Chapter 10
LILY
SIX WEEKS AGO
The breeze is slight as I sit on the back patio with a glass of wine in hand, legs tucked beneath me on the lounge chair. Anderson sits beside me, his head leaned back, eyes closed, the glow of the porch light outlining new lines on his face.
I swirl the glass, staring at the deep red liquid as my mind drifts.
“The movie was good,” I say absently.
He snorts. “You tricked me into watching a romantic comedy. I wouldn’t exactly deem it as being good.”
I shift so I can stare at his profile. “It was though. Didn’t it make you feel happy and miss that newness of falling in love?”
“I’d put more stock in the fact that it’s twenty years later and we’re still together.”
Still together. Not in love, but still together.
“You mean still in love, right?” I laugh the question off but wait for his answer.
“I wouldn’t be with you, Lil, if I didn’t love you.”
Well, there’s that, right?
But I can’t stop thinking about the movie. He’s right. It was silly and stupid, but I sat and watched the kissing scenes and was jealous. Who in the hell is jealous of actors kissing?
Me. Waves hand high in the sky.
When was the last time Anderson put an effort into kissing me? I guess the same can be said for me, but mine’s not from a lack of trying. When was the last time a kiss turned me on? The kind that makes your stomach drop and your pulse race?
I can’t remember.
These days it’s a peck goodbye. A peck hello. Lips brushing like a habit and not because you stop to really think about it.
I should be lucky I get at least that, right?
But there’s something about kissing that’s always gotten me. The slowness, the build, and the promise of something more. And then there’s that sweet ache that burns kiss by kiss until you can’t handle it anymore.
I used to be shameless and beg for it. His mouth on mine. His tongue stealing my breath. How he’d kiss me like he couldn’t get enough.
If only I knew how to fix this. Fix us. Does he know what a simple, passion-filled kiss would do for me?
I take another sip of wine as courage pools in the pit of my stomach. “I miss how we used to kiss. Not putting blame as it’s both of ours, but . . . I miss it.”
Anderson glances over to me, brow furrowed. “Kissing is a wasted action.”
What the hell? “Not to me. It makes me feel closer to you.”
His smirk is faint as he takes a sip of his wine. “I can’t be much closer than when I’m inside you, correct?”
I set my glass down with a sharp clink. “But it’s what I need to feel closer to you. To know I’m not just a hole to occupy.”
“Lily,” he warns, jaw tight. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. And crass.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But I can’t keep telling you what I need, Anderson, and you keep dismissing it without eventually thinking you simply don’t care about me. And if that’s the case . . . then why are we still together?”
“What?” He stares at me, stunned, like I’ve just spoken a foreign language. Shock etches in the lines of his face, but not remorse. Not understanding. Just shock that I dared to say it out loud. “Lily, what did you just say?”
“Nothing.” I wave a hand. “Never mind.” I grit my teeth and stiffen my spine. “I’ve told you that I need more. That I want more.” Like kisses that steal my breath and attention that is more than a to-do checklist. “Not because I don’t love you, but because I do.”
His sigh is heavy, but he reaches out, puts his hand on my thigh, and squeezes it. We sit like this for some time. My thoughts race and as much as I hate myself for ruining a perfectly good evening, I also feel a sense of relief having spoken up.
“I hear you, Lily. I hear what you’re saying.”
Anderson doesn’t say anything else, but it’s more than he’s said in a long time and so it has to be enough.
For now.