Chapter Twelve #2
Getting up, he went to the bathroom, and smiled wide when he saw a note propped up on the tile vanity counter.
Went to grab coffee and breakfast, it read, with a big D scrawled across the bottom.
He did his business, and decided that if Damon was going to bring him breakfast in bed, he’d better do his part to make that happen.
He settled back into the nest of sheets and leaned back against the headboard, feeling lighter and freer than he could ever remember feeling before.
As far as he was concerned, the other shoe wasn’t going to drop.
As far as he was concerned, after last night, the shoe didn’t even exist.
It was a really fucking amazing feeling.
It was only then that he heard the voice echoing through the townhouse, coming from down the stairs.
And it wasn’t Damon, because Damon didn’t have a voice that feminine.
Xander grabbed the sheets and pulled them up further.
He didn’t know where his briefs had gone last night, and he wasn’t about to get rid of his cotton shield to go find them either. The voice came closer.
“Damon? Are you here?”
Whoever she was, she must have the access code, because he heard her make a confused noise and then start up the staircase.
For a split second, his heart beating wildly, Xander considered hiding. Maybe in the massive walk-in closet? No, it was totally empty, and if she even stuck her head in, she’d see him—and his bare ass—in a second.
“Damnit,” Xander swore under his breath.
Every option he desperately flipped through seemed worse than the last. Which was, of course, to let her come into this room and catch him here, minus Damon and with the lube on the side table and a whole string of condoms on the floor, it wasn’t going to be a state secret what they’d been doing all night.
Stupidly, he flattened his hair, trying to arrange it into something that looked less like they’d been fucking all night, though he knew that ship had already sailed.
He yanked up the sheet practically to his chin, and that was all he had time to do before a young woman poked her head into the master bedroom.
She saw him instantly, and he wasn’t sure who went redder.
“I’m sorry,” she said. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but she sounded at least a fraction as humiliated as he felt. “I didn’t know . . . I thought Damon was here.”
Xander smiled wryly. “He was. He went to get breakfast.”
“Oh.” She hesitated, and he knew that was when she took in the long strip of condoms on the floor. He’d loved bringing them, and pulling them out to Damon’s obvious delight. The whole night had been so perfect, and now it was crashing down around his ears. “Oh.”
He watched her try to regroup. She was pretty, with light brown hair curling around her shoulders, and kind eyes.
“I guess, um, I guess I’ll wait downstairs for Damon.”
Xander said fuck it and scooted out of bed, trailing bedsheet as he went. “Let me get some clothes on.” He paused. “How did you even get in here?”
Burying her head in her hands, she definitely looked as embarrassed as he felt. Maybe even more. “I’m Rachel. Damon’s ex-wife. His father told me he was in town for a few days, and gave me the entry code. It never . . . I never imagined that he would bring someone.”
The woman’s humiliation was beginning to make more and more sense.
This was Damon’s wife. Xander froze, and couldn’t help but wonder if she had even known if he was bisexual.
Xander wanted to believe she had, because Damon didn’t seem like the type to keep that kind of secret from someone he loved, but then Xander kept waiting for Damon to make their relationship public, and that hadn’t happened yet.
“I’m his new head chef,” Xander said flatly. “I’ll see you downstairs.” He definitely wasn’t going to drop his bedsheet in front of her now that he knew who she was.
She turned and fled. Though he’d had hope that she would just leave, the embarrassment overwhelming her, after he found his clothes and ventured downstairs, he found her in the empty kitchen, leaning over the counter.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I should have known Nathan wouldn’t have good intentions.”
“He didn’t know,” Xander said flatly. “Damon didn’t tell him he was bringing me.” His hands reached out and he gripped the edge of the marble tightly. Like maybe he could keep himself from falling apart. The last person he wanted to do that in front of was Damon’s ex-wife.
“So you’re the chef for Damon’s new restaurant?
” she asked, clearly trying to change the subject, and he might have appreciated that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate anything about her.
It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, and he knew absolutely fucking nothing about her, but he hated her.
“I am,” he said shortly.
“And you’re . . .” she hesitated, “you’re involved with Damon.”
“I am,” he repeated. “We’re together.”
That seemed to throw her a little, but she recovered quickly enough that it was obvious she’d known that Damon was interested in both men and women.
“I’m happy he has someone,” she said, surprising the hell out of Xander.
He’d half-expected a jealous tantrum, but instead she looked pleased.
It shouldn’t have really surprised him because she had such kind eyes, but he wasn’t doing his best thinking right now.
She reached out with a hand. “I’m Rachel. It’s really nice to meet you.”
The petty, nasty part of Xander did not want to shake her hand or introduce himself. But if Damon came home and found them in a catfight in his kitchen, it wasn’t exactly going to reflect well.
He shook her hand briefly. “I’m Xander Bridges.”
Rachel gave him an appraising look and Xander fought not to squirm at her careful perusal. He began to wish he’d taken time to put something on other than an old pair of running shorts and a loose tank. “You’re the chef who just left Terroir, aren’t you?”
Damon had barely mentioned his ex, only a few times in passing, and frankly that had been a few times too many for Xander so he’d never asked about her. His confusion must have showed, because she laughed.
“I’m a restaurant consultant, here in San Francisco,” she explained. “You’re now the third person to leave Aquino in the last eight months. Word starts to get around.”
“People leave all the time,” Xander defended.
“Yeah, but not someone with your skill level, and not when he promised you chef de cuisine, and you left anyway. Now it makes sense. You wanted to be in charge of your own restaurant.” She paused. “And I suppose working for Damon seemed like a pretty good gig. He’s a good guy.”
It was petty and stupid jealousy, but Xander didn’t want to listen to his ex-wife talk about how great Damon was. He already knew, thank you very much.
“It does make sense why he’d come to the townhouse,” she continued.
“He wouldn’t come here at all when we were married, and when Nathan called me to say he was staying here, I was a little shocked.
That’s really why I stopped by. I wanted to make sure he was okay and not like .
. . punishing himself somehow by coming back here. ”
Curiosity overcame his reservations about talking to Rachel. “He wouldn’t come here at all?”
“I don’t know what he’s told you,” Rachel said, her voice dropping, “but Damon has a really difficult relationship with his father.”
“He’s told me,” Xander said dryly. “It would be tough to miss if you were paying attention. And I am.”
Rachel smiled. “I really meant it, you know? I am glad he has someone and he’s happy. We were good for a little while, but we were two kids struggling with something we didn’t understand.”
“His drinking?” Xander guessed.
“I wanted to help him so badly,” she said with a heavy sigh, “but I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
He needed an adult, a support system, and I was so young, I couldn’t be what he needed.
I hoped for so long that it wouldn’t mean that he didn’t date again.
” She smiled wryly. “It was selfish, but I didn’t want that on my conscience. ”
“I do think he worries about it sometimes,” Xander admitted. “Not because of you. But because he’s afraid he’s not worth the risk.”
“And you obviously know that’s bullshit.”
“Obviously,” Xander retorted.
“Do you mind if I wait for him?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him in so long, and it would be good, to see him happy.
” Her smile had a bittersweet edge, and Xander realized that their marriage hadn’t been a particularly happy one.
Why was he jealous of it? It hit him like a lightning bolt that his jealousy wasn’t about Rachel or Damon—it was his own past rearing its ugly head.
He wanted so badly for Damon to admit to the people around them that they were together.
If he did that, maybe Xander could finally stop worrying that it wouldn’t ever happen.
“Of course not.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s only awkward if we make it awkward, right?”
She laughed. “I knew he was bisexual, just in case you weren’t sure.”
“I figured you must have. You were more surprised that there was someone in his bed than the fact that it was a man. Do you think . . .” Xander hesitated. “Would you imagine he’d have trouble telling anyone?”
She shook her head emphatically. “He made zero secret of it when we were together. We’d check out hot guys together, honestly. I really wouldn’t worry about it.”
But her words only made him actually worry more.
The niggling fear in the back of his head expanded with her confession.
If he had no issue with it, and had been unapologetic about it years ago, why would he continue to hold back?
Was he ashamed of Xander? Was the problem not that Xander was a man, but that Xander was Xander?
That didn’t seem possible after last night but with the cold light of day and Rachel’s admission, it was hard to trust any other explanation. But before he could question Rachel further, he heard the front door open and then close.
Xander stepped into the foyer, the soaring ceiling above them. Damon was carrying a paper bag and a coffee carrier with a few cups in it.
“You’re up,” Damon said, sounding disappointed. “I was hoping to surprise you.”
Xander took a few steps closer, until Damon could hear him with a low murmur. “Rachel is here. In the kitchen.”
Damon couldn’t look more surprised than if he’d told him Bastian Aquino had just asked them for a threesome. “What?”
Xander just shrugged. “I guess your dad told her you were here.”
“Shit,” Damon hissed. “Was it as bad as I think it was?”
“No. I mean, yes, but we’re both adults, and she doesn’t seem too jealous.”
“She wouldn’t be,” Damon admitted wryly. “She remarried a year and a half ago.”
Xander hadn’t bothered checking out her ring finger, but it made sense, considering everything Rachel had said this morning. She hadn’t come here to get Damon back, or to even see if he was interested. She’d come here to do exactly what she said; to make sure he was okay.
“Do you want me to tell her to leave?” Xander asked. “You don’t have to talk to her.”
“Nonsense,” Damon said firmly. “We’re friends, sort of.”
It shouldn’t bother him for Damon to walk into the kitchen without a second thought, leaving Xander behind, but it sort of did.
He wanted answers to all the questions swirling through his head, and he wanted to sit Damon down and force him to explain.
But the truth was, Xander just wasn’t brave enough to hear the truth—if it was what he suspected.
Still, he put a brave face on, and followed Damon into the kitchen. He shouldn’t have flinched when he saw Damon hugging her, but he couldn’t quite help it.
It wasn’t jealousy exactly; it was something more like envy that he’d had zero issue standing up in front of all his friends and family and marrying Rachel.
They weren’t ready for that by a mile, not even close, but Xander suddenly wasn’t sure that if they made it that far in their relationship that Damon would do the same with him.
And that hurt.
“It’s so good to see you,” Damon said. “You look good.”
“So do you,” she retorted, giving him a little smack to the shoulder. “Happy.”
Damon flushed, like he’d been caught in some sort of secret. “I am.”
“And you’re starting a restaurant. You should have called me.”
“I wanted to do it on my own,” Damon said dryly. “And I have someone with plenty of experience.” He glanced back, right at Xander, and smiled broadly. “No offense to your skills, Rach, but it’d be overkill.”
“Understood. But I’d better get an invite to opening night,” she insisted.
Damon glanced back again, like he was making sure it was okay with Xander. And Xander wasn’t stupid; he knew his envy or jealousy or whatever the fuck it was, wasn’t attractive.
He nodded, adding, “Of course.”
Her face lit up. “Oh, that’s so great. I can’t wait.”
“We’re actually here to scope out equipment and furniture,” Damon said, glancing down at his watch. “And we’d actually better be going. We have appointments starting in an hour.”
Xander took that as his cue to leave. He reached out, took Rachel’s hand, and he could say, almost without a lie, “It was really good to meet you.”
She beamed, like she totally agreed, and it made his statement even less a lie. “Ditto.”
Xander was in the shower when Damon came in to bathroom, leaning a hip against the vanity counter. “Thank you for not freaking out when she showed up,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Xander said. It wasn’t quite fine, but he didn’t know how to tell Damon the things that were bothering him without word vomiting it all up.
“I love that you’re so chill,” Damon said earnestly.
Personally, Xander didn’t think he was chill at all, but he was willing to agree with Damon. “It’s no problem. She’s nice.”
“We were young and stupid when we got married,” Damon said, which was basically a version of what Rachel had told him earlier. “I think she was relieved when we got a divorce. She met someone more her style and married him not long after.”
“It sounds like you’re both happier now,” Xander offered cautiously.
“Definitely.” Damon’s smile made it clear that was true. If only his smile could banish all Xander’s new worries.
“We have a couple of restaurant supply stores to hit,” Damon said, “and then dinner tonight at Michael Mina. Is that okay?”
“It sounds great,” Xander said, flipping the water off, and he realized that despite this whole debacle, he meant it.