Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Lydia stares at me. Brows drawn, lips pursed, trying and failing to settle on irritation or overwhelm. It’s the same look she gets every year during tax season, always in the home stretch after we’ve gone over receipts, deductions, and depreciation of assets. She is a really talented employer, manager, and business owner. But she doesn’t trust herself when it comes to numbers. Even mind-blowing ones like this.
And she’s smart to be cautious. I had to read through the details three times before I decided the offer was legit.
Honestly, I wish I’d had the chance to go running before processing this. I would’ve liked to clear my head, sort out everything already knocking around my brain about last night and this morning. How she let me use a vibrator on her and I literally made her scream. And then she blew both my cock and my mind—before running away to spit in the sink like I’d shot her mouth full of poison. Not the finale I might’ve hoped for, but I didn’t care because everything up to that point was amazing. For the first time in ages, it felt like we’d truly connected.
Right up until she went running back to work.
But even if I’d run twenty miles this morning, I doubt it could’ve prepared me for this purchase offer with its pile of cash .
Well, it’s her money, not mine. But I can’t help feeling like it’s an opportunity for both of us.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I hop up to sit on the counter, trying hard to conceal the enthusiasm bubbling in my core. “It’s a good offer on paper. But obviously there are a lot of details to consider.”
She seems almost surprised. “So . . . you think I should take it?”
I level my gaze with hers. “I would never tell you what to do with the Pooches.”
“I know that.” She straightens. “But I’m interested in your opinion.”
“Okay. Then my opinion is you should sit down and have a discussion with these guys.”
She flashes me a look, clearly challenging my casual use of the word “guys.” Lydia’s worked her ass off to prove herself as a female business owner, and people acting surprised she isn’t male rankles her every time. Which is part of the reason I said it.
I bite back a smile as she narrows her eyes. And for a second, everything almost feels right.
Now, despite myself, I’m antsy to touch her again. The expression on her face, coupled with the fact that I know she is fully naked under that robe is making it hard to focus.
I clear my throat. “There’s a lot you could do with that amount of money.”
“Yes. But there are factors to consider besides just the offer amount,” she says abruptly.
“Well, yeah, of course.” I know Lydia will have the best interests of her companies and employees at heart, but that can all be built into negotiations. I’m not a lawyer, but I read over every line of the contract and her profit and loss statements, and it’s a good initial offer. As it stands, she’ll make more from this deal than she would just owning the businesses over the next ten years.
But I’ll admit I’m having a hard time seeing past my own fantasies at the moment. A bunch of dreams I thought I’d let go of have drifted back to the surface. We could go on a second honeymoon—or a first one, really, since we skipped ours seven years ago to save up for the house. A trip of any kind would be nice, just some time to reconnect. Maybe we could start with the hot springs, then Europe. Bring along her new pink toy and keep up what we’ve started. I never thought she’d really “work on” sex, but she’s proven me way wrong. Maybe we’ll keep getting better at it.
The options seem limitless as soon as Lydia has time for us . And I can’t see a better opportunity than this.
“I have my employees to think about,” she says, and I simmer in a moment of irritation, because she never seems to put as much value on us as them. Tomás is a good guy. He could stay on with a new owner and probably get a nice raise. I’m not sure what new drama is going on with Scarlet. She’s more trouble than Lydia’s willing to admit, but she’s got a good gig and she knows it. The rest will figure things out for themselves.
“Okay, sure. What else?” I ask, trying to play devil’s advocate.
She sinks to one of the chairs across from me, resting her head in her hands. Her robe parts, exposing her naked thighs, and I am dying to push it up the rest of the way.
“I just—I don’t—” She stops and presses her lips together.
Something softens in my chest hearing her confidence waver.
“Hey,” I say, hopping to the floor. “Maybe we need to back up and appreciate how huge this offer even is for someone who opened her first business with a zero percent offer on a credit card.” I smile, reminding us both of the early days of Ooh La Pooch. I gesture to the offer on the laptop screen. “ Look what you’ve achieved, Lydia. Most businesses fail within five years—this is unimaginable success.”
She blinks at me, her eyes shining a little.
I sink down in front of her and take her hand. “I know this is a huge decision, but I’ll be right here with you. Once it’s done, you can regroup, take some time to focus on things you haven’t had time for. Maybe you could even open another business down the road. Whatever you want to do, I just want you to know I’m proud, and I support you.”
“Anton, I—” She looks down at our joined hands, and a tear tracks down her cheek. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means.”
I give her fingers a gentle squeeze, and my heart nudges open just a little more. When she raises her head, we share a shy smile, and by the color of her cheeks I’m sure we’re both thinking about how we spent the last twelve hours. A vivid future unfurls in my imagination, one I could never have fathomed a couple of weeks ago. Where we actually play together on the same team, like a real married couple—maybe even as a family. Something stirs deep within me and I lose myself in the possibilities as we lean toward each other, our lips meeting in a slow, hopeful kiss.
“I’ve already decided,” she whispers against my cheek. “I’m going to turn it down.”
I open my eyes, so lost in the vanilla scent of her hair, I must have misheard what she said. “Huh?”
“I’m not going to sell.” She pulls back to look at me, a bold glint in her eye. “Like you said, I’ve achieved so much. I’m not ready to stop.”
I flounder, trying to take my next breath. “I uh—that’s not actually what I was suggesting.”
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“Accepting this offer—selling the Pooches—could change your whole life. Our life.”
“Well, yeah, obviously. But so could turning it down.” A smile plays at her lips. “You just reaffirmed to me—I am already successful, and can continue to be. I guess I’ve just been so overwhelmed opening Pooch Park II, I couldn’t see my own potential until someone else was interested.”
“Come again?” I ask, struggling to follow.
“Why let ABizCorp take the Pooches to the next level when I can do it myself? I could add boarding or pet sitting to the daycare if I figure out the logistics and insurance. And I’ve been wanting to add a mobile service to Ooh La Pooch—oh! Actually, I might even be able to offer obedience training!” She turns to her laptop and starts typing up notes.
I clench my jaw, watching her work with an enthusiasm she never seems to have for anything else.
“That all sounds nice.” My voice comes out hollow. “But who’s going to run it?”
Her brows draw together as she types. “I will?”
“And when Scarlet hurts her back? Or Tomás takes a vacation?” I get to my feet. “What do you do when they’re both off, then the new mobile groomer and the dog trainer call out sick?”
“I—I would?—”
“ You would fill in. Do it all. Except you can’t.” My lip curls. “Lydia, I love you, and I believe you can do anything. But you can’t do everything.”
She stops typing to stare at me. “I don’t understand. I thought you just told me to go for it? You just applauded my ‘unimaginable success.’”
I rake my hand through my hair. “Look, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but quit while you’re ahead. Offers like this don’t come along every day.”
She stiffens. “I misunderstood. I thought you said you’d support me.”
“I do ,” I say, grabbing her hand. “I support you taking care of yourself, doing what’s best for you.” I look into her eyes, desperate for her to hear me. “But you have to see there’s more to lose here than potential growth.”
She tilts her head, clearly not following. “I’m currently in the black, even with all the second location startup costs.”
“ Lydia .” I wait for her to look at me, though she flinches when our gazes meet. “The Pooches may be in the black, but our marriage is in the red.”
Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak. I let go of her hand. Heartthrob wanders sleepily into the kitchen, probably trying to figure out why our voices are raised. I hate that I had to put it like that, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m not about to get back on Unmatched. I’ve had enough of that. But does she really expect me to stand by and clap while she puts a hundred and ten percent into everything but us?
“Is this about sex?” Her voice is cool as she rises to her feet.
The back of my throat burns. “This is about you and me .”
“Really?” She exhales. “Because lately it seems like you’re only interested in one thing.”
My body goes hot. I set my jaw, pushing words out through my teeth. “And what is that?”
“Come on, Anton,” she says, her tone suddenly less certain. “I’ve always thought we had something special, something bigger than most marriages. We’ve been together so long, it’s like we’re not just husband and wife. We’re best friends.”
“Best friends,” I say dryly.
She looks at me with a small smile, and my stomach sours.
“Lydia, we’re married. If you want to live with a ‘best friend,’ go get yourself a roommate, not a husband.”
I push past her for the coffeepot, refilling my mug to have an excuse to look away. She moves aside, face bright red as she pulls her robe chastely closed. “Maybe you’re forgetting what we did last night? And this morning?”
“Forgive me if I don’t get super excited,” I say, a void opening in my chest, “that my wife finally forced herself to touch me for the first time in months.”
“See? This is what I mean,” she hisses. “Everything is just about sex. It’s like I’m never enough for you!”
“Wrong,” I growl. “You. Are. Everything. I want you . But I don’t think you see how out of balance everything is. It’s not just sex. You put all you have into work, and there’s nothing left. We barely see each other. We don’t go anywhere or do anything together. Even when you’re around, it’s like you aren’t there. And now you want to add to that?”
“Look, I know I’ve been busy, but most of that has been because of the new?—”
“Oh yes, the new location. Everything will be better once it opens.” I scowl. “Until you start up the next one. And the next.”
“I’ll take a break in between.” She has the humility to blush. “Anyway, things will smooth out soon, and then I’ll have more time for...everything.”
My lip curls. “Sorry, I’m not super interested in waiting around until you have time for me.”
“What—that’s not what I meant!”
I pick up Heartthrob’s food dish because he’s staring at me like there should be less talking and more attention to him, and I definitely agree. Lydia just stands there, fists balled at her sides, watching me feed the dog from where she sits in the hole she’s dug.
“You know, I’m not the only one who isn’t perfect here,” she finally sputters. “If you were so miserable, you could’ve said something. But you didn’t. You decided to cheat.”
I close my eyes, pressing my mouth into a line. “I guess it seemed reasonable since you’ve been having an affair with your job for years.”
“You never said you were unhappy! How am I supposed to know how you feel if you never tell me? You’re impossible to read.”
“You want it spelled out?”
“Actually, yes,” she says. “Because I have been making an effort. I bought us a sex toy—which we used— I gave you a pretty excellent blowjob. But then you got all moody and tried to leave without even saying anything!”
My throat tightens. An image of her flashes through my mind, lips wrapped around my cock. Then another of her running to answer the phone like she couldn’t change gears fast enough. I pick up my keys.
“Kind of like you’re doing right now,” she says.
“Look, Lydia,” I say, trying to sound more firm than defeated. “I love you—I always have, and I always will. But if nothing’s going to change, I don’t think either of us will be happy.”
She’s quiet for a minute, then lets out a low breath. “And the only solution is for me to sell my businesses? So I can, what, lie around all day waiting to have sex with you?”
I level my gaze at her, unwilling to even grant that an answer.
“Wow. This is not where I thought we’d end up,” she says, and her trembling voice forces an uncomfortable lump into the back of my throat. “I’ve never imagined us not together. After Pooch Park II opened, I thought we might even talk about starting a family...”
My chest burns. I don’t bother pointing out that you need to have sex to make a baby, that children don’t raise themselves.
Her frown deepens.
I sigh, dumping the rest of my coffee in the sink. “Look, I want you to be happy, Mrs.—” I stop, unable to call her by the nickname I’ve used for seven years. “But I need to be happy too.”
“The Pooches do make me happy. I can’t give that up.”
For you.
She doesn’t say these last two words, but the room fills with them.
I don’t answer. I’m tired of feeling hurt, and I don’t want to hurt her more.
I move for the door, forcing my brain to focus on “next steps” to try and escape this moment. I’ll make an appointment with the lawyer, look for an apartment. I might need to take some time off work to move. Maybe I’ll even talk to Carl about working remotely and long-term travel. I love Denver, but a fresh start might be for the best. A new city.
Or maybe I should just go home to Dallas.
Faintly, as I think of this, over the sounds of our dully beating hearts and gloomy breaths, a melody makes its way to my ears. It takes almost half a minute for me to fully grasp the notes cutting through the air. The ringer on someone’s phone. Not Lydia’s for once, though. Mine.