“What kind of favor?”
“Can you not tell Houston what I said about his marriage? The thing is… He spoke to me about you in confidence and, to be totally fucking honest, I’ve never liked his wife. I guess I let my personal feelings about her get away from me. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about his marriage being on the rocks. I don’t know if that’s true.”
I’m silent for a moment as I try to remember what it was like not to want Houston. I wish I could call him right now and ask him if there’s any truth to Troy’s assertions. What kind of emergency at home kept him from coming here today? Did something happen to his wife? Did she find out about his visit to my apartment last night?
Or maybe Houston just didn’t want to see me today.
“No worries,” I say, leaning against the door. “Anyway, Houston’s marriage is none of my business.”
After a stiff, awkward silence, Troy turns to me and smiles. “But I wasn’t lying when I said he was crazy about you… And if you ask me, he still is.”
22. Rory
August 24th
* * *
After my first day as the assistant manager of the former coffee bar slash soon-to-be wine-slash-coffee bar, Benji sends me off with a worn, folded sheet of paper containing his best intentions. I’m tempted to read his attempt at wedding vows on the walk home, but I’m afraid the light rain will ruin the thin, worn paper. The moment I walk inside my apartment, my mom greets me at the door with Skippy. The salacious grin on her face is a bit frightening.
I set my backpack containing Benji’s vows and the Sierra Nevada box on the breakfast bar and crouch down to smooch Skippy. His tongue makes a loud clopping noise as he laps my face, his tail wagging so hard his whole butt shimmies from side to side. Holding my arms out for a hug, I smile when he lays his paws on my shoulders like a good pup. Then I squeeze him hard, burying my nose in his black fur as he whines and continues to lick my cheek and ear.
“I know, buddy. I missed you, too.” I let him go and get to my feet, trying to ignore the backpack as I make my way into the kitchen. “Did you check his blood glucose? And why are you so happy?”
My mom follows closely behind me. “Yes, I did, twenty minutes ago. He’s fine for now. And I heard you had a man here last night. Actually, two men.”
I roll my eyes as I imagine Mrs. Vernor from across the hall standing inside her door last night, listening to what was going on in the corridor. Then she took it upon herself to pass the juicy gossip onto my mom today.
“It was nothing. Just a couple of friends.”
“Since when do you have boyfriends?”
“Not boyfriends. Just friends who happen to be guys.”
I pour myself a glass of water from the tap and gulp it down, leaving the glass in the sink to use it later. As expected, my mom pushes me aside so she can wash it now. She hates the sight of dirty dishes in the sink.
“Don’t play coy with me, Rory. And don’t be so secretive. It’s good to talk about your love life. It helps you work out problems you might not be able to work out on your own.”
“Who says I’m having problems? And who says I have a love life?”
“Well, you’re going to have to work pretty hard to maintain a love life if you bottle everything up.”
For a moment, I consider telling my mom everything that happened last night with Houston and Liam. Then I remember how much she hated Houston after he broke my heart. She may have been a strict grammarian during her days as a schoolteacher, but she threw all the rules of language out the window when she spoke of him during that time. Of course, it probably had to do with the fact that she was so stressed over the divorce at the time. She was on a man-hating kick for a while there.
“Why are you so concerned with me getting a boyfriend? It’s been five years since you and dad divorced and you’re still single.”
“That’s different. I’m old. I’ve done the whole marriage, career, family thing. I can take my time finding my next partner.”
I shake my head as I head for the bedroom with Skippy and my mom trailing right behind. “That’s such a load of crap, Mom. If anything, being old means you have less time to find your next partner. I’m the one who can take my time. I’m twenty-four. I have at least fifty or sixty good years left in me. You’re fifty-one, Mom. You’re the one who needs to get laid.”
“Rory!” She grabs a pillow off my bed and throws it at me. “Watch your mouth.”
I laugh as I grab a pair of clean skinny jeans and a T-shirt out of the closet then head for the bathroom. My mom watches me curiously, probably waiting for me to tell her why I’m taking a shower right after work instead of right before bed, the way I’ve done it all my life. Finally, I move to close the bathroom door and she stops it with her hand.
“Do you have a date tonight, young lady?”
I smile at her, knowing she’s expecting me to deflect the question. “I may even get laid.”
I close the door and shake my head when I hear my mom shout, “Yes!”
Two hours later, my mom has left the building and Skippy is sitting at my feet under the dining table, watching me eat a bowl of homemade udon. The folded sheet of paper and Sierra Nevada box are sitting on top of the table in front of me. I clamp my chopsticks around some noodles and bring them to my mouth, slurping the rich broth as I try to decide which one to open first. I know I promised Houston I’d wait for him to open the box for me, but my curiosity is reaching epic levels the longer the box remains unopened. I sigh as I reach for the paper and unfold it, laying it on the table next to my bowl so I can read as I eat.
* * *
My dearest Bella,
The love of my life, and I know you didn’t want me to mention this but the mother of my child.
* * *
I shake my head in dismay. He’s going to infuriate his future wife with these vows. If she doesn’t want him to mention the pregnancy or the baby, that means she wants to try to hide her baby bump, which is totally her prerogative. At least Benji recognizes he needs help.
I read the rest of the vows to myself, then I read them again aloud, just to see how they sound when spoken. It’s even worse. Though Skippy does respond to my recitation by putting his paw on my thigh, so maybe Benji’s on to something.
“You want to marry me, Skip?” I say, shaking his paw as he stares at me dumbly.
I finish my udon and clean up, then I plop down on the sofa with Benji’s vows. My new best friend, the Sierra Nevada box, keeps watch from the coffee table. I’ll attempt to rewrite Benji’s vows while I wait for Liam to come over in an hour. The first thing I do is type up what Benji has already written into a notes app on my phone, then I begin thinking about what I would want my future husband to say to me when I get married.
Houston’s face materializes in my mind and I suddenly have trouble breathing. I hold the phone to my chest as I think of him saying the words I’ve needed to hear for five years. I was wrong to let you go, and I’d rather die than let it happen again.
The vibration startles me. I pull the phone away from my chest and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I answer the call and slowly press it to my ear.
“Houston?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the store today.”
The sound of his voice, smooth and sweet with a slight crackly finish, reminds me of toffee. And it makes my chest ache with longing.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, remembering my promise to Troy not to say anything about the things he shared with me today.
Houston is silent for a moment and I count each breath until he responds. “No, actually, everything’s pretty messed up right now.”
His honesty catches me off my guard. “What are you saying? Are you… Are you getting divorced?”
“I want to, but it’s not that simple. I need to see you. Can I come over?”
I let out a deep sigh. “Houston, I can’t be on this side of a list of excuses. If you want to be married, you should sta
y married and stop jerking me around.”
“Rory, don’t hang up. Listen to me. Just… please listen.” He expels a large puff of air, and I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say. “My wife is sick. Mentally, not physically. She’s… threatening to kill herself if I leave her. And I know this has nothing to do with you, but you know me. You know… how much I loved Hallie.”
Tears well up in my eyes the moment he says her name. “I know,” I whisper. “But you can’t save everyone, Houston.”
I think of how he saved me from having to live in a dorm haunted by my best friend’s memory. How he gave me a car to save me from having to drive my shitty Toyota, though I was very lucky I held onto that Toyota or I wouldn’t have a car right now. Then, of course, I think of how he saved me from making the mistake of marrying him when he obviously wasn’t ready. And how he tried to save Hallie when he found her.
“That’s why I want to see you,” he replies. “I think… I need you to save me this time.”
I bite my lip to keep from turning into a complete sobbing mess. This is what I’ve needed to hear. Not that he was wrong, just that he needs me.
“Rory?”
“Yes?”
“Open your door.” His words are followed by a knocking that sends my heart racing.
“Wait. I’ll be right there.”
I end the call and immediately open my text messaging app. My fingers tremble as I tap out a vaguely honest message to Liam, telling him something came up and I’ll have to call him tomorrow. He doesn’t respond right away, so I head for the front door. I take a deep breath and let it out as I pull it open.
Houston leans with one hand on my doorframe, a simmering cocktail of quiet desperation and raw sex appeal. His eyes are fixed on mine, communicating silently, but the message is loud and clear as his gaze falls on my lips.
I take a step back. He steps forward. I begin to stumble. His right arm catches me around the waist. His left hand pushes the door closed. The excitement pulsates between us as we stare into each other’s eyes.
My gaze wanders over the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw. The perfect slope of his nose and the dark desire in his blue eyes. And, oh, that mouth. The mouth that spoke the words I couldn’t forget. The tongue that taught me how to surrender every part of myself to him.
His fingers brush my cheek. “God, I’ve missed this,” he whispers as he runs his fingers through my hair and tucks it behind my ear.
My arms slacken at my sides as I feel myself dissolving into him with each stroke of his fingers. “What are we doing, Houston?”
He traces his thumb over the shell of my ear, then he gently squeezes my earlobe. My chest heaves as the throbbing between my legs intensifies. His other hand moves up to cup the other side of my face. Cradling my head in his massive hands, he holds my gaze as I grab his wrists to steady myself.
“Whatever you want to do.”
He leans forward and I hold my breath. His lips hover over mine. My heart pounds a roaring beat in my ears. I tighten my grip on his wrists. I may collapse at any moment. Then, his mouth is on mine.
His lips are as soft as I remember. His breath hot on my mouth, so hot my insides are burning up. I want to part my lips and kiss him like we haven’t seen each other in five years, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ve never been more afraid.
“I can’t,” I whisper desperately.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t… I can’t believe what I’m about to do.”
23. Houston
August 24th
* * *
I thread my fingers through the soft hair at her nape. As I firmly clasp the back of her neck, her head tilts to the side and her lips part for me. The heat of her shallow breaths stir a primal longing inside me. Leaning in closer, I brush my lips over hers and lay a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. Her lips are still slightly parted as she lets out a soft whimper, waiting for me. Just that small sound is all it takes. My erection grows until it pushes painfully against the zipper of my jeans.
Her willingness to give herself to me is hotter than she could possibly imagine. I kiss her luscious top lip and she exhales as I take it into my mouth and suck gently. Then I tilt my head slightly as my lips cover hers. Our mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, and we let out a collective sigh followed by a soft chuckle.
“I still love you,” I murmur into her mouth. “You believe me, don’t you?”
She tightens her grip on my forearms. “How could you forget me?”
I tilt my head back to look into her hazel eyes and my stomach twists when I see the tears collecting at the corners. “Forget you? I never forgot you.”
“When you first saw me at the store, you didn’t recognize me.”
I hoped she would have forgotten that embarrassing moment. I consider lying to her and telling her I was only kidding. That I totally recognized her. But if I want any chance of keeping her, I know I have to be honest.
“I started going to a therapist after we broke up, and she treated me for PTSD.”
“PTSD? Are you saying I gave you PTSD?”
I chuckle. “No.”
“Then what does that have to do with forgetting me?”
She loosens her grip on my arms so I let go of her face and grab her hands.
“I asked her to help me forget what happened with Hallie and she started me on an experimental PTSD treatment that uses anesthesia and CBT to modify painful memories.”
“CBT?”
“Cognitive behavioral therapy. They gave me low doses of xenon gas for a few months and I also had to change my behavior whenever something happened that reminded me of the day Hallie died.”
“But…”
“Yeah, almost everything associated with you reminded me of Hallie.”
She lets go of my arms. “You really forgot me?”
I feel physically sick at this question. Not because I resent the accusation. I resent myself for ever making her feel like I’d forgotten her. As much as I wanted to erase the mistakes I made with Rory and Hallie from my memory, it’s impossible to erase the bad stuff without also erasing the good.
“No, you don’t understand,” I reply, taking both her hands in mine and looking her in the eye. “I went through the program, and it seemed to work for a while, but every day that passed, every visit to my mom’s house, and every conversation about Hallie chipped away at what little progress I’d made. The effect wore off. And three years ago, I was pretty much at square one.”
She looks up at me and the hurt in her eyes makes me sick with myself. “But you still forgot me because you didn’t have any more reminders of me?”
“I could never forget you,” I whisper, letting go of one of her hands so I can brush a piece of hair out of her face. “But I tried really hard to because I was in a world of pain after we broke up. And what happened the day we ran into each other two weeks ago was a split-second error. Bad programming. I can prove it to you. Where’s the box I gave you?”
24. Rory
August 24th
* * *
The moment he lets go of my hands, I’m struck by how cold I feel without his hands on me. Then I remember his question and I turn around to face the coffee table where the Sierra Nevada box sits. I move toward it and Houston follows me, reaching for the box before I can grab it.
“Sit down.”
I take a seat on the sofa, but he doesn’t follow suit. He stands next to the coffee table, staring at the box in his hands. I wish I knew what he was thinking, because all I can think of right now is the promise I made to him last night. If he shows me what’s inside the box, I’m supposed to tell him what my book is about.
Finally, he tears his gaze from the box and tilts his head as he notices the sheet of paper sitting on the coffee table. He’s six-foot-four. Can he really read the words scribbled on that worn piece of paper from all the way up there?
“What is that?”
I reach forward and swipe the pape
r off the table. “It’s nothing. It’s just something I’m working on for my boss.”
“Your boss asked you to help him write his wedding vows?”
Suddenly I feel guilty, as if I’ve somehow betrayed Houston. “Yes. He found out I have a degree in English and he was kind of desperate for some help. It’s not a big deal.”
He smiles as he looks down at me. “Can I see what you’ve written?”
“No!”
He laughs. “Why not?”
“Because I haven’t had a chance to write much of anything yet, and it’s embarrassing.”
“Why is it embarrassing? It’s just me.” He sits next to me on the sofa and I get a strong whiff of his clean, masculine scent. “Let me see, then I’ll open the box.”
“I thought you wanted to know what my book is about.”
“I want to see both.”
His words echo in my mind and the guilt hits me hard. Houston wants both me and his wife. And I was about to let him have his way.
“You have to leave,” I say, tucking the vows into my back pocket as I rise from the sofa.
He stands up with me. “Why? What did I do?”
“It’s not what you did. It’s—” I’m interrupted by the vibration in my front pocket. I slip my phone out and shake my head when I read the text message.
* * *
Liam: Rory, if you’re not ready to go out yet, just let me know. I’d rather keep you as a friend than risk one of us getting hurt.
* * *
“Who’s that?” Houston asks, glancing at the back of my phone.
“It’s a really nice guy who’s not married.”
His chest is heaving and his jaw is clenched tightly as the anger percolates inside him. “Don’t shut me out, Rory. Give me a chance.”