Chapter 20 Knock Knock . . . Who’s There? #2
“Fuck, I’m sorry. That was harsh.” I walk over to her and stand awkwardly, unsure what to say or do to get myself out of this.
Even Milkshake feels the tension as she stops purring and stares up at me like You put your foot in your mouth there, you idiot. “I don’t know shit about you and Randal. I shouldn’t pass judgment. I just really don’t like that guy, and my mouth does the
talking before my brain does the thinking. I don’t know anything about your marriage to him.”
She offers me a weak shrug. “On the surface, people would probably call our split the classic seven year itch.”
“Seven year itch?” I frown, unfamiliar with the term.
“They say seven years is the point in a marriage where the steam starts to fizzle, and they can’t hold their mask up anymore.
The real them is revealed.” She sighs before adding, “Usually someone in the relationship cheats.”
“He cheated?” My teeth crack as my hand tightens around my cat.
“No, that would have been too easy. Instead, Randal said our marriage failed because I lost the confidence I had with my smaller
body, which in turn, ruined our sex life. He literally said I let myself go.”
I drop my head to my chest as dread washes over me. It’s moments like this that I really hate being a man. “What a fucker.”
“He usually only said it when he was drunk. But they always say the truth comes out when you’re drunk.”
“It’s not true... You’re just as beautiful now as the day I met you.”
“In my right mind, I can believe that,” she says, her eyes looking up at me with an introspective glint to them. “I see the
girls in a size ten–twelve body on Instagram and think they are so hot. I see myself in them and feel good in a lot of the
clothes I wear. But when the man you choose to share your life with gets drunk and starts making digs at your body, it really
fucks with a girl’s self-esteem.”
My chest contracts at the stricken look in her face. “It sounds like he’s an alcoholic and an asshole, which is a him problem,
not a you problem.”
“He would quit drinking sometimes and things would get better, but as soon as he’d let himself partake again, the same stuff
would come out of his mouth. Somewhere along the line, he developed all this pent-up resentment toward me that he could never
communicate in a healthy way. It’s no wonder he thought I was boring in bed. Never wanting to have sex with your partner is pretty boring.”
“Sex is about give-and-take,” I state confidently, desperate to shift Dakota back to the positive, bubbly girl she was when
she knocked on my door ten minutes ago. “Him asking for something you weren’t comfortable enough to give means he wasn’t giving
you what you needed to feel safe. That’s not boring, that’s just expected.”
Her lips part as she stares up at me, her eyes swimming with a million different emotions I can’t all place. “Have you gone
to therapy or something?” she asks, staring intently at me.
“No... but I do read a book on occasion,” I admit, leaving out the bit about them being audiobooks. Audiobooks count as
reading, right? They sure make the long days on the job sight a lot less monotonous. Thrillers are usually my book of choice,
but I listen to some self-help ones when I’m feeling down.
I have my father to thank for that life hack. He always said why pay a therapist when you can rent an audiobook from a library for free? I’m not sure that was the most emotionally intelligent advice he ever gave, but it’s not bad for a guy like me who would
never take the time to go see a doctor.
“I wish Randal had picked up a book here and there because toward the end, he thought a baby would fix all our problems, and
I know there’s no literature that would make that claim.”
I wince and attempt to brace myself for what she says next.
“I told him we needed to fix our relationship before we added another human to it, but he kept bringing it up. Said I was
unhappy because I was stagnant. Working the same job, in the same house, with the same guy. He said we needed a change. But
the thing is... I love my store. I started it straight out of college, and I still get an endorphin boost every time I step foot inside. Why would I want that to change? I’m proud of what I built.”
“You should be proud.” I feel my temper rise over the thought of Randal, a bartender, ever trying to tell Dakota anything
about her business. That’d be like me telling her how to curl her damn hair.
She inhales a shaky breath and looks down at the ground when she adds, “Then there was the condom mishap.” My eyes burn into
her as she continues to look down at the ground. “He took off the condom in the middle of sex once and came inside of me without
asking.”
“Fucking hell.” My hands forming tight fists at my sides. “Are you serious?”
She crosses her arms and turns away from me with a nod. “I’ve never reacted well to birth control, so condoms were our only
form of protection all the years we were married. It was dark, and he said he was just adjusting it, but he wasn’t. He took
it off on purpose, and I didn’t notice until it was too late. He even admitted it. Said he was letting destiny decide for
us.”
“Jesus fuck,” I spit, wishing Randal was here right now so I could rip his head off.
“I felt violated, like my decision to have a family with him was taken from me. It was awful. That entire month was hell waiting to see if I was pregnant or not. When my period finally showed up, I don’t think I’d ever felt more relieved in my entire life.
I literally cried tears of happiness in the bathroom at my shop.
So much so, one of my employees knocked on the door to make sure I was okay. ”
I move closer to Dakota. She looks raw and bare in this moment surrounded by the heavy pine and quiet hush of nature. Different
from any other time I’ve seen her. I swear, the mountain has this weird ability to lower your guard. The solace of it gives
you the confidence to really lay yourself out bare.
I place a hand on her back to offer her some comfort. I grew up with only brothers, so I’m not great at the soothing thing...
but watching my mom grieve my dad has taught me that sometimes physical touch is all someone needs.
“I’m sorry he did that to you,” I offer, and she looks back at me, forcing a big toothy smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“It was the kick in the ass I needed to make a change. The same day I found out I wasn’t pregnant, I boxed up a bunch of his
shit and set it out on my front lawn. I even peed on a stick, those digital ones that say Pregnant or Not Pregnant and put
the negative test result on top of his box. I said I was filing for a divorce and would send him the name of my attorney as
soon as I hired one.”
The corner of my mouth lifts into a proud smirk. “Very savage and very you.”
She takes a moment to collect herself, fluffing out her hair and gripping her coat around her abdomen. “So that’s my divorce
sob story. Not even a very good one.”
“No, it’s good,” I reply, unable to take my eyes off her. She looks like a fucking goddess in this lighting after just opening
herself up like that, revealing her darkest truths and holding her chin up high despite everything.
“How is it good? Were you even listening?”
“I heard every word,” I reply firmly. “And it’s good because you got the fuck out of there. You cut your losses, and that takes guts.”
“I wasted so much time with him, though.” Her chin trembles, and her eyes are glassy as she sniffs. “I’m thirty-three and
starting over.”
I have to hold back a laugh. “Yeah, you better call the nursing homes and save a room.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“What I do know is that you have a lot of life still to live and that spark you had the day I met you is still burning strong.
Maybe even stronger now that you’ve dumped the deadweight.”
An errant tear slides down her cheek, so I reach out to wipe it off with the back of my finger. Her breath stutters with the
contact, but she doesn’t pull away. She shoots me a wobbly smile that hits me right in my gut. Dakota might be the strongest
woman I know—and that’s saying something, because my mom and Trista both rank pretty high up there on my list of badass women.
I step closer to her and grab her by the arms, dipping my head so we’re eye level and she can really focus on what I’m about
to say. Milkshake’s extended feet press against her chest and Dakota pets her behind the ear before looking up at me.
“Just please promise me you’re doing this sex club thing for you and not for him.”
“I am,” she replies a bit too quickly, her head jerking away from me.
“Cuz that fucker doesn’t deserve any more space in your head.”
“I know.” She nods solemnly before peering up at me, her brows knitting together as she searches my face for something. “Do
you have history with Randal that I don’t know about? Because every time his name is brought up... your nostrils seem to
permanently flare.”
I release my grip on her and step back to resume my hold on my cat. “I don’t have history with Randal. I just hate to see
you doing anything for a guy like him.”
“See? A guy like him.” She points at me. “That makes me think you have a beef with him.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your ex-husband, Dakota,” I snap a bit too viscerally.
“Fine,” she snaps back.
“Let’s just stop talking about him.”
“Great idea.”
Silence descends over both of us as we turn and resume our cat walk in a brooding mood that’s much more familiar than the
gushing heart-to-heart stuff we were exchanging a moment ago.
We ventured way off topic because the reason she’s here is that she wants me to take her to a sex club.
I hate the idea. I hate everything about it. But I hate the thought of her going back there alone even more. She’s right:
they’re not really designed well for single women. But does she really know what she’s asking?
“Going back to your proposition.” I take a long breath, mustering my strength for the next question. “What if I take you to
Lexon and we meet a couple who wants to swing with us, because people are going to assume we’re together?”
“That sounds great,” she exclaims, her sour mood quickly replaced with excitement. “We’ve already seen each other naked so
it’s not really that big a deal, right?”
“Riiight,” I murmur, my eyes moving to the ground. My mind kicks into overdrive as I picture Dakota naked and fucking some
guy right beside me. It’ll be some other man touching her flesh, some other man making her moan. Not me.
The lump in my throat is damn near painful as I feel my palms grow slick with sweat, but I quickly wipe them off on my jeans
because this isn’t a big deal. This is just sex. I’ll be fucking someone too, not just watching. I can handle this. Casual
fucking is my way of life.
“I was thinking we could go Friday night after work if you’re up for it,” she chirps, ripping me out of my mind fuck.
“This Friday?” I snap, my eyes wide. “So soon?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”
Why not, Calder? Why the fuck not? Get your goddamn balls back and stop being such a pansy-ass-feelings fucker.
“I’ll call Lexon and make sure I can get your membership reinstated. I’ll explain it was just a misunderstanding and hopefully
they’ll be cool with it. If they are, are you available to come with me?”
She states this all like she’s setting up a damn business meeting, and I wonder how the hell we ended up here. This isn’t
at all what I expected. Honestly, I was hoping to just walk my cat, work on some shelves, and attempt to forget how good Dakota’s
lips felt on mine. How lush her breasts felt in my hands. How goddamn life-changing it was seeing her naked on top of me.
That was the plan.
But this bossy woman always has a way of fucking up my plans.