10. Amias
TEN
AMIAS
I almost kissed her. I wanted to.
I was losing my mind. There was no other explanation for it.
"Maybe you've always been a little attracted to her and since she's not your type, you've been hostile," Hayes suggested when we met for a drink at the City Bar in Back Bay, and I told him that I almost kissed Nolan's kid sister.
"Bullshit."
"Okay. Explain your animosity toward her."
I shrugged, taking a sip of Scotch. "I can't."
Had I always been attracted to Naya? Did I watch her while she watched me? Did I hide how flattered I was by her attention with nonchalance and cruelty? Was I no better than Ann?
"And I think Ann notices," Hayes continued.
"What the fuck?"
"Yep. Why else do her claws come out whenever Naya is around?"
None of this made sense, especially how I was feeling about Naya.
"Do you think I'm so fucking shallow that I saw her that day in workout gear and finally admitted my attraction to her?" I wondered aloud.
"Yeah, you are that shallow," Hayes said seriously.
"With friends like you…." I flipped him a finger.
"Okay, tell me what do you like best about Ann?"
"I like how self-assured she is and how she carries herself. I like how good she is in bed. I like…what? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Hayes rolled his eyes and groaned.
"You like how she looks on your arm. You always liked it when people said, Ann's hot. At MIT you liked how everyone wanted to get into her pants and she was yours. You liked that she was from your social circle and when you took her home, your parents were fine with her. Unlike what happened to?—"
"Leander."
My older brother had married his high school sweetheart, a girl from the wrong-side of the tracks.
Thanks to how my family treated Phoebe, the marriage didn't last. Now Phoebe was happily married, and Leander saw his twin boys a weekend or so every few months.
He was now married to a woman my parents did like.
Calista was the daughter of one of my father's friends, a former Senator.
They had a daughter who was now nine and a son who was eleven.
We weren't a family that spilled our guts to each other but once when Leander was drunk he told me how he still missed Phoebe and that she'd been the love of his life. He hated that he hardly saw his kids with her and that they were closer to Phoebe's new husband who treated them like his own.
"Why can't you see them more often if you miss them?" I asked.
"Calista will throw a fit. Apparently, I'm supposed to focus on our children. And in any case the twins are in university now and the times I've tried to reach out…they've been polite but it's obvious there is no relationship."
I didn't want to be in his predicament. I could fall in love with a girl that my parents would accept and avoid all the drama.
Ann was best-suited for that despite the fact that we seemed to be off again more often than on again in the past decade and a half that we'd been doing our relationship dance.
We first dated in junior year at MIT and broke up after we graduated.
Then we got together a few years later and broke up after six months.
In between Ann, I didn't have any long-term relationships. I had more one-night stands than dates and I'd been fine with that. Fuck them and forget them. And the women I was with wanted that exact same thing.
Ann and I were fuck buddies. Exes who scratched an itch if we were in the mood and we weren't in a relationship.
One such fuck-buddy session turned into two and then three, and we were once again in a relationship. Ann was different this time. She wanted it to last, she'd told me, and she was making the effort.
Whenever we broke up in the past, it had been because I didn't have time for her, and she threw tantrums. That led to arguments and finally there would be one fight that crossed the line, and we'd break up.
This time, Ann was putting up with my work and personal calendar without complaining.
I had been clear with her that a relationship could not mean dragging me to parties and events I didn't want to go to.
I would not change how I lived my life, and I didn't expect her to change hers.
She'd readily agreed and so far had kept to the bargain.
She didn't pout when I was traveling for a week and came back to spend a weekend whitewater rafting.
"I want us to support each other, be partners—not fight all the time. I can't do it anymore, Ann."
"No fighting. I promise, Amias. This time I'll make the compromises."
"Ann, I don't want you to compromise. I want us to have a partnership where we're equally invested in a relationship without losing who we are as individuals."
"I understand. I won't ask you to become someone else like I used to. I promise. I'm going to make you happy. You won't regret it."
For the first time since we began dating, there had been absolutely no fights.
After years of battling, it out with Ann, I usually just said my piece and then went my way. That pissed her off because she wanted a big shouting match, which I detested. Now, she was solicitous and didn't try to goad me into an argument.
She was needy, sure, but compared to how she used to be this was a walk in the park. For that, I could tolerate the where are you messages and her wanting to stay the night more often than I was comfortable with. It was a small price to pay for what I got in return, I'd decided.
My relationship with Ann was exactly the way I wanted it. Then why the hell did I want to break up with her?
"Leander has a fucked up life." Hayes picked up an olive and bit into it. "How's Isolde?"
My sister, the middle child, had married into a real estate family and seemed fairly content with her life.
Her husband was an obnoxious prick, but she didn't seem to mind.
She had three kids, two nannies and a new very expensive bauble every time I saw her.
I could guarantee her husband was fucking around.
I doubt she'd care if she knew, or she already did and didn't give a shit.
"You know Isolde, she makes anything work."
"And she likes her diamonds."
I let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, she does."
"Like Ann?"
"Ann is nothing like Isolde. Ann is not a stay-at-home mom…or a mom?" Hayes pointed out.
"She wants us to get engaged. My parents rented a chalet in Switzerland for Christmas and she's hoping I'll do it there."
"She's been dropping hints?"
I shook my head. "No, man, she balls out told me she wants to get engaged and move in with me."
"How do you feel about that?"
"Not comfortable."
"Because?"
Because I was spending way too much time thinking and worrying about Naya. She'd been working at my company for three years now and it was these past weeks that I'd really started to know her. I liked her. I admired her. I had tremendous respect for her.
"Baggage from the past," I white-lied smoothly.
"Speaking of past, you heard from Jackson? He's visiting from Paris for the holidays."
Jackson was another friend of ours from MIT who now lived in Paris and was the CEO of a solar power company. His wife was French, and he was one of the few people I knew who was happily married.
"Yeah. You coming for his lunch at The Langham?"
"Eh probably," Hayes said noncommittally.
He always kept his plans loose because he was likely to change his mind at the last minute.
Hayes was one of the few people I knew who when it came to his personal life didn't let society dictate anything.
He only did what he felt like in the moment and didn't care what anyone thought. I sometimes wished I was more like him.
My phone beeped, and I sighed when I saw the message from Ann: When are you home? I'm waiting.
So much for doing my thing.
"I gotta go."
"You look like a man being led to prison," Hayes mocked.
"I love Ann, Hayes."
"You sure about that?" Hayes leaned back on his chair. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I think it's easy with Ann. I don't think you love her. I don't think you even like her."
"Don't tell me how I feel."
I pulled out my wallet and Hayes shook his head. "I got this. I'm going to get another drink before I head home."
Hayes didn't believe in relationships, not like I did.
He dated, sure, but discreetly and had never been in a relationship that lasted more than six months.
He was a good-looking black man, smart as hell, and a charming mother-fucker, so it wasn't like he lacked opportunity.
He just wasn't interested. He liked his life, he always said, and didn't want to explain himself to anyone.
Right now, I wished I was single too because I didn't want to go to my place where Ann was waiting.
Since Thanksgiving, she was in my apartment often.
I knew it was her way to show me the inevitability of her moving in.
I was desperate for a few nights on my own.
I'd tried to tell her, and she'd first ignored me and then cried. Ann was a crier and used her tears to manipulate me, most of the time successfully. She told me she’d been hurt that I didn't want to spend time with her.
The sleet was coming down hard and I hoped Naya made it safely to her place.
I texted her: I hope you got home before the weather got too bad.
Her reply came five minutes later: Yes, thank you.
That was that. But I apparently wanted to continue the conversion for some perverse reason: I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at work.
Naya: When?
Me: When I touched you?
It took her longer to reply this time: Think nothing of it. Have a good evening.
She was shutting me down, and I wasn't going to let her.
Me: It didn't make you uncomfortable?
Naya: It was fine.
Me: You won't mind if I do it again?
I was almost home when ten minutes later she replied: I don't know. Goodnight.
Just reading her message made me hard. What the fuck was wrong with me? I had an-almost fiancée, and I was lusting after my friend's mousy sister, one who used to have a crush on me…maybe still did. I shouldn't encourage her. I'd end up hurting her.
"But you want her, don't you?" mocked the stupid voice in my head belonging to the asshole with the horns.
"I'm almost engaged," countered the smarter voice in my head, the voice of reason, the one with a fucking halo.
"What's that got to do with your dick?" commented horny asshole.
"Keep it in your pants, Romeo. Naya is off-limits," warned the dude with a halo.
"Why? She's of age. She's got a hot bod. And she already idolizes me." Horny asshole licked his lips lecherously.
"You love Ann," dude with the halo persisted.
"You don't even like her," Horny Asshole chuckled.
"She's an excellent fuck," Halo Dude protested.
"Mr. Westbrook?" My driver’s voice rose above the noise in my head, and I noticed he'd opened my door and was waiting for me to get the fuck out of the car.
"Thanks. Tomorrow, let's make it at seven in the morning, yeah?"
"Okay, Mr. Westbrook."
I walked into my building, feeling more conflicted than I ever had before.