Chapter Nine
Eric
N ot having a job is boring as shit.
Donovan is back at work today, and twelve hours is a long fucking day. It would be a whole lot easier to deal with if I had a job, could go to the gym, or had something else to do, but that asshole Cliff fucked me over, and there’s no point in trying to get work while I’m on crutches.
I did get up with Donovan for work, though. If he’s going to be my Insurance Daddy, the least he should get out of it is some meals, so I set my alarm and made breakfast and a lunch to take with him. His job is important, and he should have good food to fuel his body while he’s there.
But now it’s nine o’clock and I already don’t know what to do with myself.
What does a short-term kept man do with his time?
Because while I really don’t want to be that, and I told Donovan I wasn’t, I can’t help thinking of myself that way.
At least I was smart enough to save some money, so I can help Donovan with bills until I get another job.
I grab my laptop, which is thankfully on the coffee table, sit down on the L-shaped couch, and pull up the unemployment website. I don’t know if I’ll qualify, but it’s better than nothing, and at least it will give me something to do.
For about an hour, because that’s all it takes me to finish, and now I’m bored again.
I wonder how Donovan is doing today. He’s meeting with human resources to get his new husband—a.k.a. me—added to his policy.
That thought makes me nervous. I can’t help worrying he’ll regret it. That he’ll regret me. What would I ever do if I lost him?
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say into the empty house.
We should get a dog. Then I wouldn’t be bored.
But then, Donovan might not want a dog with me, considering we’re not staying married.
Still, best friends—especially ones who are roommates—can get dogs together, right?
If I ever move out, our pup can stay with Donovan since he’s in a house and I’ll likely be in an apartment, but I’d still come over every day and help take care of him.
My next hour is spent researching dog shelters in the area and saving photos of all the cute dogs—well, and the ones with sad stories.
I smile when my phone buzzes with a video call. “Miss me?” I ask Donovan.
“Are you bored?” he counters.
“Oh God. Out of my fucking mind.” I flop back on the couch.
“Yeah, I figured you would be. It’s hard enough to keep you busy when you have a lot going on. You’ve had a job since we were seventeen.” He winces. “Not to rub salt in the wound or anything.”
“Eh, it’s fine. I know what you meant. Hey, what do you think about a Lab mix?”
His brows pull together cutely. He’s wearing scrubs with rainbows all over them. “Huh?”
“I was looking up dogs at the shelters.”
“No.”
“But they’re so cute!”
“Eric, we’re not getting a dog.”
I roll my eyes. “Why not? You like dogs. I like dogs. It makes sense we would get a dog.”
“I don’t know why not, but no.”
“You’re boring.”
He sighs. “Do you really think now is the best time for us to get a pet?”
Shit. He’s right. What was I thinking? Why would I plan to get a dog when I’m unemployed and don’t have any money coming in? “Fuck. I wasn’t thinking about the money.”
He frowns. “I wasn’t talking about the money, babe. I meant because I’m gone twelve hours a day and you’re on crutches. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to make big decisions like that right after getting married.”
I grin, knowing he said that to make me smile. “What about a cat? That’s a smaller decision. Most cats hate their owners, so we won’t have to do a lot.”
He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know what to do with me, and I can’t say I blame him. I don’t know what to do with me either.
“We’ll talk about it when I get home. I mostly just called to see how you’re doing and let you know that everything went well at HR. We’re all good to go.” He glances away as if unsure, which makes me want to reassure him.
“Best. Husband. Ever.”
That does the job, making his brown eyes glint. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? Get some rest if you need it, and if you’re bored, you should call Ana or something. It’s your house too, so you can have someone over.”
He really seems to be pushing this Ana thing, even though I told him we’re just friends.
“I’ll make us dinner.”
“Only if you feel up to it.”
“Shut up and go save lives.”
He laughs as I end the video call, and then I spend the next little while looking up cats at the shelter because that would be a whole lot easier to take care of than a dog right now.
The cat search doesn’t take long, and I pretty much want to adopt all of them, so before I do something stupid, I close my laptop and shoot Ana a text. Donovan was right. I am bored, so why not?
Me: I broke my ankle.
Ana: What? Oh my God. I’m so sorry.
Me: Same. And bored. I’m sooooo bored. Donovan is at work, and I have nothing to do. Also, I moved in with Donovan. Surprise!
My cell rings, and with everything I just threw at her, I’m not surprised.
“You’ve been busy,” she says as soon as I answer.
“Never a dull moment with me. What can I say?”
“Wanna do lunch to catch up? Hayes has some meetings, and he gave me a couple of hours free.”
I think about my bank balance, and though I’d love to get out of the house, I say, “Wanna come here?”
“Only if we can sit by the pool.”
“Woman after my own heart.”
“See you soon. Do you need me to bring you anything?”
“Nah, I’m good. Donovan stocked up as if he’d be gone for a month and I’m physically incapable of leaving the house.”
I hear a car door close and figure she just climbed into her ride. “Aww. He loves you.”
“Can you blame him?”
“Eh. You’re okay,” she says with a smile in her voice.
We end the call, and I clean up because I’m a little ripe, sitting around pouting all day. Ana has only been here once, when we had the pool party, but she must still have the address in her phone. I’m just making my way back into the living room, when there’s a knock at the door.
I hobble over and pull it open.
“Poor Eric. You really did break your ankle.”
“Did you think I made it up?”
She gives me a hug, then sets her purse on the shelf by the door.
She’s got her blond hair up in a messy bun with wisps hanging down.
Ana doesn’t wear a lot of makeup, just some light pink on her plump lips and some eye stuff.
She’s gorgeous, and I can’t help wondering why I’m not interested in her.
She’s hot, fun, chill, and all the things, but there’s just nothing there.
“Why did you end up moving in with Donovan? Your ankle?”
For a split second, I want to tell her about the marriage, but it’s kinda embarrassing.
Not being married to D, of course. Anyone would be lucky to say he’s their husband, but the reason why it happened and the reason I moved in are similarly unflattering, so I skim over the truth.
“Partly. I’m not working right now, and my lease is up.
Plus, I miss living with Donovan.” See? I didn’t even lie. I really do miss living with him.
“You guys are so cute together,” she says just as I’m taking a drink from my water bottle. Of course I choke and nearly die. Ana laughs, patting me on the back.
“We’re not together .” Just married.
“I didn’t mean romantically, though that wouldn’t surprise me.” She sits on a barstool.
“Um…I’m not queer.” Which is a pretty big obstacle. “Why wouldn’t you be surprised, though?”
She looks at me with her face scrunched up, like I’ve lost my mind.
“Good point about not being queer. It’s just…you and Donovan are more in tune than any two people I’ve ever known. You anticipate each other’s needs, finish each other’s sentences, and there’s a comfort between you two, a connection.”
That’s easy to explain. “We’re best friends.” I walk over to the fridge and pull out some leftover pizza—double pepperoni and sausage. “This good for lunch?”
“Leftover pizza is one of my favorite things. Let me help.” She comes over and takes the box, which does make it easier for me to use the crutches.
“Anyway, I have a best friend—other than Justin. Her name is Hillary, and we’re not you and Donovan.
It’s different. I can’t explain it. You have to know this, right? ”
Not really. Obviously, Donovan and I are close, he’s my favorite person and I better be his, but I don’t believe that’s just an us thing. “I just think that’s how best friends are. Maybe you don’t see it with you and Hillary.”
Ana shrugs. “Maybe, but I’m not so sure. The first time I came here, I totally thought the two of you were secretly hooking up.”
My mouth drops open in a way that can’t be very attractive.
She laughs. “It’s like I said: how in tune you are, the way you almost move together. It’s very sexy.”
Strangely, blood chooses that moment to start working its way to my groin. “We’re sexy?”
“Not in a gross, fetishizing way. I’ll shut up now.”
The thing is, I kinda don’t want her to shut up.
I want to know how Donovan and I are sexy.
I mean, I’m hot. And he’s hot, if guys are your thing.
It’s not like I can’t tell when someone is good-looking, and I would say D’s gotta be like a nine.
But I guess I never thought about us being sexy together , and now I can’t evict it from my mind.
“Whatever. We’re just us,” is how I respond, unsure what else to say. I put pizza on a plate for each of us, then pop hers into the microwave first.
“I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Yes. Only probably not in the way she thinks.
And I can’t even figure out how or why because it’s not like this is the first time someone has wondered if Donovan and I are together.
But they’ve also never talked about connection and moving together and sex stuff at the same time.
Maybe that’s what’s fucking with my head.
“No, I’m fine. Just tired, and my ankle hurts. ”
And I’m being dumb, so I decide to stop being dumb. Donovan and I are who we always have been, and I need to try to get laid or something. But then, I know I won’t do that. Not when I’m married to Donovan. Still, that must be the issue, though.
My weirdness right now has nothing to do with anything other than that.