Chapter 33
Monday morning, bright and early. It’s literally so early that my brain still feels asleep. The shuttle pulls up to Lincoln’s house, and now that I’m actually seeing it in the brightest of daylight, I’m finally processing what it really looks like.
He opens the door and meets me outside, taking my bag from my hand.
“Come in,” he says kindly, and when I step inside, Morris runs over to greet me.
“He’s such a friendly cat,” I say.
“Yeah,” Lincoln chuckles.
“He’s very cute. Never took you to be a cat person,” I tell him.
“I didn’t think I was a cat person either. I guess I am now,” he replies.
“So tell me again why Sarah can’t watch him,” I ask.
“He gets lonely, and Sarah—” He pauses, clearly debating whether to say whatever is on his mind. Then he finishes, “Sarah’s busy. She’s kind of on my schedule.”
I suck in a breath and give him a sarcastic grin, narrowing my eyes into slits, making sure he can see it.
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget? You guys see each other day in and day out at every hour of the day.”
“Yeah. Especially now. So Morris needs somebody to look after him,” Lincoln responds.
“Why did you bother getting a cat if you don’t have the time to take care of one or be with him?” I ask as I walk further into the house, following him. He starts setting up something, and I wonder what he’s doing.
“Because he’s a rescue. Cat distribution system,” he says.
What the hell is he talking about?
“How the universe gives cats to people?” he expounds, reading my expression.
“Oh, yeah. Oh,” I say, piping up.
“Did he come after you?” I ask.
“I was walking on the road just doing a jog, but I was tired. So I was catching my breath and walking, and he comes barreling out to me, little thing he was,” Lincoln explains.
“That’s really cute. I don’t think he could have chose a worse person,” I say.
Lincoln chuckles.
I don’t laugh.
Part of me wants to.
And if I really let my mind drift, I could almost trick myself into believing everything is fine, that nothing ever happened, that we’re not divorced, that the mess he made didn’t exist.
But it did.
And it’s annoying that I have to constantly remind myself.
Lincoln moves toward a wall. “So look here,” he says as he gestures. “This is the living room camera, and I'm gonna give you the account information for the surveillance.” His voice comes out stilted, half distracted as he types something into his phone.
“Give me your phone,” he says.
“I’d rather not,” I reply.
Lincoln looks at me for a moment. “Sorry. Old habit. I'm gonna send you something then through your email.”
There’s a pause before he asks, “Do you still have the personal one, or are you using the one that you signed up with for the job?”
“I still have my personal one,” I answer.
“Is it okay if I send it there?” he asks.
I pause. “Sure.”
My heart keeps fluttering, and it’s so freaking annoying. I don’t want to have feelings for him. But how do you stop yourself from feeling for someone you loved for so long? It’s only been a couple of years. Not nearly enough time to get over him completely. But I’m getting there.
Working with him is going to be annoying.
I don’t have to take this job, but he’s paying me the best. And it sucks.
It really sucks that it has to be him. But you know what?
He owes me. Why should I feel bad? Why should I feel bad right now?
This dude completely destroyed me, so I’m gonna use him and milk him for everything he’s worth. Why the fuck not?
Gabby Arnoldson, why am I upset?
Should I change my name?
Nah. I’ll keep it. Makes things easier.
Easier for what though?
Then I’d have to redo every government document I own.
“You okay?” Lincoln asks.
“I’m fine. Why?” I ask him.
“You look like you're—” He pauses, smiling just a little. “You’re upset at me.”
“Why would I be upset at you?” I ask.
“It’s all over your face, Gabby,” he says. “You’re probably thinking whether or not this is a good idea, probably trying to distance yourself from me. And I get it. I deserve all of it. And just to let you know, you don’t have to do this forever.”
“What? Just until the cat dies?” I ask.
The second the words leave my mouth, I hear how insensitive they sound.
“Yeah,” Lincoln replies quietly. “I hope he doesn’t die anytime soon. But if you choose that you don’t wanna be here or take care of him anymore—”
“No,” I interrupt, softening. “I need the money, Lincoln, and I do like Morris.” I pick the cat up again, petting him gently.
“It kind of…” I mutter before catching myself. Goddamn it. I almost forgot myself just now.
“Kind of what?” he asks.
“I was gonna say it kinda reminds me of us with Walnut, but—”
“It does a little bit. Yeah,” Lincoln agrees.
“But he’s not our kid. He’s yours and Sarah’s,” I say.
“No. Actually, he’s just mine,” he replies.
“Okay,” I say.
There’s an awkward silence between us. Lincoln just stares at me. I notice his eyes skim down my body for a split second before dragging back up to my face. It’s so subtle you could miss it, but then he catches himself, blinking fast.
“Okay. I sent it to you,” Lincoln says. “Just press the link, and you’ll have access so you can actually see what the cameras are hooked up to.”
He reaches away from me where the living room camera is hooked up and unplugs it to show me, before wrapping up the wire neatly. Then, he sets the camera in a nearby drawer.
“I don’t have any hidden cameras or anything like that, just in case you’re worried. Trust me. I’m not that unhinged.”
“If you say so,” I tell him.
“I do,” Lincoln replies.
“Yeah. But you are a liar, though,” I snip.
From the corner of his face, I see him roll his eyes. Son of a bitch. What is he rolling his eyes for? It’s not like I’m lying.
“Let me show you his food,” Lincoln says as he walks ahead. “I separated it via containers for the days. I don’t wanna overfeed him.”
“You realize I’m probably gonna break every rule that you write for him. Right?” I warn.
Lincoln turns around and smiles at me. “You know that’s why Walnut got so fat. Right? After you left him with me, he lost a bunch of weight.”
“Probably why he died,” I mutter.
“That’s fucked up, Gabby,” he says, serious now.
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” I answer quickly.
“So you can tell those horrible cringey jokes, but I can’t?” he asks, half-joking, though I can tell what I said hurt him.
“How were you when Walnut died?” I ask.
“I was destroyed. He’s the last thing that I—” He trails off.
Then he turns fully to face me, putting his phone in his pocket and slipping both hands into his pockets.
“He was the last… he was the last thing that I had left over from you. That was a, like, a symbol of us. Every time I looked at him, I… I don’t know.
It was sad. Not just because I lost him,” he says, his eyes wary.
“Anyway, I gotta get to work,” he says after licking his lips and breathing in, collecting himself.
“When will you be home? Or… never mind,” I say.
“I should be home by ten o’clock tonight unless things get later,” Lincoln answers.
I want to ask him so badly if he’s going to see Sarah later, but I probably know the answer. It’s fucked up that I’m here watching his pussycat while he’s out there fucking the other. Weird. But whatever. I'm getting paid for it. He can fuck every woman in town if he wants to.
“Does Sarah know about this little arrangement?” I ask.
“No,” he replies.
“You don’t think she should? I mean, you do like hiding things from people. But considering the source of the person that you’re gonna be spending time with, under the circumstances in which you now spend time with her outside of work, I would think you would tell her.”
Lincoln goes still for a minute, then starts taking off his pants, leaving himself in his boxers. Then he peels off his overshirt, revealing his naked abs. He’s put some weight back on; muscle weight. He’s so much more buff than he was when he was with me. Holy shit.
Why is he just undressing in front of me?
My eyes trail downward against my will. I can see the meat hanging there, half hard already.
Why is he half hard?
I want to laugh so bad.
You know what?
I feel like being evil.
Why should I be the only one losing my mind?
It’s just physical attraction.
Okay, maybe a little more than that, if I’m being honest.
But seriously?
He needs to be punished.
The fact that he feels comfortable undressing in front of me is crazy.
“Lincoln,” I say sharply.
He’s still rambling.
“And, yeah, they have the investors coming by as well—”
“Lincoln.”
“I—yeah. Sorry. What?” he asks.
“Why are you undressing in front of me?” I demand.
Lincoln just stares, then looks down at himself.
“I’m sorry. Habit.”
“Habit after two years of not seeing each other?” I ask.
“What can I say? I feel comfortable undressing in front of you,” he smirks.
“Really,” I reply flatly.
I don’t smirk back. I’m not giving him that satisfaction. I’m playing the game, but he’s not getting enjoyment out of it.
“So you’re with Sarah. Right?” I ask.
Lincoln doesn’t answer. He just folds his lips in, uncomfortable.
“Dude, I don’t care about you anymore. I don’t love you anymore. Trust me. I’ve moved on,” I lie through my teeth.
Why should I feel bad?
He lied through his teeth at me all the time.
And we’re not married anymore.
It’s none of his business what I feel.
“Have you really?” Lincoln asks.
I’m not answering that. When he notices my plank expression he relents.
“I mean, we’re—like I said, we’re just…” he stutters.
“You’re just fucking each other. Like you were back then,” I say.
“I mean, I maybe. We’re partners at work and, I mean, it—” he mumbles.
“Why are you suddenly unable to speak, Lincoln?” I ask.
“I… why is it… I thought you just said you moved on.”
“I can’t ask you? The whole Internet is asking.”
“We’re not an official couple. No. If that’s what you’re asking,” Lincoln finally admits.
“But you do fuck her regularly. Right?” I press.
He pauses.