it?”
She shook her head and took a moment to compose herself before saying, “No, it’s just really sweet of you.”
When she cleared her throat and turned the conversation to the upcoming event that weekend, I didn’t protest. A low simmer of anger toward her selfish asshole of a husband had taken up residence in my gut, but I had no desire to bring forth another wave of tears.
I tamped down those feelings and focused instead on the animated way she talked about the food truck, even though she confessed to being nervous in crowds.
Just as we were clearing the table, her phone chirped with a notification. Esther blinked in surprise before her eyebrows drew down.
“That’s my business email,” she explained, reaching for the phone. “Hopefully it’s not some issue for this weekend.”
I dried my hands on a towel while she checked it, but when her frown deepened, I joined her at the counter. She turned the phone toward me and I saw that it was a photo—a cupcake lying on pavement, smashed by the sledgehammer still embedded in the rubble of frosting and crumbs.
“What the hell?” I muttered, zooming in on the image. Around the cupcake were shards of what looked like peanut shells. “Is this some kind of joke?”
One glance at Esther’s face convinced me that she didn’t think so. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes a little too wide, her mouth tight. I pulled her into my arms without a second thought.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I murmured into her hair.
She nodded against my chest, but her body trembled ever so slightly under my hands. For another minute, I soothed her, keeping up a steady stream of reassurances as I rubbed my hands up and down her spine. When I drew back, I tipped her chin up so that she met my eyes.
“Has this happened before?”
With an unsteady breath, she shook her head. “No, nothing like this. I told you I got a few weird calls in the last couple days, though, always from private numbers. At first it was just hang-ups, so I figured it was just someone dialing the wrong number.”
“At first?”
“Today I answered one and it was like…heavy breathing. Like obviously someone was on the line, but they didn’t hang up right away. Later on, I had a voicemail that was the same.”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through me, though whether it was brought on by the quaver in her voice or the fury I felt over someone screwing with her, I couldn’t quite say.
My arms tightened around her as I tried to settle myself down and think logically.
She hadn’t given me many details about her husband, but I got the impression flying off the handle would scare the shit out of her.
No matter what, I was determined never to give her reason to fear me.
“Do you still have the voicemail?” I asked, stroking one hand along her back.
“Yes.”
“Good. Don’t delete the photo. We might be able to trace them. It’s probably just someone messing around,” I said as calmly as I could manage.
“Okay,” she mumbled.
I pressed my lips to her forehead, more a promise than a kiss. “And let me know if anything else like that happens, okay?”
Esther nodded and took half a step back, her shoulders squaring as her resolve strengthened. “I will. I’m sure you’re right. Just a stupid prank.”
“Why don’t we sit and you can give me the rundown on how this weekend will go?” I suggested.
She let me guide her to the living room and tuck her onto my lap in one corner of the loveseat. As she described the tree lighting event, I teased her about her organizational skills—the timeline she relayed from memory was impressively exact, right down to the minute.
“I see why my mother loves you,” I told her, kissing her temple.
“Because I’m practically perfect in every way?”
“I was thinking more like she was dazzled by your color-coded spreadsheets, but yes, that too.”
“Ah, yes. My spreadsheets are one of my best traits,” she mused.
I laughed, but when her fingers started trailing over my chest, leaving a tantalizing path of heat in their wake, I leaned close to her ear and said, “I can think of a few others I’d rank higher.”
“Oh? I’d like to hear all about them, but I believe you mentioned something about orgies?”
Our previous discussions about Thanksgiving had generally revolved around avoiding having to sit through dinner with any of our friends, but at some ungodly hour of the night—or maybe in the early morning—after we both awoke in a warm, sleepy haze and Esther rode me to a dreamlike orgasm before collapsing onto my chest, we decided we’d celebrate our own way.
“What’s your favorite Thanksgiving dish?” I asked, my voice low even though we were at no risk of disturbing anyone from her bed.
She nestled closer, her lips tickling my skin when she replied, “Sweet potatoes.”
“With marshmallows?”
“No, definitely not. I make them with brown sugar and pineapple. What about you?”
“Stuffing, definitely. And rolls.”
“A carb man,” she mused. “I dig it.”
“Turkey?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t eat a lot of meat. The texture weirds me out.”
“Right. Sidesgiving, then.”
While we debated the merits of pumpkin versus apple pie, Esther drew swirling designs across my chest and I glided my fingertips up and down her spine. I thought about how long she’d been alone, how readily she reacted to the faintest touch, how deeply she’d buried this part of her.
“You’re very quiet,” she whispered.
“I know you like keeping to yourself, but you must have been lonely.”
For a moment, she stayed silent, and I was afraid I’d crossed a line. Then she pressed her lips to my jaw and nodded in the darkness.
“I didn’t think so until I met you.”
My heart tripped on those words and my arm tightened involuntarily around her. “I don’t like the thought of you being sad.”
“Not sad,” she corrected, “just…I don’t know. Missing companionship, at times. I like my life, Theo. I’m happy with the choices I’ve made, proud of what I’ve done. Just very, very occasionally, I consider what it might be like to have someone to share it with. Then I come to my senses.”
The last bit was light, teasing, but I felt the truth underneath it.
“I’m not sad,” she reiterated, her fingers digging gently into my chest.
“I believe you.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ll be okay when you go home, Theo.”
“I know you will. But I want you to get your fill while I’m here, okay? Soak up as much as you need from me. Will you do that?”
She huffed a laugh against my skin. “Use you to fill my quota of physical affection?”
“Yes.”
Before answering, she snuggled closer into me and propped herself up to look down at my face. I’d never tire of seeing those luminous eyes shining through the darkness, of their warmth and curiosity glowing in her beautiful face.
“Do you feel like I’m using you?” she asked quietly. “In a bad way?”
I squeezed her hip with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other. “Not in the least.”
She studied my features for a long time, though I doubted she could see very much, then she dropped her head to kiss my lips—softly, sweetly—before snuggling back down. I tugged the covers up over her bare shoulders and tucked them around us both.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Better than good,” I murmured into her hair. “Now get some sleep.”