Chapter Forty-Three
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Seth looks sharp in a gray suit, his figure lean, standing straight and confident, and so much like his brother apart from the sandy hair that I nearly do a double-take. Bruno circles, meowing at his heels as Seth serves up his morning sardine. I smile. Sharon would be glad to know her beloved orange cat is being spoiled rotten.
“Anton went for a run,” he says, taking a mug from a cabinet when he sees me. He pours a generous cup of coffee and slides it across the faded yellow breakfast bar. I wrap my hands around it gratefully.
“I figured,” I say, though I’m secretly relieved by the confirmation. I woke up at seven, Anton’s presence all over me and the sheets, but he was nowhere to be found. He often works out early, but I wasn’t sure. Had he changed his mind after last night? Decided he wanted something different after all?
I ease onto a barstool, my body a little sore, but not in an unpleasant way. Just unfamiliar. Not so much like it’s recovering, but rather savoring a bit longer.
I sip the black brew, make a face, then search in the fridge for cream. “How was your night?”
A wistful smile plays across his lips. “Not bad for a weekday. Do you want details? I can remember the highlights, though names and faces might be a little fuzzy.”
I blink, caught off guard by his candor. Seth is an awesome brother-in-law, and despite what he’d have some people think, he truly is a decent person. But his open promiscuity has always made me blush. “You know, I think my imagination can fill in the blanks pretty well.”
He shrugs, his smile stretching into a grin. “Anyway, seems like you two had some fun of your own, right?”
My eyes widen, heat creeping into my cheeks. Can he read on my face what we did? Or did he hear us? I’m not sure what time he returned from his exploits, but the walls of this little house are paper thin. I stare into my mug, unable to meet his eyes. “Did Anton talk to you about it?”
“No. But my brother’s got-laid face is pretty different from the needs-to-be-fucked expression he’s been wearing all week.”
Oh my God. He is probably at least picturing what we did right now, and I might as well be standing here naked in their dying mother’s house. My face lights up with shame. I pour questionable-smelling milk into my coffee, taking a gulp when it doesn’t curdle. But if it was poison and I died on the spot, that might be okay.
“It’s good to see him happy,” Seth says more quietly. “Both of you. Mom always said you two were gonna last.”
This makes me pause. I remember Sharon saying that, often with a wink, before telling us some story about her one true love, Anton and Seth’s dad. I feel a little pang of guilt thinking about how close we’ve come to not lasting. Maybe in part because of my messed up feelings about having sex with my own husband.
I clear my throat. “I’m glad he seemed satisfied,” I say, then quickly make a bid to change the subject. “Bruno’s looking good.”
The cat glances up from his smelly fish breakfast and gives a hoarse meow before winding affectionately between our legs. Seth scoops him up and cradles him with zero regard for his expensive-looking suit. Bruno starts up his motor, resting his orange-and-white smudged chin on Seth’s shoulder. “Thanks. Gotta keep Old Salty fat and happy for Mom.”
His phone goes off in his pocket, and he takes the call, wandering out of the room with the cat just as Anton comes through the kitchen door.
My husband pauses on the threshold. He’s shirtless, absolutely dripping with sweat, and judging by his expression, was not expecting to see me.
“Good morning,” I say shyly.
“Morning.” He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, toweling off with the shirt tucked into his waistband. He doesn’t look unhappy, but he isn’t looking right at me either. I get the distinct impression he’s as lost for what else to say as I am.
I rise from my stool, realizing that actions might come more easily. But as I move closer to him, my confidence wavers. Last night, I’d had the “Classic Guide” to refer to, at least in my head. With its instructions on where to look, how to touch, and how to act. It was everything I needed. Now, I’m not sure. Do I touch him? Should I speak? After a moment, he sneaks a look at me like he’s thinking all the same things, and this is the push I need. I reach out tentatively, running my fingers over his heated skin. And it works. He closes the remaining space between us, warming the air around us with his body and filling my nose with a masculine, sweaty scent.
“Thought you’d sleep a little later,” he says, bringing his hands to my waist—only lightly, like he’s afraid to leave them there. In answer, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I—I wasn’t sure why you left.” I look down, feeling stupidly insecure. I guess because he’s pulled away when I thought things were better with us before.
“Just needed to run so I could think.” His fingers trace lightly under my shirt, along the bare skin at my waist, sending shivers through me.
“What did you think about?”
“Everything. Mom, the Pooches, us...” His voice and posture are so heavy. He twists a lock of my hair around one finger, then tugs lightly. “Although mostly my mind ran an X-rated loop of replays from last night.”
I raise my head and his eyes are dancing. I laugh, despite my burning cheeks, planting a kiss on his lips.
“I’d tell you two to get a room,” Seth says, coming back into the kitchen sans cat. “But I’m going to work, so the place is yours. Just don’t spill anything on the furniture.”
I pull away too quickly and too stiffly—embarrassed and ashamed for being embarrassed all at once. Anton frowns. But then he grabs my hand, clasping my fingers possessively. Reassuringly.
“Actually, I was thinking we should head back to Denver,” he says to Seth. “Lydia’s got some big stuff going on at work.”
He squeezes my hand again, and I look at him in surprise. His eyes are bright. There’s no resentment in his voice, but I’m not entirely sure how to interpret his expression. It’s sort of...anticipatory.
“Oh yeah?” Seth raises a brow. “What’s going on in Poochville?”
“Well...at first, it was going to be an acquisition,” I say, watching Anton carefully. “But now it looks like I’ve negotiated a partnership.”
“Really?” Seth raises both brows. “Will that complicate things with the new place opening?”
I shake my head, squeezing Anton’s fingers back, growing more confident as I think over my conversation with Henry. “Not at all. It should actually simplify some stuff. Make it easier to expand while taking a lot of the burden off me.”
Seth looks at his brother. “Can’t argue with that, I guess.”
“It’s a bold move.” Anton nods, looking similarly impressed. And inside me, it feels like something’s started to glow. “Lydia’s just proving her brilliance as a businesswoman once again.”
I hesitate. “What about Sharon, though? Do you need to stay here in case?—”
“Mom wouldn’t want that,” he says, though it seems like he’s choosing his words with care. “She was so proud of you. She’d want me to go with you and support you.”
Seth nods, looking resigned. “Anton’s right. I’ll call you guys if anything changes, but you can’t stay here forever.” He glances at the kitchen clock. “And on that note, I need to take off. Lock up when you leave, okay?”
He gives me a warm, brotherly hug, then forces Anton into an awkward one too.
And then it’s the two of us, alone again .
“Guess I’ll see what flights are available,” Anton says, taking out his phone.
I put my hand over his, forcing him to look up at me. “Are you really sure about this?”
I’m not talking about his mom anymore, or going to Denver. This is deeper, much bigger than anything the two of us have successfully handled.
“Yes.” He sets the phone down, focusing entirely on me. “If you are.”
I manage a nod, but I’m afraid to admit how scared I am. That I’ll go home and still get the balance wrong. That things will somehow go back to the way they were. That I’ll wake up one day and realize everything still fell apart.
As if he can read my mind, Anton looks at me and says, “We’ll work on it together.”
I don’t have words. Only the warm sensation spreading through my chest, so I just press my lips to his.
“Going from sole proprietor to a partnership is a big sacrifice,” he says, looking at me warily.
“It is,” I say. “But I think it will be good for me on a lot of levels. You were right, I can’t do everything myself. It was hard to admit that. But I want things that can’t all exist together without a little flexibility.”
“What do you want?” he says, moving closer.
“I want to run and grow the Pooches, but...I also want space to breathe. To exist outside of the businesses. I want to find some stability, more time to do things other than work, and maybe...maybe think more seriously about whether we should start a family.” I trace the line of his collarbone with my fingers. “But most importantly, along with all of that, I want you. Our marriage. I’ve neglected it. And I want to work at least as hard at building it back up as I do on the Pooches.”
“I want all of this too.” He pushes my hair back, then glides his hands down my front and gives my breasts a playful squeeze. “Well, and these.”
I laugh, shoving him playfully away until he comes in with a repentant kiss.
“I’m not going to deny sex is a need for me,” he says more soberly. “ But if I’ve learned anything the last month or so, it’s that I don’t just want sex. I want sex with you , my wife. Lydia, you are the most important person in my world.”
I look down. “I’ll try to get better at it. I want to keep learning.”
He catches my chin, giving me a reassuring look, which morphs into a lustful grin. “Happy to help you practice.”
I giggle, but there’s an uneasiness balling up in my stomach, which ends the moment a little too soon. “I’m just worried—I might still mess up sometimes.”
He presses his mouth into a line. “I probably will too.”
Neither of us says anything more for several minutes. I lean into his chest, pressing my cheek against his flesh, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His arms come up, around me, holding me close. Secure.
“Seth suggested—” Anton says abruptly. “Maybe we should see someone.”
I take a moment, letting that sink in. Caprice had encouraged the same thing. “Like a sex therapist? I guess we could.”
“I don’t know.” He grunts. “What does someone like that even do?”
I glance up at him. “Hopefully not watch us have sex.”
His eyes flash briefly with a very dirty look, but then his expression softens. “Do you think talking to someone would be helpful?”
“Maybe, for me,” I say slowly. I can’t argue that advice from a professional might go further than some sex guide I found on the internet. “I’m still trying to figure a few things out.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Then let’s do it.”
I turn in his arms, and our lips come together, softly, sweetly, hopefully. For the first time, maybe in our whole marriage, rather than acting like adversaries when we touch, it just feels...intimate.
“I should probably shower before I get on a plane,” he says, indicating the salty sheen of sweat now dry on his skin. “I forgot what it’s like to run in eighty percent humidity.”
Reluctantly, I let go of him and nod, taking a step toward the bedroom. “I’m going to pack—um, but maybe I’ll put the rabbit in a checked bag.”
“Wait.” He seizes my hand, and when I look back, there’s fire in his eyes. “Don’t pack it just yet.”