Chapter 9
NINE
Bristol
Out of an abundance of caution, the doctors at the clinic gave me a couple of booster shots and assured me that it was unlikely I’d been bitten if I didn’t see or feel a bite.
And likewise, it was unlikely, even if I had, that I’d contract rabies given the fact I was already vaccinated.
But they still sent me home with paperwork on what to watch for, and between the booster shots and the chaos of the day, I’m exhausted.
Anson insisted on bringing me to his house to take a nap, and he let me have his bed for the purpose.
It’s only when I hear the door open and shut that I realize how late it is.
Anson’s just back from dropping Ford off at practice, and it’s already after dinner if the low bow of the sun in the sky is any indication.
I hear the door to the room creak open, and I crane my head to see Anson standing there.
“How you feelin’?”
“I’m all right. Can’t believe how late it is.”
“You hungry? I got some pizza on the way home. Grabbed a couple of things from Hotcakes before Marlowe closed up shop for the day. She said to tell you she hopes you feel better and to text her.”
“I could eat. She didn’t happen to have any of the pumpkin spice cookies, did she?”
“She did. She said you’d want one. That it’d make you right as rain.”
I grin at my friend’s thoughtfulness and Anson’s too.
“Thank you. I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time. Pizza’s as hot as the center of the sun anyway.”
“Learned the hard way?”
“Might’ve.” He grins as he closes the door again.
He and Ford could never wait to eat. They were always ravenous and notoriously burned their mouths by eating the food I cooked before it had time to cool off. Remembering that makes this feel normal again. Like we should. Maybe we can fix this after all.
We eat dinner in comfortable silence, too hungry to care about the fact that there’s no conversation between us.
Not even the kind where I update him on all the mundane comings and goings, and he grunts in response while stuffing another forkful of food down between swallows of beer.
But when we reach the end of our meal, our time is up.
The tension in the room builds with each scrape of the plate into the trash and every piece of pizza I load into a container then slide into the fridge.
When I turn back to put the box away and make the mistake of looking at him, he has the all too serious we-need-to-talk look on his face. I feel my pulse pick up in response.
I don’t know where this is headed, but I’m hoping it’s not back to our earlier argument. Pizza tonight felt like we were almost back to our normal groove, like we might still recover from the growing mountain of awkward occurrences between us this week.
“I’m sorry for being so pushy today about the bites and the clinic.” He breaks the silence.
“You were just worried. I understand.”
“It was still me crossing a boundary, and I don’t want you to think I don’t take yours seriously.”
“Anson, you don’t have to apologize. I was scared too, honestly. I just felt silly. We had just been arguing a bit before that, and well, this week just feels like one absurd situation after another for me. I’m just a little sore over all the embarrassment.” I opt for blunt honest.
“I know. And you’re right. I should mind my business about who you’re dating. It’s not my concern the way you getting hurt on my construction site is.”
“You’re concerned for Ford. He’s at that age when he’s impressionable.
Whether he wants to admit it or not. Chris definitely isn’t a good role model for him.
You’re right about that too.” I’m warming up to my admission that Chris isn’t my boyfriend.
Explaining that I don’t have one at all.
I’m just working up to the courage to admit one more humiliating aspect of this week.
“What goes on between you and Jasper isn’t my business either. I was just surprised is all. I know you thought it was him in that closet. So you kissing him right after made sense—”
“I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”
Anson tilts his head, and his eyes lift from the floor.
“Is that distinction important, given that you were under the impression you were half naked for him a few minutes before that?”
“Considering I knew it was you and not him by then, yes. I know you must think I’m quite the harlot right now, but it wasn’t the way it looked. Or looks.”
“Meaning?”
I glance out the window, wishing there was a way to buy my way out of this or just run off into the woods and not have to fess up to the mess I’m in. But my mama always says the best way out of anything is straight through it.
“Meaning there is no boyfriend. Chris or otherwise. We’re still very much broken up. In fact, he dumped me.”
Anson stares at me in shocked silence for a long beat before he erupts into laughter. It stings for a moment before he makes it clear it’s Chris who’s the object of his amusement and not me.
“That fucking asshole thinks he can do better?” Anson laughs full and hard, shaking his head and rubbing his hands together before he cracks his knuckles.
“If he wasn’t behind bars, I’d knock some fucking sense into him.
Christ. That fucker.” Another derisive shake of his head follows, and something about it makes my stomach flutter.
Anson looks so good right now. Just standing in his kitchen.
His old Briggs Construction shirt on and his worn-out ball cap turned backward as he leans against the counter.
His jeans fit him perfectly, just enough to highlight his thighs, and I’m imagining unbuttoning them for a better look before I realize what I’m doing.
“I don’t know what he thinks. I don’t care,” I murmur trying to remember what I should say in this moment.
“You should tell Jasper the truth, then.”
“Why?”
He shakes his head, and something flashes over his face that I can’t read. I don’t know what the two of them discussed.
“Is that the reason Jasper’s not at the worksite? He’s angry with me?”
“If he was, and I’m not saying that. But if he was, would that be so hard to believe?
You were pretty eager to be with him at the wedding, and then a few days later, you’ve got another boyfriend.
I’m not shaming you, Bristol. Not at all.
I’m just saying that’s some understandable whiplash to endure if a guy has feelings for you. ”
“Jasper does not have feelings for me. I was just the night’s entertainment. If he said otherwise, it’s because he’s just a little sore that he didn’t get what he wanted.”
Anson frowns like I’m underestimating him. But I’ve known Jasper for as long as Anson has.
“Oh please. You know how he is. Always a different woman in his bed. No strings. No feelings. It’s just about having someone warm and willing.”
“Him being casual about sex doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t have feelings. I just said he doesn’t have them for me.”
“You should talk to him.”
“I would have today if he’d shown up. But he didn’t, did he?”
Anson still has a grumpy look on his face, but his brow relaxes ever so slightly. I can still see the worry there, and suddenly I realize what’s happening.
“There’s nothing wrong with him having women he has arrangements with. As long as he’s honest and up front with them. Keeping everyone clear about expectations and respecting boundaries.”
“Did he not respect your boundaries?” Anson looks up at me suddenly. I can see his fingers flex at his side. I wish for one second I could stop fumbling this so badly.
“No. I mean, yes. He respected them. I’m just saying.”
“Saying what?”
“It felt like you were projecting what I was saying about him onto your situation.”
“My situation?” Anson echoes again.
“You and Jasper. It’s kind of the same deal, right? Casual arrangements?”
He looks like a deer in headlights. I suppose us talking about his relationship status is brand-new territory. I would never broach it if the situation wasn’t practically demanding it.
“You’re not dating any of them, are you? Because then I’m going to feel bad about Saturday night too.”
“Dating any of who?”
“Anson, I know you’re seeing women some nights when you ask me to stay here late with Ford.” I can feel him getting ready to protest, so I continue on. “You come home disheveled. Smelling like perfume. It’s not hard to put the pieces together.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I know. You’re a little more charitable than Jasper. Honestly, I admire it. I was just surprised”
“What are you talking about?” The space between his brows is doing its own impression of the Grand Canyon now.
“I know you’re helping women work through their fears of getting out there again. So to speak.”
He stands up straighter, his hands gripping the quartz countertop behind him. His eyes dart to the floor, and I can tell this is not where he expected this conversation to go.
“How? Did one of them contact you? Did they say something?” His demeanor changes from embarrassment to the verge of ire.
“No. Why would they do that?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and takes a breath.
“When I tried to date. At first. A couple of years after… A couple of the women, when they found out you were Ford’s nanny—his aunt. That you stayed here…” He shrugs.
“What about it?” I’m confused now.
“They told me it was you or them.”
“They what?!” I’m shocked. Back then, the age gap would have seemed steeper than it does now. But I’m his son’s aunt. “They what? Thought you were just going to what? Wine and dine them, and then come home and fuck your nanny? What a low opinion to have of all of us.”
“I don’t know if they thought it through that far. I think they just thought you were friendly and pretty, and I relied on you a lot back then. Probably more than I should have when you were still in college.”
“Your wife had just died and left you alone to parent Ford. He wasn’t always an easy kid.
Gosh, he still isn’t some days. The teen years suck by the way!
But what I mean is… the least I could do was help.
You helped me too. I see why you’ve focused on dating people who understand where you’re coming from. ”
Silence falls around us for a long moment before he returns to the previous question.
“How do you know about the women from the support group?”
Oh. Right. Telling him the truth about this is going to mean fessing up to something else he doesn’t know about. Another awkward moment to add to the pile.
“One of them came into my adult toy shop.”
I wait for the inevitable grasping of pearls, or whatever thirty-something male construction company CEOs clutch when they’re shocked. But it doesn’t come. He doesn’t seem surprised at all.
“You’re not going to lecture me?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
“About the toy shop? No. Seems like you did a smart thing. I’ve heard it’s doing well.”
“How long have you known?”
“A while.” He shrugs before his eyes drift up to meet mine. “How long have you known?”
“About a year,” I answer, and he winces in response.
“She didn’t say your name. But she mentioned enough things about you.
She really wanted to impress you. It was so sweet.
I didn’t think anything of it until that night.
You were passed out on the couch, and your phone was still unlocked.
She sent you a picture in one of the lingerie pieces I helped her pick out.
Between the name on the text and the lingerie… ”
“Yeah, I’m following.” He scrubs a hand over his face and pulls his baseball cap off, turning it forward again and pulling the bill low over his eyes. He rubs a hand over his mouth and utters a low curse, shifting on his feet.
“I’m not judging you or shaming you. I assume you enjoy it. I mean, you must, because you have glowing reviews. The fact that women are reccing you to their friends? That’s a hell of a résumé. I hope it went well. She was so excited.” I smile again when I think of her.
“Bristol…” He groans, and he flips his ball cap backward again like he doesn’t know what to do with himself before there’s another low series of curses.
“No. I mean. I get it. I’d pay good money for that, honestly. I know it’s just the post-breakup blues in my case. I can only imagine being in their situation. God. It must be awful.”
“They don’t pay me.”
“Oh. No, I mean, I didn’t mean to imply they did. I just meant. Shit. I see how that sounds. I mean, even if they did pay you, I’m not judging. Money well spent. You know?”
“They don’t.”
“Right, I just mean they’d be worth paying for. Er. You’d be worth paying for. Having had a touch of the experience, I get it. God. Okay. I’m going to shut up now.” I bury my face in my hands, barely peeking at him through my fingers.
He tilts his head to the side, still clearly uncomfortable with this conversation, but as his eyes meet mine, his face breaks from confusion into amusement.
“You’d pay, huh?”
“I’m just saying!” I throw my hands up in my own defense.
“How much?”
“I mean, the shop probably isn’t doing well enough to afford you. Unless there were package deals.”
Another round of laughter rolls free from deep in his chest, and it’s infectious.
“I did not mean the pun there. I swear—this week—we’re just a mess. I don’t know how we made it this many years with everything working perfectly, and then now all of a sudden, everything is just chaos.”
He shakes his head and shrugs like he’s as confused as I am about how we got here.
“Can you imagine if Hazel knew?”
“But she doesn’t.”
“Marlowe won’t tell her?”
“Not if she knows what’s good for her.”
“We’ll have a military tribunal for not telling her and then a shotgun wedding in one day if she does.”
“Marlowe won’t tell her. And we definitely won’t. So we should be good.” At least if I can stop thinking about him and that night. Over and over again. “There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That night. I didn’t know it was you. You didn’t talk. Your suit was almost the same color. And your height is similar to Jasper’s. But I was talking the whole time. You had to have known it was me.”