Chapter 8
TAYA
“Tell me more about your life,” Chewie ordered as he pulled me closer to his side. Once I was pressed up against him, he sighed deeply. “I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to sleep by myself again.”
I could be wild and impetuous. Every time I looked at that ugly table, I was reminded of just how wild I could be.
Spending a few nights having hot sex with a gorgeous younger man before we went our separate ways was going to top the antique atrocity by a mile.
But then a few nights turned into six, and now I knew I wouldn’t just look back on this weekend fondly. I’d have to recover from the heartbreak of it ending.
“I can hear your gears turning, Tay.” Tay. Somehow I’d gone my entire life without anyone shortening my name, but Chewie had, and it sounded like an endearment. “What are you thinking about?”
“I don’t want this weekend to end,” I admitted.
“Sweetheart, the weekend was over three days ago.”
“I mean this,” I said before I kissed his pec and snuggled against him.
Chewie tensed before he asked, “Why does it have to end?”
“We live very different lives, Chewie.”
Now his body wasn’t the only thing tense. His voice was a little harder when he asked, “What does that mean?”
“I’ve got kids and a house . . .”
“I’ve got a kid, and I live in a house. It’s not mine, but it’s my home for now.”
“I’ve got deadlines and responsibilities.”
“Well, I work, so I know about those things too,” Chewie said, the tension turning to anger. “Am I just a bad boy fling you’ll be ashamed of when you go back to your pristine life?”
“Of course not!”
“What would you think if I showed up at your house with flowers to take you on a date?”
“Why would you do that?”
“So, you think this was just a fling for me and that the second I get home, I’m going to forget all about you?”
Now I was tense. Did he want something more? Could I do that? Should I do that?
“We didn’t exactly talk about anything past this weekend,” I answered.
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I just want to put it out there that I went into this with an open mind, and since I’ve spent the last six days with you, almost every single minute of the day and night, and I just admitted that I don’t want to sleep without you by my . . . “
“Technically, you said you didn’t know if you could.”
“Are we arguing details now?”
“Are we arguing?" I retorted, knowing we were well on our way to a big one.
Of course, when you spent six days in such close confines as Chewie and I had, that was inevitable.
However, we’d mostly been watching videos on my laptop, having sex, and sleeping - with a few meals thrown in here and there and occasional visits to see Sugar and Juni, so there wasn’t exactly a reason to argue.
“Well, yeah. I’m pissed!”
“You are?”
“How can you not tell?”
“Uh, because you’re not yelling?” That was more of a question than an answer, but it was all I had.
In my experience, which really shouldn’t factor against Chewie since my ex was a complete asshole, yelling was a given in an argument.
Whether big or small, it started out loud and just got louder and usually included him throwing or breaking something and then blaming it on me for pissing him off in the first place.
Now that I was out of the situation, I could see just how unhealthy that behavior had been, but I started dating Boyd when I was seventeen and just a few months out of high school.
Our entire relationship was a learning experience for me.
By the time we got together, he’d already been married once, and I’d rarely dated.
I gave myself a pass for living with behaviors that no one should accept as normal because I was too young to know better.
“I don’t have to yell because you’re lying right here beside me.”
“Are you telling me that you don’t raise your voice when you’re angry?”
“I’m sure I do.”
“Well, you’re not right now.”
“Can we circle back to the original subject that started this conversation?”
“Do we have to?” I asked without thinking.
Chewie carefully pulled his arm out from under my pillow before he rolled away and put his feet on the floor. He sat there for a few seconds, quietly staring at the wall, before he reached over and turned on the lamp. It was easy to gauge how angry he was by the look on his face.
He wasn’t always smiling and cheerful, and I’d noticed before that he had a very intense stare, but when he turned so he could look down at me, his expression was enough to make me think that I might have pushed him too far.
If this had been an argument with Boyd, I would have already apologized at least three times just to get him to calm down, but I didn’t feel the same anxiety now that I’d felt for all of those years.
It hit me then that I already trusted Chewie even though I didn’t know him well at all.
I should be wary . . . shouldn’t I?
“To avoid this argument getting even more out of control, I’d like to talk about shit with the light on so I can see your face.”
Out of control? He considered this a major argument? He thought this conversation was out of control?
I had a vision of the guy from social media who raced across a field carrying a big red or green flag, depending on the video he was stitching. I knew that if he had been listening to this conversation, he’d be jumping for joy and waving the green one as fast as his arm could move.
“What are you thinking about right now?”
“Flags,” I blurted.
Chewie scowled before he asked, “Are you just trying to make me crazy?”
“No, I was thinking about that guy on the internet that analyzes couples and waves a red or green flag depending on how he views the situation.”
“There you go. You circled back to it yourself. I went into this thinking it was going to be a fun weekend with the possibility of something more since we live in the same goddamn town. I thought that might mean we could become a couple someday, but to you, I’m just a quick fuck.”
“I hurt your feelings.”
“You are trying to make me crazy!”
I couldn’t help but giggle before I said, “I’m really not.”
“Well, you are!” he huffed before he pressed his lips together and lowered his head. “I don’t like thinking I’m not good enough, Taya.”
“Good enough? What are you talking about?” I asked as I pushed up onto one elbow and leaned forward to meet his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying!”
“It feels like it is, though. You’ve got a job and kids and deadlines, but I’ve got those things, too, so I’m not sure why you don’t feel they’re equally important.”
“I don’t even know what you do for a living!”
“I figured if you wanted to know, you’d ask. I should have clued in when you never did.”
“Because I thought this was just a weekend thing!” Chewie hummed and slowly nodded in response, and out of exasperation, I asked, “How could it be anything more? Why would you want it to be? Do you know how old I am?”
“Do you know how much I don’t give a fuck about that?” he asked in reply.
“You’re only ten years older than my son!”
“That’s what’s got your panties in a twist?”
“You did not just . . .” I narrowed my eyes and huffed before I threw myself back on the bed and ran my hand over my face. I kept my hand over my eyes. “Why would a gorgeous younger man with an unlimited future in front of him want a woman like me?”
I felt the bed move and knew Chewie was hovering over me when he used his free hand to pull mine away from my face and cradle it as he rested it on my chest.
“Anyone who spends more than ten minutes with you can see that you’re smart, funny, and caring, with a great personality, a wicked sense of humor, and an incredibly smart mouth. And they see a woman with flawless skin, beautiful curls, a bright smile . . .”
“I’ve got wrinkles, Chewie.”
He let go of my hand and traced the corner of my lip and then moved up to my temple before he said, “These are lines that show how often you smile.” My eyes closed when he ran his fingers over my forehead and then rubbed between my eyebrows and said, “And these mean that you worry too much.” When his hand went back to mine and interlaced our fingers, I opened my eyes and looked up into his as he said, “They’re not wrinkles, Tay.
Not yet, at least. They’re signs that you enjoy life and spend too much time in your head.
They show the world just how unique and wonderful you are. ”
“I’m going to need to write all of that down and sell it to a face cream company for their next marketing campaign,” I said with a grin, trying to mask the fact that my heart was racing and the sweet way he’d described me made me want to cry. “We could make a fortune.”
“I don’t need a fortune. I have a great job that pays well and takes me all over the place.
Most of the time, it’s boring as hell, but other times, it’s so exciting that I’m almost embarrassed to admit I’m getting paid for it.
What I need is someone who makes me laugh, makes me think, and makes me want to roll over and snuggle rather than get up. I feel like I’ve found that in you.”
“All this time, I’ve joked that you’re my muse, but I was just referencing how you look. I had no idea that you’re the complete package.”
“You’ve seen my package, sweetheart, and you seemed to like it.”
I gave him a bored look, but it was ruined by the tears in my eyes. Chewie smiled as he wiped away one that was rolling down my temple toward the pillow. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. I was just being honest.”
“I don’t know how we can make this work.”
“We’ve been attached at the hip for almost a week, and it’s been pretty effortless. That is refreshing in and of itself.”
“You’ve put in a lot of effort,” I teased.
“I’ll put in plenty more if you give me a chance.”
◆◆◆
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”
Juni looked up from her coffee and smiled before she said, “I don’t think we’re talking about work anymore, are we?”
“It’s been two years since I ran into Chewie in the bookstore. Because of you, I could finally get to know him.”