Chapter Twenty-Eight Euan
An hour later, we lie on the cleaned couch, Alex sprawled limply across my chest. The movie we didn’t watch at all is playing from the beginning in the background.
There’s no way Alex has enough energy to walk around a grocery store, so we placed an order for delivery instead, and they should arrive by lunch.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had a more perfect morning.
“So,” I begin, idly stroking Alex’s back, “you have a praise kink.”
“Do I?” he asks, sounding startled, like this is news to him even though I started with the most obvious one.
I arch an eyebrow. “Why are you surprised? You’re a people pleaser who always wants to fulfill others needs first and who came after being praised for his head game.”
He ducks his head to hide his face but not before I catch the blush. “Everyone likes a compliment.”
“Not everyone comes from one, though.”
He grumbles something unintelligible before relenting. “Alright, a praise kink makes sense. So I just need all my future partners to tell me ‘good job.’”
The words ‘future partners’ make me stiffen, my arms instinctively tightening around him as if one of those shadowy, hypothetical figures is going to snatch him from me.
With a deep breath, I force myself to relax.
This is a casual relationship, I remind myself.
It’s just hard to remember that when Alex is technically my husband.
“Did Theresa not tell you that enough?” Immediately, I regret the question.
I don’t want him comparing us in bed. “Don’t answer that. ”
Alex laughs. “I wasn’t going to. Not while I’m sober, at least.”
I remember him talking about it while he was drunk.
Not their sex life, of course, but how Theresa used to be more grateful for the things Alex did for her.
Or, maybe not more grateful, but more vocal in her gratitude.
But over time, her expectations rose higher and higher, until Alex struggled to meet them.
“What about the lingerie?” I ask, refocusing the conversation on us. “Did you like them?”
He hums in thought, then says, “They were fine. Kind of itchy. I definitely don’t want to wear them.”
“Yeah, they were a little rough on my balls. More expensive ones might be better, but they aren’t really my kink either.”
“What are your kinks?” he asks, one fingertip tracing the graphic on my T-shirt. “We spent the morning only focusing on mine.”
“Oh, we explored a few of mine,” I assure him, lips quirked in amusement. “Edging, orgasm control. I like to make my partners come, but I like it even more when they need it so much, they can’t think of anything but me.”
“Goal achieved,” Alex says, his voice so exhausted I believe him.
I chuckle, pleased to hear him admit it. “And what about the bondage? Did you like that?”
“It was hot,” he admits, “but also a little frustrating. Might need to try it again.”
The thought has arousal stirring awake inside me, but I know it’s too soon to act on it. At least, if I want Alex to be anything other than a limp noodle throughout it. “We can try both cuffs next time, see how you like that.”
“Next time,” he repeats and the uncertainty in his voice makes me tense.
Does he not want there to be a next time?
Before I can ask, Alex’s phone buzzes across the coffee table. “That’s probably the groceries,” he says, shifting up onto his elbows. “Or work telling me the power is on, so I have to go in after all.”
“They can do that?” If I’d known that was a possibility, I would have gone a little easier on him.
“Sometimes.” He picks it up and frowns.
Theresa’s name lights up the screen.
At least she didn’t interrupt us this time.
Alex rolls off of me and sits up, scooching to the other corner of the couch. By the time he answers the phone, he’s not touching me at all. “Hello?”
I can’t hear what she says, but Alex glances at me.
Then my own phone goes off, flashing with the name of Richard’s office.
I grab it and answer it with a brusque “Just a minute,” then gesture to Alex that I’m going to the other room.
The lawyers are probably calling for the same reason but we don’t need to be in an echo chamber.
Once the door is closed, I greet Richard properly. “This is Euan.”
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” he says.
It definitely could have been worse. “No, it’s fine. I assume this is about the annulment.”
“Yes. Ms. Ackers and I have drawn up some initial paperwork and would like to meet with you both to discuss our next steps. Since you’re returning home on Saturday, I think it would be prudent for all four of us to meet before then. What’s your availability?”
“I set my own schedule, so I’m fine with whatever Alex needs, but my flight leaves at seven on Saturday morning.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Once Ms. Ackers finishes her discussion with her client, we’ll review our calendars to find the best time for everyone. I’ll send the information to your email.”
“That works. Is there anything else?” I already don’t have much time to spend with Alex, I don’t want to waste any more on this phone call.
“Not on my end.” He pauses, then asks, “Do you have anything else to tell me?”
I open my mouth to tell him no, but what comes out is, “It doesn’t matter if we ‘consummate’ the marriage, right?”
The pause is longer this time. “Well, some judges will delay proceedings until a pregnancy is confirmed or until the child is born, but that’s not an issue during same-sex marriage.
You aren’t required to share those details with the court and it’s always best practice not to share more information than necessary. ”
In other words: keep your mouth shut.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll send the meeting time to your email. You have my number if you need anything else.”
When I leave the room, Alex is still talking on the phone, but it doesn’t sound like he’s speaking with Theresa.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I know it’s an …
unusual situation, and I haven’t exactly shared the details—” he stops while the other person speaks.
“Thank you, I really appreciate your flexibility.” After a few more pleasantries, he hangs up and notices me in the hallway.
“That was my boss. Theresa thinks Friday afternoon would be the best time for a meeting with everyone. Does that work for you?”
“That’s fine.” I start toward the couch, but then there’s a knock on the door.
“Oh! The groceries!” Alex hops up to meet the delivery person. The languid, relaxed version of him is gone. He chatters about what he bought as he brings the bags into the kitchen. When he opens up the fridge to put them away, he swears. “Shit, I should have cleaned this out first.”
Our lazy morning of basking in the afterglow is officially over.
I grab a garbage bag and help Alex rearrange the fridge. I would have liked to cuddle on the couch for a while longer, but it’s not so bad, working together like this.
Like a real couple.
Alex’s mouth twists to the side as he examines the simmering pot on the stove.
Red irritation still stains his cheeks and chin from my beard but the swelling on his lips has gone down, the evidence of intimacy slowly disappearing.
It makes me want to snatch him up and kiss him until he’s breathless and dazed and permanently wearing my marks.
He stirs the pot, then scoops up a spoonful, pursing his lips as he blows on it gently. Deeming it cool enough, he slips the spoon between his lips and licks the whole thing clean. I can’t help but compare it to the way he licked my cock in long, savoring strokes.
“I think it’s ready,” he says.
I stand up, heading toward the cabinets where the plates are, but Alex shoos me away.
“Go sit down, I’ll handle it.”
Lips quirked in amusement, I sit at what has unofficially become ‘my spot’ at the table and wait for him to join me.
A few minutes later, he sets a shallow, wide bowl in front of me filled with rice and reddish-brown curry.
Then he sits down, eyes locked on me. Though he’s clenching his spoon in one hand, he doesn’t move to take a single bite.
I mix everything together, then scoop up a big spoonful into my mouth.
Spices, chicken, peanut butter, tender vegetables, perfectly cooked rice all blend into a warm, filling meal.
I’m halfway through my first bowl before I realize I’m clutching it, shoveling it into my mouth like a ravenous beast. A little embarrassed, I set the bowl down and glance at Alex.
The grin spread across his face is bright enough to rival the sun. “I guess that answers whether or not you like it.”
“It’s delicious.”
His eyes remain crinkled as he begins eating, chatting between bites about where he found the recipe, what alterations he made to it.
“So it’s not the first time you made it,” I observe as I get up to grab a second helping.
Alex’s smile dims. “Oh, I used to make it all the time, but Theresa didn’t like it.”
“And because she didn’t like it, you stopped?”
Eyes downcast, he pushes his curry around in the bowl without eating.
“It’s not like I couldn’t eat foods she didn’t like.
It just makes a big batch, y’know? I could only cut it down so much, and I’d still have meals prepped for a week.
But then Theresa and I would have dinner together, and it’d go to waste …
I froze it a few times, but it always seemed to sit at the back of the freezer, forgotten.
Before I knew it, I stopped cooking it.”
How many other habits gradually changed while he was dating her? “Well, I’m glad you made it for me.”
The smile returns, tentatively at first, and then more genuinely as I finish off the second bowl and grab a third helping.
After dinner, we both collapse on the couch. “I ate too much,” Alex complains, head on my lap, hands clasped over his stomach.
I chuckle and run my fingers through his hair, playing with the curls. “You certainly didn’t have to worry about leftovers today.”
“Yeah, you barely left me any for lunch tomorrow,” he replies with a slight pout. “Guess I’ll have to make a bigger batch next time.”
My hand stills at the words ‘next time.’ It’s the first time he hasn’t questioned that we’ll spend time together in the future. To cover my surprise, I reach for the remote to turn the TV on and pick the first movie I see.
After it starts, I return my hand to Alex’s hair, petting him gently. He makes a content noise and snuggles against me, his eyes drifting shut.
Don’t get too attached to the guy, Calder warned me.
Too late.