Chapter Fifteen
She drove home by rote, parking in the back lot and climbing the stairs without really thinking about it.
The quiet of her apartment was welcoming, the controlled chaos of her worktable a soothing distraction.
She buried herself in it, finishing several works in progress and starting new ones, switching on the lamps when the light dimmed, ignoring the cramps in her hands and shoulders.
When her eyes grew gritty and her fingers began to fumble with the tools, she shut of her lights and tumbled into bed.
The phone woke her the next morning.
She was tempted to ignore it, but it was Bailey, and ignoring Bailey never led to peace, so she answered it on speaker and set it on the pillow next to her. “What?”
“Well, that’s a silly question,” Bailey replied, sounding ridiculously chipper for—Chloe peeled one eye open to look at the clock—seven-thirty-two in the morning.
“Bailey, it’s seven-thirty-two in the morning,” Chloe complained. “You know I can’t do riddles this early.”
“If you’re too befuddled to figure out why I might be calling you at this ungodly hour, then I have to assume the answer to my question is ‘amazing’.”
Chloe thought about hanging up and blaming it on crappy cellular service. “What was the question again?”
“How was Sunday night?”
“Oh.” Shit. “That.”
“Yes, that. Well?”
“It was amazing,” Chloe mumbled. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
Bailey was silent for a moment. “What happened?”
Chloe silently cursed. She should’ve known better. “Nothing happened. Fajitas were eaten, orgasms were had, all is right with the world.”
“I see we’re playing two truths and a lie this morning,” Bailey drawled.
Fuck. “Bailey—”
“Let’s see. Fajitas were eaten—that’s true. Orgasms were had—I’m going to say that’s true, too.”
“Bails—”
“But all is right with the world?” Bailey continued, and made a harsh buzzing sound. “Lie.”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass.”
“Back atcha, baby. Do I need to come over?”
Since it didn’t look like she was going to get back to sleep any time soon, Chloe rolled over and opened her eyes. “No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Chloe said firmly. “No, that’s not…no. Nobody hurt me.”
“But you are hurt.”
“I don’t know what I am,” Chloe admitted.
“I’m coming over.”
Resigned, Chloe sighed. “Don’t you have better things to do than to fix my life?”
“Right now? No. Do you want coffee?”
“And breakfast,” Chloe decided. She hadn’t eaten anything since the diner, and her stomach wasn’t happy about it.
“Healthy or greasy and disgusting?”
“My love life is a mess,” Chloe pointed out.
“Greasy and disgusting it is,” Bailey decided. “Half an hour.”
“Let yourself in,” Chloe told her, then hung up and went to take a shower.
* * * *
“I hate to say I told you so,” Bailey said. She was curled up on Chloe’s couch, her blue-streaked hair pulled back in braids, her University of Indiana sweatshirt covered in crumbs from the breakfast biscuit she’d just devoured.
“But you’ll manage, I’m sure,” Chloe said drily from the other end of the sofa.
Bailey picked up her coffee. “This is why the sex worker was a better idea.”
“I’m not in love with them or anything,” Chloe protested.
“But you do have feelings for them.”
“Is that so bad?” Chloe contended. “I mean, shouldn’t you have feelings for the people you have sex with?”
“Ideally, sure,” Bailey conceded. “But there’s feelings and then there’s feelings, and my guess is we’re not talking about the first kind, here.”
Chloe plucked at her breakfast sandwich, breaking off a piece of bacon. “I feel so good when I’m with them, you know? Like, really good. Safe and solid and just, I don’t know, right. Then I come back to the real world and remember how impossible it all is.”
“Why”
Chloe frowned. “Why, what?”
“Why is it impossible? Assuming they have feelings for you, too, that is.”
For her own sanity, Chloe shut that thought firmly out of her mind. “They’re married, Bailey.”
“To each other,” Bailey reminded her. “Nobody’s cheating on anybody.”
“I know, but…” Chloe shook her head. “Three people in a relationship? God, that just feels so complicated.”
“All relationships are complicated,” Bailey countered. “And you, me and Gwen are three people in a relationship.”
Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “That’s friendship, it’s different.”
“A little yeah, but not much. We still have to navigate needs and feelings, priorities and time.”
“But not sex,” Chloe pointed out.
“Doesn’t sound to me like sex is a problem with Knox and Jesse.”
“No,” Chloe admitted. “That part has never felt strange.”
“Do the non-sex parts feel strange?”
Chloe picked up her coffee, then set it down without drinking. “None of it feels strange.”
“Then why are you all twisted up in your underwear?”
Chloe fell back against the sofa cushions and closed her eyes. “Because I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay, let’s go over your options. One, stop having the sex in order to cut off the development of deeper feelings.”
Eyes still closed, Chloe frowned. “I don’t like that one.”
“Can’t blame you. Option two, decide that nothing can come from the feelings and any further sex will remain casual and non-feelings-related.”
Chloe wasn’t sure that was possible, but knew better than to say it out loud. “Okay.”
“And option three, tell Knox and Jesse you have feelings for them and want to keep having sex while exploring a romantic relationship with both of them.”
Chloe opened one eye to peer at her friend. “No offense, Bails, but all those options suck.”
“Pretty much,” Bailey agreed.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Oh, I’m not telling you that.”
Chloe opened the other eye. “What? You have to!”
“So you have someone to blame when it doesn’t go how you want it to? Sorry, pal. No get-out-of-jail-free card on this one.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Chloe said, exasperated, and closed her eyes again. “You can go now.”
“Besides,” Bailey continued as though Chloe hadn’t spoken. “You already know which one you want. You’re just scared.”
“Well, of course I’m scared,” Chloe blurted out and sat up. “Do you have any idea what my mother would say if I started dating two married men?”
“Way to go?” Bailey offered.
“That’s what your mother would say.”
“So, Annie has one of her fits.” Bailey shrugged. “It’s nothing you haven’t been through before. She threw a fit when you quit your job to make jewelry.”
“Yes, but—”
“And now look at her. She’s your biggest fan, always trying to sell your earrings to the ladies at her job and at church.”
“This is different, Bails, and you know it. She’ll seriously wig out, and the rest of the family will follow. It could be worse than the time my cousin Marcie gave all her money to that preacher, then bought him a ticket to Peru when the FBI tried to arrest him for fraud and money laundering.”
“Hey, they forgave her. When she got out of jail, they threw her a big party with cake and everything. Besides,” Bailey continued, “your mom loves you and wants you to be happy.”
“I don’t know if she wants me to be this happy,” Chloe muttered. “And what if…”
“What if, what?” Bailey prompted.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Chloe blurted out, giving voice to her biggest fear. “What if they don’t feel the same way I do? I could end up with nothing.”
“What if it does?” Bailey countered. “What if they do? You could end up with everything.”
* * * *
Chloe went downstairs for her shift with the insulated food bag she’d borrowed.
Mo was in the office, muttering over payroll and scheduling, and barely glanced up when Chloe ducked in to grab an apron.
Grateful to avoid interaction, Chloe walked down the hall toward the kitchen.
Carrie was already at the stove in a white chef’s coat, her blonde hair tied back in her habitual blue bandana, stirring something in the big stock pot.
Hoping to return the bag and duck back out, Chloe moved quietly to the shelf. But Carrie glanced over her shoulder and spotted her. “Hey, come taste this.”
Resigned, Chloe tucked the insulated bag away, then obediently crossed to the stove and took the spoon Carrie held out. The soup was creamy and rich, with fat chunks of ham and potato. “That’s really good.”
“Ham and potato with cheddar,” Carrie said, giving the pot another stir. “Put it on the specials board, will you?”
“Sure,” Chloe said and turned away to do just that.
“How’d the fajitas go over?”
Chloe stopped at the door to glance back. “They were great. Thumbs up all around.”
“Glad to hear it. Tell Knox anytime he wants more, I’m happy to whip ’em up.”
For a moment Chloe just stared. “What?”
Carrie put the lid on the pot and turned, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Jesse too, but I figure they were Knox’s request, seeing as he’s the Texas boy.”
Panic threatened to close her throat, so she had to force the laugh through. “What are you talking about? I had the fajitas with Bailey and Gwen.”
“No, you didn’t.” Carrie set the kitchen rag aside. “You had them with Knox and Jesse, and spent the night at their house.”
“I…I…”
“Bailey’s allergic to avocados,” Carrie reminded her. “And Gwen, who came in on Sunday afternoon to go over the menu for the restaurant, is a terrible liar. And I, my girl, am not blind.”
With her heart in her throat and panic making her head light, Chloe leaned against the wall. “Does Mo know?”
“Don’t think so. She’d tell me if she did.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Why would I? You’re an adult, what you do on your own time is your business.”
Chloe sagged with relief.
“But she’s not blind either, so she’ll eventually figure it out,” Carrie went on. “Especially if this is going to be an ongoing thing.” She waited a beat, then raised an eyebrow. “Is this going to be an ongoing thing?”
Chloe took a deep breath. “I hope so.”
Carrie nodded. “Well, like I said, that’s your business. But if my opinion counts for anything, I like them.”