18. Getting To You
GETTING TO YOU
What a great way to fuck that up.
Fletcher stalked to her bathroom, took care of the condom, then dressed quickly, yanking his clothes on with more force than necessary, grabbing his gun off the dresser and returning to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. It was a trigger.”
She turned to look at him.
Her eyes were glassy, but she was holding it together.
Better than he was by the looks of it.
“I figured. Uncharted territory for us both. Sit, eat. We can talk.”
“We should. We need to.”
“I’ll start. I’m feeling more... exposed in my life right now. Before all this stuff happened, there I am, my eyes searching for you when I walk in the building.”
“What?”
“Come on, Fletcher. You’re smart. We know it. Don’t be that way. I told you I was opening up with you and don’t make me regret it now that it’s all there.”
Shit, he couldn’t do that to her. Not after what they’d just shared.
Not looking at the vulnerability in her eyes.
“I don’t want to sound cocky,” he said, dipping his head down and looking at the food spread out.
“Help yourself. Maybe if you’re doing something with your hands and your mouth you’ll be freer with your words. Like last night in the deli.”
She wasn’t wrong.
He reached for the quiche in front of him and took a slice, then put a few pancakes and strips of bacon on his plate.
It was all still warm, telling him she’d had it waiting for him before he even got here rather than spread out like now.
Maybe she worried that he’d say no.
That he didn’t want to be left alone with her.
The smart thing would have been to do that.
He thought he stopped being stupid years ago, but guess not.
“It was a lot more relaxing, I’ll give you that.”
“I can have that effect on people. Or so I’ve always been told.”
“I see it.”
In the way she carried herself.
The bright, welcoming smile that was always present. Even for him.
Even when he barely said a word or did no more than nod.
She’d been pulling pieces of him out for months and rather than walk away with the little she got, she kept going back for more.
Opening up, like she’d said.
He deserved to give her the same.
“Last night, you opened up and then I stumbled and thought you were lying,” she said.
“I’d be a real dick to lie about that.”
“I thought that. But then I asked myself why you were telling me so much when you barely could say hi prior.”
“And what did you come up with?” he asked around a mouthful.
“That I’m getting to you. That maybe you’re thinking of me slightly the same way I’m thinking of you.”
“I’d think what we just did in your bedroom confirms that.”
She laughed. “Yeah. But I’m still moving on thin ice and my skates are pretty sharp. I’m afraid of the ice breaking and me dropping in.”
“Cooling off or drowning?” He looked up into her bright blue eyes. “I wouldn’t let you drown.”
She nodded and blew out a breath. “I know. So I pushed a few more buttons. To push my luck. Because there you were last night, trying to ease me. Trying to take my mind off of why you’re with me. Because you’re not with me the way I wanted you to be and that was only all the more frustrating.”
“You haven’t made any move to say you wanted more,” he said.
She put her fork down, folded her hands in front of her, almost bracing herself with the stare aimed his way.
“Really, Fletcher? Did I need to strip for you to understand what I wanted? Talking to you when few others do, or flirting wasn’t enough?
Am I that bad at it? Maybe it’s just been so long I forgot, but I don’t think it’s that. I don’t think you’re blind either.”
“No.”
“What I think is that you’re afraid.”
“Don’t push that button,” he said, his voice clipped.
It was too close to the truth.
“I’m going to. Because light and casual doesn’t seem to get my point across. I’m laying it out there about how I feel. And what I’m going through.”
“I did last night and you didn’t believe me,” he countered.
“You’re right. I didn’t. And I told you why and I’ll apologize again.”
“It’s fine.”
“If it was fine, you wouldn’t have just gotten snippy with me over a simple question.
If it was fine, you wouldn’t have reared up as if I poked a finger in your ass.
” Her voice was rising. “If it was fine, you wouldn’t have made me feel like the wonderful thing we just experienced was cheap because your reflex told you it might be. ”
He moved back from his plate and crossed his arms.
Everything she was saying was on target.
He was at least man enough to admit it.
“Fine. You’re right. All of it. Not the part about being afraid. It’s a trigger that I didn’t see something.”
“You saw it. You chose to ignore it. Don’t lie to me. Or don’t lie to yourself.”
His tongue came between his teeth. “Right again. I noticed the change in Lorraine. I noticed Ian was mentioning it. I’d bring it up. I’d ask what was wrong.”
“And her answer?”
“Was always the same. My job. I’m never home. She can’t wait until I retire. That she’s just out with friends or coworkers because she was lonely.”
“She had a kid at home.”
“No shit,” he said. “You think that doesn’t eat at me also? You think I haven’t worked my ass off trying to get my son to not hate me for his life changing so much? Or so often. Every time we moved, he had to start over with friends. He’s already a little awkward and struggles with it.”
Which he hated to say just now.
Especially since Ian seemed to come into his own more.
And the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize any of that.
So him having a relationship, having someone else in his life taking time away—would Ian resent that?
“I’m sorry. We are getting off track.”
“No, we aren’t. It’s all part of it.”
“Then let me rein it in,” she said. “What I said was about me being vulnerable. And admitting this is doing the same. I’m not afraid to do it with you when I’ve been terrified of doing it with others for years.”
Which said more than words ever could.
“I don’t want you to be.”
“You’re making it hard.” She picked her fork up and stabbed her quiche, then shoved it in her mouth and chewed.
“I don’t want that either. I’m sorry I reacted. I told you, it’s a trigger. No, I wasn’t blind. But I turned my head because you’re right. Her excuses made sense. And maybe I was sick and tired of hearing them again and again when the solution was coming.”
“Didn’t seem to make a difference, though did it?”
“No. And to think she’s just out there having sex, and when I come home, she’s too tired for it. Or she’s pissed off. No one wants sex when they feel as if it’s being forced on them or an obligation.”
“Nope,” she said.
“So she’s out getting it from men on her terms. No attachments, she said. It wasn’t about that. It was about feeling wanted. That it started with a coworker flirting with her ten years ago.”
“Ten years?”
“Yeah, so like six years of our marriage. We were in Virginia. She’s getting attention I wasn’t giving to her. The guy was married. He said that he had an open marriage and in her mind, she thought, hell, I don’t have to worry about jealousy.”
“Guess it didn’t bother her he was sleeping with someone else.”
“Nope. So that’s how it started. And then it seems to me, that is what she told other men. Open marriage, if it even came up, never talked about me, but was clear that I was good with it.”
“I’m assuming they had no idea what you did for a living?”
“No. They didn’t know me or her prior. She was smart enough to cover her bases. Her words, she didn’t do it often. Maybe two people a year, nothing longer than a month.”
“Jesus. That’s a lot.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Why did she have to say that? Why bring it up once she was caught? Did she want to stay married?”
“No. She absolutely didn’t want to. This time, she was with someone she was developing feelings for. He was too. In her mind, maybe she could have what she always wanted.”
“Was he going home to someone else too?” she asked.
“Yep. I can’t explain her logic. So she wanted me to catch her and I did.
She knew what my reaction would be. She knew I wouldn’t tolerate that shit.
I moved out. But Ian was upset and I think she thought I might change my mind and give her a chance when things didn’t go the way she wanted with the other guy. ”
“So she decided to let you know everything?” Paris shook her head. “Sorry, that’s a bitchy move.”
“I’d rather know the truth. I wasn’t coming back though. And that just made the divorce faster.”
“That’s who she married?” she said.
He laughed. A dry, bitter sound. “Nope. The guy decided to go back to his wife and admitted he was the one who never wanted an open marriage, so his wife agreed to stop on her end.”
“Good. She got what was coming to her.”
“I don’t think she cared. She met Zach months later. He’s a political consultant and she was happy here. Going out and getting attention, loving life.”
“You said she moved?”
“She did. Last year. Not happy so much about that by the sounds of it. And now husband number two is on the road more, so good luck there.”
He’d actually laughed when Ian told him. Not that he meant to, but couldn’t hold it back.
Though Ian rarely saw his mother now, they did talk. He wanted them to have some kind of relationship.
“Not your problem. I’m assuming that is when Ian moved in with you full time?”
“Yes. He was splitting his time and didn’t want to move. He’d been through enough. I was still at the Bureau, but not out of town as much, then I get a call from West.”
“He called you personally?”
Fletcher went back to eating. “Yes. I hadn’t figured out how he got my number. I was running the organized crime division.”
“Which would have appealed to him with your knowledge of business and security.”
“That’s what he said. He needed someone with my experience. With my connections. It’s almost as if the timing couldn’t have been better knowing that Lorraine was moving shortly.”
Did he think West had looked into his personal life?
He wouldn’t put it past the guy, but he’d never asked. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
Not when the job helped mend the relationship with his son.
“So that is why you retired? Because of West’s offer?”
“He made it so I couldn’t refuse.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like sitting in an office and checking out businesses that he wants to buy? Looking for dirt, increasing security and personnel on his building and for his family? Sure, it’s a blast a minute.”
She burst out laughing. “You’re bored, aren’t you?”
“I’d never say that to West.”
“And you didn’t say it to me. You’re probably not bored as much as you just need more action.”
“Seems I’m getting it now,” he mumbled. “As long as I didn’t fuck up too much. And if I did, we can just move on like this morning didn’t happen.”
She blew out a massive breath. “Is that what you want?”
“Does it matter what I want? I’ve got a job to do either way. One isn’t going to interfere with the other. That was going to be my conversation.”
“Well then. I said my piece. You say yours. Then we’ll decide what happens moving forward.”
He wasn’t sure why it felt as if a gauntlet was just slammed between their plates.