Chapter Twenty-Four
Kizzy awoke the next morning feeling great. She felt strong. New. Ready. She slipped out quietly and walked, naked, to the outdoor shower.
Addison saw her through the kitchen window, knocked on it, and smiled. Kizzy turned around and mooned her before happily skipping into the shower. Ben walked in as Addison spun back around, a ridiculous blushing smile on her face.
“What?” Ben said.
“Nothing…I’m just…happy, I guess. That Terrence is really something else.”
Ben helped himself to a crisp piece of bacon, avoiding further commentary.
“Where’s he at,” he asked, faking indifference and adding, “Still asleep? I kept him up pretty late.”
“You’re not the only one.” Addison hummed to herself with a little grin. “He’s in the guesthouse. Can you tell him breakfast is ready?” She broke off a piece from her latest batch of scones, tasted it, grimaced, and dumped them in the bin.
The door to the guesthouse was cracked open, so Ben let himself in.
“Hey,” Ben called out upon entering.
“Hey,” Terrence responded from the bathroom.
Ben sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, until he noticed a condom wrapper on the floor. He jumped up like the bed was on fire, contemplating whether to flee, when he saw a second one mere inches from the garbage pail. That Terrence was a bad shot was of little consolation. Ben was mad. Mad at himself, mad at Terrence, and mostly mad at Addison. The first person he had truly felt something for since Julia died, the first brunette whose hair he could imagine running his hands through. Could he be that out of touch that he misconstrued the chemistry between them?
Terrence ascended from the loo and, without further ado, Ben confronted him. He pointed to the condom for a visual.
“So, is that what this is all about? Your thirst for another wave is all just BS?”
“No, man. Lighten up. We were just having fun.”
Ben clenched his fists and rolled his shoulders back.
“You know—there are women throwing themselves at me everywhere I go. It’s, like, beyond consensual,” Terrence added, clearly confused by Ben’s nunlike reaction to two consenting adults having relations.
Ben controlled the urge to sock the guy and decided, right there and then, he would hit him where it would hurt more—in his piece in Sports Illustrated. It was irrational, and he knew it, but he didn’t much care.
And then Terrence dropped the real bomb.
“It’s getting old, man,” he complained, adding, “and I’m getting old too,” before flipping himself onto the bed like a teenager would.
“I’m thinking of asking if I can see her again. You think she would want to? I know she’s in a transitional time in life—lots to figure out.”
Ben weighed his options. He could do his best to thwart it right now, but where would that leave him?
All he could manage was, “Go for it, man.”
Terrence’s face lit with promise, and Ben felt a spark of happiness for him before remembering it was at the price of his own.
“You need anything else from me before I go?” Terrence asked cluelessly.
“No. I got all I need,” Ben answered, and reluctantly received Terrence’s bear hug goodbye.