8. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Christian
D o not ogle Noah’s ass while he’s bent to pet the puppy.
Right. Like a stern lecture from my inner voice was somehow going to have me paying attention. Uh…no.
“So you’ve really never gone strawberry picking?” Daphne offered me a smile. “It’s actually a ton of fun. We should go next month. They grow in the late spring.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Christian?”
Something in her tone of voice had me refocusing. “Sorry. Strawberries. Spring.”
She smiled, with sparkling eyes. “Soren’s gay. Just inserting that into the conversation.”
I frowned.
She countered with a grin. “You can’t take your eyes off him.
And I can completely understand. I was so disappointed when I found out he doesn’t swing my way.
I mean, I’m fresh out of my divorce, and probably shouldn’t be looking, but I’d have to be blind not to notice him.
Premature gray and owns it. I love that confidence.
I figure I’ll be coloring my hair as long as I’m able—I don’t ever want to show my age. ”
Does she realize Soren and Noah are probably setting up a date right now? They make a striking couple —
“Christian?”
I blinked. “Daphne, I’m so sorry.”
Stormy bonked Penny on the head again.
“Hey.” My dog gazed up at me with completely innocent eyes.
Penny resumed trying to mouth Stormy’s paw.
I’d have sworn to God that my dog rolled her eyes as if to say, kids…what can you do about them?
She truly was a precious dog.
“What I can’t figure out—” Daphne gazed between me and the two men. “—is if you’re interested in Soren or Noah. Because either presents interesting options. Oh, or maybe you like both, and you’d like a ménage.”
My eyes widened. “It’s not like that.”
“If you say so.” Her eyes sparkled in a way that assured me she didn’t believe my denial.
Like, at all. She pressed a hand to my arm in a very informal, but not unwelcome, gesture.
“Life’s short. I don’t regret my marriage or my divorce.
But I’m not going to sit on the sidelines.
Obviously, I won’t hit on either of those two men.
Or you,” she quickly added. “That said, any of you might be bi… ”
I was about to try to deny I was gay. Or even make a feeble attempt at claiming to be bi. The truth? I was gay. And I had feelings for precisely one man. “I’ll do better at concealing it.” I offered a smile.
“Or you can own up to it and tell the truth. Life’s too short for regrets.” She squeezed my arm. “Okay, you’ve inspired me.”
I blinked. “I have?”
“Yes.” She said the word definitively. “I’m going to make a profile on one of those dating apps.”
“Uh…” Seriously? That’s what you got from this conversation? “Are those things even safe?” I flashed back to the three jerks Noah had met through various apps—including Leroy the creepoid.
“Of course.” She pursed her lips. “But I promise to tell someone where I’m going and with whom.”
That only made me feel marginally better. “I wish you luck. I’m good, though, okay? No need to say anything to anyone.”
“Ah, so, Noah. The man must be blind—living with you and not even noticing. Still, I’ll keep quiet. But if you get together, I’d like to know about it.”
I met her gaze.
“So I can gloat.” She gently tugged Penny’s leash. “Come, Penny.”
The puppy perked, clearly understanding playtime was over.
Noah didn’t intend to teach come until later in the class. Unsurprisingly, Penny would be ahead of the curve.
“Don’t wait too long.” With those parting words, Daphne gently urged Penny to follow her.
Soren appeared to be ending his conversation with Noah as well. He gave me a quick wave before heading to his car. He was, objectively, a very attractive man. Who, as Daphne suggested, wore his prematurely gray hair with grace and dignity .
She suggested that, had their positions be reversed, that she’d color her hair.
I wasn’t certain I wouldn’t do the same thing.
Noah snagged the poop bag discarded at the corner of the ring—because wow, could Bruiser produce some stinky shit—and he headed my way.
I cleared my throat. “Soren seems nice.”
My best friend halted his walk. “Sure.”
“He’s gay.”
“I’m aware.”
“Well, I’m just saying maybe you should ask him out. When puppy class is over, if there’s a conflict. Although I’m not certain there is. It’s not like you’re going to give Tibby preferential treatment or better grades because you’re dating her daddy.”
“That’s true.” Noah gestured for us to walk toward the gate for the pen.
Stormy fell into step with me.
“Right? So you should make a move.”
Noah halted. “Last week you said I wasn’t ready for a relationship and I shouldn’t go out with the pet store manager.”
Shit. “That was different.”
“How?” He held my gaze. “Because I’m trying to figure out, aside from the fact you’ve met Soren, and not Sam, why things have changed in the past week.”
Shit. “Well, I have met Soren. He seems nice.” And it’ll break my heart, but I want you to be happy.
“Christian?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to ask you a really important question.”
“Okay. ”
“Are you suggesting I ask Soren out because he’s white?”
My eyes widened. “No. Not at all. I’m suggesting you ask him out because he seems like a nice guy.
” I floundered. “You always seem to pick jerks.” I wanted to point out there were plenty of nice Black men…
but that he never seemed to pick them. Instead, I opened my big mouth and said, “Can you just get over your distrust of white guys?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a distrust of white guys.” His brow furrowed, and he appeared truly confused.
“Yes, you do. You only ever date Black guys. Why is that?” Oh God, do you really want to step into this? This is such a fraught subject.
Yeah, but if he keeps on this trajectory, I’ll never stand a chance.
Do you really have one anyway? You’re being selfish.
“Because I'm only attracted to Black guys.” Even as he said the words, his brow furrow deepened.
“No, you're not—because you point out cute white guys all the time, but you only ever date Black guys. And creeps at that. There are plenty of nice white and Black guys, but you never seem to pick them.” In for a penny…
“That doesn't mean anything. I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“You have a hang-up from all those losers your mum dated.” Along with Noah, I’d watched his mother date her way through a series of not-so-great men.
I adored Mrs. Gainey, but she didn’t appear to believe she deserved a good guy either.
I worried Noah was following in her footsteps.
But how was I possibly going to convince anyone they deserved better when I couldn’t even stand up for myself?
“No, I don't.” He gestured. “Jesus, Christian, where is this coming from?”
Frustration welled within me, and I spat out, “You don't trust white guys. ”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. I trust you. You’ve been my best friend since forever. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s just wrong.”
“No, you don't trust me.”
“Yes, I do.” Exasperation was clear in his tone.
“No, you don't. Because if you trusted me, you would've believed me the first time I told you Leroy was cheating.” Careful where you go with this.
Yeah, but I’m tired of playing it safe.
“You never told me that.”
“Yes, I did! You dismissed it—you said, they're really good friends .” I let out a long sigh. “And then when I told you again, you dismissed me, saying you trusted him. In the end I had to send you—” Shit. Shit. Shit.
Noah’s eyes widened.
The silence stretched between the two of us.
“What the actual fuck, Christian.” His voice was very quiet.
I knew what that meant. “Shit.” I blew out a breath.
“I was never going to say anything—especially when you left him. I mean, he was cheating on you. And I worried about whether he was being safe. Whether he was risking your health. And you’d given up Fluffy to be with him, and he so didn’t deserve you.
Wasn’t worthy of you, and then he cheated.
I tried to tell you. That I’d seen them together, and they were way too…
friendly…to be just…friends.” When I say that out loud, it sounds extra stupid.
Yeah. Except my instincts were right, and he was cheating.
Noah tossed the bag of dog shit at me.
I caught it easily.
“I’m going for a very long drive. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Take care of Stormy.” Then he stalked away .
That he felt he had to ask me to take care of our dog hurt more than the bag of dog shit being tossed at me.
I watched as he got in his car and drove to the road. Props to him, he got out of the car and closed the gate before getting back into his car and driving away.
Stormy whined.
“Sorry.” I leaned over to unclip her leash. “Do you want to go for a walk? We could walk the property line.”
Storm clouds had moved in overhead, but the meteorologist had said the rain and wind would come later in the afternoon.
After tossing the bag in the garbage, I clicked my tongue and headed toward the outer fence.
Stormy followed.
In the end, the weather forecasters proved wrong, and we were at the far end of the property when the rain started. This wasn’t a gentle downpour either. In one moment, we had a light breeze and then next we were in a torrential downpour.
My dog, who apparently still didn’t like storms—for very good reasons—bolted ahead for the safety of the porch.
I considered sprinting but, in the end, decided I deserved to get soaked and cold.
When I reached the house, Stormy nudged against me. Which was the perfect end to this clusterfuck—I was going to end up smelling like wet dog. I led her into the house and dried her off as best I could. Then, once she was settled on the bathroom mat, I took a shower.
When we were both drier, we headed downstairs. Since it neared dinnertime, I fed her.
The rain continued to pour down in buckets, but no thunder or lightning accompanied it, so Stormy appeared okay with the noise.
I checked the crock-pot to find the ribs nearly cooked. I’d planned ahead so we’d have something hearty to share after the first class.
All that effort had proved to be for nothing if Noah didn’t return home. Well, I’d leave a plate for him in the fridge, but that wasn’t the same as fresh-out-of-the-crock-pot ribs.
By seven, I was clearly not going to have company for dinner. I ate the ribs, fresh corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes—all Noah’s favorite foods.
The entire silent meal, I cursed my stupidity. For bringing up every sore spot in Noah’s life—including a few he might not’ve even known he had. Although Aunt June admonished me many times when I put myself down, I couldn’t help myself then, and I still can’t help myself now .
If Noah tried to put himself down, of course, I argued vociferously.
He was a damn smart man. And yeah, full-time college had been out of reach, but he’d still spent all that time learning to train dogs.
Between his talent and what I’d learned at business school, we had enough to make a success of his business.
Yeah, but will he ever want your help? I should put everything I do in writing so he’ll know what needs to be taken care of.
I thought about the pens we planned to buy. The doggie daycare we considered opening. All the training classes Noah planned on teaching. If I left, he wouldn’t be able to afford this place on his own. He needed me.
Just like I needed him—and not just because of the money. I’d heard of some rooms. Over the local watering hole? Somewhere I could go and probably survive on my salary.
Noah couldn’t survive without me right now.
Unless he went to Soren and they’re going at it right now. Or the guy from the pet store. Or he installed an app, and —
I needed to stop. I could spiral downward fast when I started thinking of Noah with his hookups. With his boyfriends. All those nights he assumed I was out with Laura—but was actually home alone. I’d assumed Laura was home alone as well.
She’d always been tactful. She’d also let me know she wasn’t ready for formal courting yet.
I’d trusted that she knew what she was doing and that, when the time was right, we’d come out with our engagement announcement.
God knew, our parents were putting enough pressure on us.
Well, more, my family. They needed the money. They needed the share of the company that the Frankstons were going to gift me upon my marriage to their daughter.
I still resented my parents. They’d overspent for years and when facing bankruptcy, had sold thirty percent of their share in the business to the Frankstons. So instead of the fifty-fifty our grandparents had created, we were now minority owners in the business. A continuously growing business.
Still not enough for my parents.
When I married Laura, the Frankstons planned to gift me twenty percent—which my parents planned to take possession of immediately.
What a mess.
A clusterfuck as Noah liked to say.
Since I never swore, I stuck with mess.
I climbed into bed with a weariness I hadn’t felt for a long time. Even when we’d put in those long days driving across the country, I didn’t feel as tired as I did tonight.
When Stormy leapt on the bed to keep my company—against Noah’s rules—I didn’t have the energy to shoo her off.
Or maybe, just as likely, I wanted the company.
Sleep was a long time coming.
But come it did.