Chapter Nineteen
We all drifted into Nate’s kitchen, circling the table, the clack of plates and the muffled scrape of chairs our background music. Jackson and Rachel were already piling food on their plates, hands quick and greedy, while I just waited, patient, hands folded in my lap.
Nate caught my eye, took my plate over to the food with a quiet, “What would you like?”
“I’m not picky,” I told him, giving him a gentle smile. “Whatever you think is good.”
He must have liked that answer; he didn’t hesitate, just loaded my plate with pad Thai, topped it with a poached egg, then made a neat row of fried calamari and shrimp dumplings beside it. He brought the plate over and set it in front of me, his lips quirked.
“Thank you,” I said. I took a fork instead of the chopsticks—not even going to attempt the show and drop half the food on the table.
We opened a bottle of wine, letting it breathe while we ate. Jackson immediately launched into stories about Nate and himself as kids, laughing around mouthfuls of food. The past felt close in the room, like it could spill out and land on the table between us.
“One time,” Jackson started, his voice already shaking with laughter, “we both got suspended off the school bus because dummy here set a garden snake loose and the bus driver almost crashed when the thing crawled up to the steering wheel. Scared him so bad he pissed himself. I’ve never seen anyone’s face so red!
I thought he was going to strangle Nate. ”
“That was an accident as you well know!” Nate shot back, brandishing his fork.
“I wanted to set it loose in my English teacher’s class.
That old bitty? We all hated her, you included, Jackson.
” He pointed at Jackson with his fork, waving it for emphasis.
“But the snake slipped out of my backpack before we even got to the exit.”
“And I was blamed as an accomplice and suspended too,” Jackson said, pretending to sound wounded.
“You caught the snake!” Nate retorted, grabbing a pea and flicking it at Jackson, who doubled over laughing.
Jackson pushed back from the table, still wiping tears from his eyes and stacking up plates. “Alright, alright,” he said, “I’m ready to check out this game. You’ve built up the suspense, man.”
“I haven’t even tested it yet myself,” Nate replied, standing. “Let’s go.”
Jackson paused. “Coming?” He looked at Rachel.
“We’ll be right there,” Rachel told him, waving them off. “We’re just going to tidy up a little.”
As soon as the guys left, Rachel poured us both a second glass of wine and turned to me, her eyes bright. “So,” she asked, “what do you think?”
I hesitated. “About?”
“Jackson. Don’t you think he’s a stud?”
I tried to hide my smile. “He’s very handsome.”
“And great in bed,” she added, almost sighing.
“Too much, Rach.”
She grinned. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re not curious. Aren’t you dying to find out about Nate? They say nerdy guys are the best—always into all kinds of crazy kinks and stuff.”
I snorted. “How would I know? And Nate’s not even that nerdy.”
She shrugged. “He’s got a nice place. He’s not bad looking. But he’s no Jackson. Or Cam.”
She caught herself. Looked sheepish.
“Sorry,” she muttered, taking a long sip of her wine. “Cam is hot as fuck, but no man is worth what he’s putting you through. If Nate can treat you better—which I think he would, by the way—you should go for it.”
I leaned back, rolling the thought around in my head the way I rolled wine in my mouth. “On some level, you’re right. Cam’s obviously never going to drop this new lifestyle, and I need to figure out if I’m just going to live with it or finally grow a backbone and leave.”
“At least you’ve got someone to run to in the meantime,” Rachel said. “From everything I’ve seen, Nate’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you.”
“Maybe that’s the trouble,” I mused. “Maybe I don’t want to be taken care of. Maybe I need to learn to stand on my own.”
Rachel started gathering up the dishes, and I helped her, stowing the leftovers and stacking plates in the dishwasher.
“I told you I can help you with that,” she said. “You aren’t dependent on Cam, not financially. You always have a place with me.”
“He’d never cut me off,” I admitted. “But that’s not really the point. I’ve started saving up since I got the job. It’s not much, but it’ll get me started. I won’t even need to move in with you.”
Rachel closed the dishwasher and leaned against it, grinning. “Still, door’s always open. Even if you don’t need it.”
“You’re the best,” I told her.
She threw her hair back, all mock arrogance. “I know.”
From the living room came a crash of voices—the guys already shouting at each other over the game.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Boys and their toys.”
We carried our wine into the living room and watched them play.
I curled up in the recliner and Rachel sat with me, pulling out her phone to show me photos from her job.
She was designing interiors now, working for these crazy-rich clients, and some of the things she showed me were unreal.
Giant sculptures, art I could never imagine, and the price tags made my head spin.
The shooting game on the TV rattled the walls, the three of them locked into some battle where the sole objective was to find the others and annihilate. I found it mind-numbing, but they couldn’t get enough.
Rachel and I tuned out most of it, chatting over wine and swapping stories, until something smashed against the far wall, sending a jolt through both of us.
“This is bullshit!” Nate’s shout thundered down the hall. He stomped away, slamming his bathroom door so hard the sound echoed.
Jackson stood up slowly, surveying the wreckage—the remains of a game controller scattered across the carpet, fragments everywhere. He started to pick up the pieces, brushing his fingers across the plastic.
Rachel and I exchanged a look, speechless.
I’d never seen Nate lose it like that. He was always so careful, so in control.
Jackson shrugged an apology. “Sorry, guys. I pushed him a little too far.”
Rachel gaped at him. “What the hell, Jackson? What did you do?”
He grinned, sheepish and unrepentant. “I may have cheated a little. I thought it’d be funny. Guess he didn’t.”
“You bonehead,” Rachel deadpanned.
A minute later, Nate returned, both hands braced on the back of the couch, eyes on me. “Can I talk to you, Livi?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“In private?”
Rachel caught my eye, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, but I just rolled mine. I followed Nate to the back of the apartment, into his room. I’d never been in here—it felt private, like stepping inside someone’s head.
His bed was king-sized, covered in stark black, matching drapes on the windows. A dark wood dresser stood sentinel at the far wall, flanked by matching nightstands. Above the headboard hung a painting, swirling with black, blue, red, all the colors fighting and folding into each other, hypnotic.
“I’m sorry about that,” Nate’s voice broke the spell. “I got a little too into the game.”
“Oh,” I said, blinking, surprised at his apology. “Don’t worry about it. Jackson admitted he was cheating.”
“I didn’t scare you, did I?”
I shook my head. “No. You just startled us, that’s all.”
Nate sighed in relief. “Good. Because all I’ve been able to think about tonight is that picture.”
“The picture?” I echoed, heat rising in my cheeks.
“And the kiss,” he added.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “It’s been on my mind, too.”
He reached up and smoothed a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his touch deliberate. “I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I feel like I should,” I confessed, my laugh shaky. “But I just…don’t.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
There was no answer he needed from me. I knew what I wanted, at least for right now. It was just kissing. Nothing that Cam wasn’t doing himself with other women. Why not take the comfort Nate offered?
Our lips met and we fell back into it easily, like the pause had never happened. I let myself disappear into the feeling, arms winding around his neck, his hands finding the back of my head, pulling me closer, tighter.
The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the hard beat of his heart. Cam didn’t even cross my mind. When Nate’s other hand slipped down to grab my butt and squeeze, I moaned, body responding instantly.
He broke from my lips, trailing kisses down my jaw, the hollow of my neck. His palm skimmed up my shirt, cupping my breast, and I arched into him. We staggered toward the bed, and when my knees hit the edge, I tumbled back, Nate following, heavy on top of me, pinning me down in the best way.
His hand ran down my waist, found the curve of my thigh, guided my legs to wrap around him. His erection pressed against my clit, hot even through the fabric.
“Livi,” he groaned, “you feel so good.”
I dug my fingers into his hair, kissed him harder, tongues tangling, my head spinning.
And then my phone went off, shrill and insistent, reality slicing through the fog.
“Wait.”
“Ignore it,” Nate murmured, lips at my throat.
But the phone didn’t quit. It stopped, then rang again, louder this time.
“Stop, Nate,” I said, pushing on his shoulders. “It might be Cam.”
He flopped to the side, frustrated. “Sorry.”
I propped myself up, picking up the phone. Two missed calls. A new text.
Where are you?
“It’s my husband,” I said, a wave of guilty heat rolling over me. All this time with Nate, and Cam was trying to reach me.
Nate saw the change in me and came over, tipping my chin up. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t you dare feel guilty after what he’s been out doing tonight.”
“It’s so early,” I stammered, glancing at the time. “He’s never home this early. Something must’ve happened.”
Nate’s hand squeezed, steadying me. “Look at me, Livi.”
I met his eyes, dark grey, serious. “Don’t let this ruin what’s happening between us. One night of your husband coming home early doesn’t undo everything else he’s done. Don’t close me out. Nothing we just did was wrong.”