CHAPTER 19
Remy
I picture Jamie trying to peel a homemade face mask off his face, listening to him curse as it plucks out stubble and eyebrow hairs.
I guess he won’t be leaving glue lying around his house after this.
How cute would Chris look with green paste smeared all over his face and cucumber slices on his eyes, though?
Honestly, we should do a facial night sometime.
I’ll try anything that helps him relax better and keep his mind off his pain.
“Are you even listening to me?” Jamie’s impatient tone comes over the line.
Crawling into bed alone, I turn out my bedside lamp. It’s Monday. That means an entire week of falling asleep alone, I gather, since Chris and I just did the sleepover thing on the weekend again. I don’t want to look too clingy, being that he only mentioned ‘boyfriend’ the other day.
“Hello?” Jamie calls.
Shit. What was he saying? I don’t think I can listen to him grumbling about his nephews’ latest shenanigans for much longer. I can think of one thing that might distract him long enough to put him out of his misery.
“Chris and I are dating,” I throw out casually.
“Oh my God. You did have sex with him. I knew it!”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t.”
“I smell lies.”
“You smell glue, and it’s gone to your head.”
He snorts and makes another wincing sound. “Probably. Well, that’s…weird, and don’t even get me started on dating, but at least I’m not the only one not getting any.”
Before he can go any more ‘Jamie’ on me, I think another change in subject is in order. “Why don’t you come visit for Christmas, unless you have a mani-pedi day planned with your nephews?”
“Ha-fucking-ha.”
Snickering, I nestle deeper under my covers.
“My parents are going to a ski resort, but I’ve grown so acclimated to snowless winters, I think I’m going to pass on joining them.
You could come hang with me and,”—plucking at my blanket, a smile creeps over my face even as it feels strange to imagine—“we could have dinner here with Chris one night while you’re in town. ”
“Well, as much as I’d love to be the third wheel to you and the mountain with a penis, I can’t. I have a girlfriend, and she wants me all to herself for the holidays.”
“What?” I laugh because there has to be some dry Jamie joke in there somewhere. I’d sooner believe he fell in love with cats than that he was suddenly bisexual.
“Yup. Your bachelor bestie is officially taken. Janessa is now the proud, happy owner of all this sex appeal.”
And there’s the joke. I snort, wondering why he wasted thirty seconds of my life on that BS story. But hey, at least he’s not bitching about Chris.
“Uh, I’ve met Janessa. She can absolutely live without you, and so can all the heterosexual men she dates.”
He proceeds to tell me about how he’s going to pretend to be her boyfriend for her family’s Christmas up in Montana. Ironically, he sounds excited about the prospect because it will mean he won’t have to watch his house get destroyed by his nephews while they’re on their holiday break from school.
“Let me get this straight…”
“Exactly,” he quips.
“You can have a fake girlfriend that you don’t have sex with, but I can’t have a real boyfriend I don’t have sex with?”
“I didn’t say can’t. You are a free agent to tangle whatever intricate web you want to weave. I’m not saying a word this time. I’m prepping for vacation mode to recharge and leaving all bad juju behind me. Cowboy country and peace of mind, here I come.”
Wow, that’s a first. “Well, good luck with that.”
He knows it gets really cold there, right? A hundred bucks says Janessa finds him frozen like a popsicle on day one.
“Thank you for the enthusiasm. Good luck to you, too.”
I don’t know why I’m frowning. Given that he knows the entire history of my love life, he probably isn’t taking me seriously or assumes we’re doomed to fail.
“I’m in love with him, Jay,” I blurt even as a rush of anxiety and joy closes up my windpipe. It feels good to say out loud. “Really in love with him. Like, I mean, I finally feel like I know what love is. It’s… I can’t even explain it.”
Silence follows. I don’t even hear signs of movement or the hiss of pain on his end, as though he’s stopped messing with his glue mask.
“Ugh…I’m going to have to be nice to him now, aren’t I?”
That sounds so much like acceptance from my biggest protector and anti-Chris advocate that I beam uncontrollably. “No,” I offer gently, “He doesn’t believe in miracles.”
“Hallelujah.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep. Call or text me before you cowboy up, okay?”
“Yeehaw, Romeo.”
Staring at my phone when the screen goes dark, I let my declaration swaddle me, basking in the truth of it.
My vigilance taunts me with quiet questions, though.
Is it too soon? Is it too late, considering the years that have passed?
They all seem laughable, and I discard them as quickly as they pop up.
I’m in love, plain and simple. It’s apparently the exact right time to be because I have no concerns.
Setting my phone on my nightstand, I stare at it, knowing that’s not entirely true.
The concern I have is for Chris. I spent an hour researching erectile dysfunction before Jamie called, cursing his face mask off.
My concern isn’t that Chris has it. What worries me is that he might think it bothers me.
I’m not complaining about the number of blowjobs he’s given me in the past week and a half, but I think I’d prefer to get him over his fear of letting me anywhere near his dick.
I don’t care what state it’s in. I mean, sometimes, you’d like to graze your fingers lovingly over your man’s upper thigh, but so far, it’s been a caution zone for him.
He, however, seems determined to give me as many orgasms as he can.
He went from being a slightly selfish lover when we were in college to being an overzealous man on a mission.
From what I read, the all-knowing internet said to focus on non-sexual intimacy to make your partner feel wanted.
I can totally get on board with that and think it’s what I’ve been doing.
I don’t need sex to feel desired and appreciated.
I can see it each time he looks at me. Holding hands, hugging, and kissing do it for me now more than they ever have in my life.
I just wish Chris would realize I don’t need my eyes to roll back in my head multiple times a week to enjoy his company.
Ugh. Why does it always come back to sex with me and Chris? Rolling over, I pull my blanket tighter around me and close my eyes. Maybe it’s because this time everything matters.