Okay, I finally managed to get this installment done. It had a different feel for me than most of the other chapters. I hope that's a good thing. It's been off-and-on for over two months, and I make no guarantees that any of it makes sense. My work schedule has pretty much blown chunks of late, so I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out, and I definitely want to apologize to everybody that's written me anytime in the last few months. I've been horrible about writing back. On the plus side, my schedule's gonna get better, so maybe I will, too. No promises, though....
Thanks to everyone for their constant support. I'd love to mention everyone, but I've been told that my longwinded-ness is exceeded only by another certain author, I know :) Speaking of him, my thanks always to DLS for, well, everything. SHMILY. A thanks to Karen for helping to keep me inspired and coherent. She has to deal with the not-so-polished stuff that comes out of my head, so everybody owes her a debt of gratitude, because without her, you'd need the Rosetta stone to make sense of any of this. Of course, thanks, as usual, to Sprout, just for being him. He brings a smile to my face whenever I talk to him, which helps on those days that I'm just not motivated.
My thanks to every one who voted for me in the Fifth Annual Boy Band Story Awards. I won for the Use of 98 Degrees in a Novella. While JC and the guys will always be my first love, I've gotten attached to Nick, Drew, and the boys and enjoy bringing them into the story from time to time.
Of course, my love, as always, to my Joshua. And without further ado ....
"Search and Rescue" Chapter 27
"You know this guy?" JC asked uncertainly as he set Ashley down on the blanket in front of the couch.
"It's Rich," I said, still in a state of shock.
"Rich who . . . ?" he began to ask, but suddenly thinking better of it when he realized the answer to his own question. A look of intense rage gripped his face, and he lunged at Rich.
Though Rich had several inches and a few pounds on him, JC had the element of surprise. He slammed Rich against the wall, locking an elbow under his chin, drawing back, and hitting him.
"That's enough," I said sternly. Both of them looked at me with surprise, but both of them held fast, apparently fully appreciating the forcefulness in my voice.
I walked over to them and ran a finger across the fresh cut on Rich's forehead. "Josh, get the ice bag out of the medicine cabinet in my bathroom." He started to protest, but my glare stopped him cold. He nodded, obviously displeased, but he did it nonetheless, grabbing Ashley to put him down in the bedroom. "Rich, sit down on the couch."
"Matt, listen. I'm sorry. I just . . . ."
"Sit your ass down," I told him. He, too, nodded, and did as he was told.
JC reappeared with the ice bag, as requested, as well as the first aid kit.
I knelt beside Rich, opening the box on the floor beside me and withdrawing some gauze and alcohol. As I poured some hydrogen peroxide over the cut, which, from appearances, probably came from JC's ring, Rich began to apologize again.
"Shut up," I said flatly as I wiped the cut clean. I used a couple of steri-strips to close the wound securely to minimize scarring. JC sat silently in the corner, sulking, but saying nothing.
Once I was through, I closed the first aid kit and handed it to JC as I stood. I turned back towards Rich. "Get out of my house, and get out of my life. You've done it once, now do it again."
With that, I calmly walked back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Ashley started to cry. I mentally chided myself for waking him up. Walking over to the crib, I took him into my arms and sat down in the rocker.
I could still hear Rich and JC in the living room.
"What in the hell were you thinking coming here?" JC demanded.
"Stay out of this," Rich told him. "This is none of your business."
"None of my business?'" JC asked incredulously. "You decide to pop back into my fiance's life just weeks before we're supposed to be married and it's none of my business?'"
"Fiance?" Rich repeated.
"Yes, fiance," JC confirmed. "We've been engaged since last Christmas. So again, I'm asking what in the hell were you thinking coming here?"
"That's between me and Matt."
"I think Matt made it perfectly clear what's still between you two--basically, the door--use it."
"You don't have the slightest idea of what's between us."
"Oh, no," JC corrected, "I know all about the history between you two. Let me tell you something, Rich. I love that man more than life itself, and it took a small miracle to get him to open himself up again and let me in. Why? Because of the walls he put up after you left. The only thing left between you is a lot of years and even more hurt. Do him a favor--next time, stay gone."
"You have no right to judge me."
"Quite the contrary, actually--I have every right. You hurt him more than any human being ever could. You walked out on him when he needed you most. Sound familiar? He was dying of cancer, his father ran out on him, his mother died, his wife died, and two of his children died. You were all that he had, and you left, you selfish son of a bitch." I could hear tears of rage in JC's voice. "You very well could have destroyed him. But guess what? He's learned to live without you, so if you ever cared anything about him, let him live his life in peace."
"Don't you get it?" Rich screamed. "That's why I'm here."
"I'm not following."
"I did care about him. I still do. I'm still in love with him."
There was a dead silence all through the house. Ashley was asleep in my arms once more, and I could barely draw breath. From what I could overhear, neither of them said a word, unmoving and unwavering. I stood up, put the baby back in his crib, and walked back to the front of the house.
"Get out," I said simply.
"Matt, I just want to talk," Rich pleaded.
"Apparently, I was less than clear," I said stoically.
"No," Rich said, shifting his eyes to the carpet. "I understand."
"No," JC cut in. "I don't think you do."
"I'll handle this, Josh. I said get out."
Rich simply nodded and placed a slip of paper on the table. "This is the number at the hotel where I'm staying. I'll be here for a week, hoping--praying--that you'll change your mind and at least talk to me."
With that, he finally left. JC looked at me, and I just turned my back to him, walking out onto the patio.
I leaned onto the deck's railing and stared off into the morning light. A light breeze brushed the hair off of my face and pushed my clothes more snugly against my body. I could hear JC's footsteps as he approached, despite the great pains he was taking to move silently. I heard him stop a few paces behind me. Sensing my need for solitude at this moment, he gave it to me--sitting close by if I needed him but saying nothing if I didn't. The more I ignored my present situation and analyzed him, the more I loved him.
I turned to face him and plastered on the most genuine smile I could muster. He looked at me with a confused look in his eyes. "Exactly how much of that was for you, and exactly how much of that was for me?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked, perplexed.
"Don't play games with me, Matt," he said flatly. "You're a lot smarter than I am, but even I get a very strong sense of what's going on here."
"Don't belittle yourself, and don't play games with me. Say what's on your mind."
"You still love him."
"Don't be ridiculous!" I hissed.
"I wish to God that it was just me being jealous," JC said with a hurt look. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't still have feelings for him."
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. I didn't know what I felt for Rich anymore, but I definitely felt something. I struggled with every fiber in my being to make some sound, some audible croak. Instead, I was deathly silent, and the tears began to instantly well in his eyes. In some show of bravado, he pinched the bridge of his nose to wipe them away before they fell.
"Well, I guess that says it then," he forced himself to smile. "His number's on the table, so why don't you call him? You obviously need to figure out where he stands, where I stand, and where we both stand with you."
He turned into the house before I could even gather my wits. "Josh, wait! Please!" I pleaded with him.
He stopped, allowing his head to fall against his chest. He turned to face me once again, despondently. "No, Matt. This isn't me walking out on you. This is me giving you the space you need to make sure you're not making a mistake with me."
"I'm NOT making a mistake with you!" I shouted. The regret was almost instantaneous, as Ashley's screams echoed through the house.
He sighed and walked back to the bedroom with me mere seconds behind. He lifted the baby into the safety of one arm, and instantly, the house returned to its previous quiet. "I said that wrong, Matt," he told me, looking into my eyes. "As much as this absolutely kills me, I need to let you do this, for you and for me. I will not let either of us wonder what might have been."
"Josh, I'm asking you not to go."
"And I'm telling you I'm just giving you a few days. This guy was your best friend and the love of your life. You can't tell me there's not unfinished business there. I'm just going back to Justin's for a few days." He inhaled sharply and smiled. "I've got some work to do."
He handed me the baby, grabbed his clothes, putting them on in mid-stride, and pulled the carry-on over his shoulder. He walked down the hall without another word and shut the front door behind him. I walked to one of the front windows and watched him drive away. "Apparently," I said to myself, "so do I."
As the door closed behind him, I screamed at myself, wondering what in the hell I was thinking. After putting Ashley down in his crib down the hall, I fell onto the couch, straining my neck backwards as I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes. I kept asking myself if I was still in love with Rich. The answer was more a question than an answer--how could I still be in love with him? I asked myself if I was still in love with JC. The answer was a resounding yes. Then what was so God damned difficult?
I must have fallen asleep like that, because I jerked awake when Ashley started crying. I stumbled back to the bedroom, stubbing my toe on the edge of the end table. I cradled him in my arms, which seemed to only partially soothe him. After checking to see if he needed changing, if he was hungry, or if he was feverish, it hit me. "You miss Uncle Josh, don't you?" I asked him, and I could have almost sworn that the very mention of his name set him at ease. Running my index finger across the cleft in his chin, I just smiled to myself. "So do I."
Several days passed. I went back to work and back to counting down the days until JC would be back. Throwing myself into the job had always been one of my primary coping mechanisms, but at this exact moment, it wasn't working for shit. I even agreed to help out in the intensive care unit by picking up a couple of shifts. Adrienne, one of the other nurses, was absolutely bewildered when I did that.
"I don't want to work for the rest of my life," she pouted. Then, she smiled. "I don't even want to work the rest of my shift."
I just shook my head, laughing. I helped roll one of her patients to one side while she changed the linen. "McDonald's is always hiring," I teased.
"Do I look like I give a shit if you want fries with that?" she asked, somewhat seriously before cracking a smile. Adrienne was half-Chinese, though she looked full-blooded. She even had that often dainty, proper facade when she wanted it. Lucky for us, that wasn't very often.
"Of course, sweetie," I smiled. "You're a fucking people person."
"I'm just doing this until something better comes along," she smirked.
"Like what?" I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
"A man with a ten inch dick and a bottomless bank account," she giggled. "Wanna get married?"
I was laughing hysterically at this point. Sadly, I was almost glad her patient was unresponsive. I'd hate to think we subjected some unwilling participant to this discussion. Of course, there was the chance he could hear us anyway. If Adrienne knew that or cared, I couldn't tell. "As much as I would like to be able to claim otherwise," I began, "I don't meet both of those criteria."
We finished the hospital corners on the sheet and blanket at the same time, and she walked over to me and patted my cheek. "Yeah," she smiled, "but there's still time for you to get rich."
"You're not right in the head," I told her.
"Of course not," she toothily grinned. "If I was, would I work here?"
"Point taken," I conceded.
"I'm just looking for a guy that support me in the lifestyle I'd like to become accustomed to," she pouted, trying not to smile.
"But what would Mrs. Gates say?"
Adrienne started to walk away, but looked behind her with a mischievous look in her eye. "I'd do her to, if the money was right."
I acted shocked. "Now that we've established what you are, there's little sense in haggling over the price."
"Like hell," she grinned as we walked back to the nurses' station. "I've never denied being a whore, but I have never been called cheap."
"You've never been called inexpensive," I smiled. "There's a difference."
"Oh, yeah," she quipped. "I keep forgetting that part."
I just shook my head and went back to my lukewarm coffee and partially read newspaper. She went back to filing her nails. The other nurse that was working with us on nights had been pulled to the psychiatric unit because our census was down. It was the wee hours of the morning, and Adrienne and I had done everything we could find to stay awake. We'd bathed and changed all four patients, given all the medications, and poked in our heads so often that if some of them hadn't been on the ventilator, they would have told us to get out and let them get some sleep.
"Matt, are you gay?" Adrienne asked nonchalantly, not even raising her eyes from her manicure.
I lowered the paper and raised an eyebrow at her. "What makes you ask that?"
"Whenever I ask you if you want to get married, I never get an answer."
I chuckled. "Is that all? I thought it was because I was a male nurse."
She rolled her eyes. "Give me a little credit. That stereotype hasn't held much water in decades. I was just curious."
"Would it make a difference if I was?"
She really seemed to think about it for a minute before answering. "Not especially, though I will stop with the marriage proposals."
"Then absolutely," I smirked.
"Great!" she shouted. "I have this brother . . . ."
"Oh, hell no," I shot back, and she burst into laughter.
When we stopped laughing again, she pushed my paper down and stared at me. "Well?"
"Well, I'm engaged to a guy, if that helps," I smiled.
"So how come we haven't met him?" Adrienne nagged.
"Because Mom, we need our privacy," I grinned, folding my paper into my lap long enough to take a drink.
"Ooh," she taunted. "Must be somebody important."
I smiled to myself after a few seconds of introspection. I nodded, "He is to me."
Adrienne scooted her chair right next to mine and yanked my paper away from me. "It's somebody famous, isn't it?"
I pushed her chair backwards a few feet before she caught herself. "No," I lied, "but what difference would that make?"
"Then it's true!" she exclaimed.
"What's true?" I asked her incredulously, beginning to lose my patience. I chugged some of my coffee down before I said something.
"You're dating one of those boy-band guys!"
Coffee shot from my mouth all over the nurses' station. "What?" I asked, shocked.
"That's the rumor."
"What's the rumor, Adrienne?"
"Will you tell me if it's true or not if I tell you?"
"Probably not," I told her, "but I will wring your neck if you don't."
She just laughed, which was irritating. "You're dating that guy from 98 Degrees, aren't you?"
I had to fight from smiling. "What guy?"
"Oh, please," she spat sarcastically. "You're gay and in your twenties. You know what group I'm talking about."
I couldn't resist smiling at this point. "I never denied otherwise. I'm still trying to figure out which guy you're talking about."
"That Nick guy," she said, as though it was obvious. "He's such a pretty boy. It's obvious he's gay."
I was now reduced to hysterical fits of laughter that almost had me in the floor. "I'll be sure to tell his girlfriend that," I laughed between breaths, "but I really don't know how his mother is going to take him dating his own cousin."
"You're cousins?" she asked, shocked.
I nodded, unable to stop the pain in my stomach that my laughter was causing.
"You don't have to make me feel so stupid," she sighed, trying not to laugh herself. "I'm going to kill Shelley for showing me that picture of you grabbing his ass."
I just shook my head and waved it on. "It's okay," I told her, winded. "That was just too funny."
"So, do I know this guy you are engaged to?" she pried.
"I don't know," I told her, going back to my newspaper.
"You wouldn't tell me one way or the other, would you?" she asked me.
"Nope," I said simply.
"Are you in love with him?"
Though I thought that was a bit personal, I replied in similar fashion, "Yep."
"Then answer me a question," she told me, pushing my paper down again.
"If I can," I sighed.
"If you're in love with him, what in the hell are you doing working with my ass at three in the morning instead of in the bed with him?"
That was a good question. I told her I would answer her question if I could . . . she never got an answer.
Trying to come up with an answer to that question haunted me all the way home and for hours after I got there. I tried to sleep, but that proved to be a gross exercise in futility. I went to the kitchen for something to help me sleep, all the while mentally beating myself up for being a dumbass.
I loved JC more than life itself, but I just couldn't shake my feelings for Rich, even after all he'd done. What in the hell was wrong with me?
Throwing my head back as I swallowed the muscle relaxant, I finished a glass of water and just stood at the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Unavoidably, I found my attention drawn to the slip of paper sitting inches away from my keys. Fuming at myself, I walked over and snatched it up, ready to throw it in the trash. Instead, before I knew it, I was dialing the number . . . .
I was fixing my hair in the mirror, when I stopped to look at myself. Just what was I doing? For some odd reason, I cared about my appearance. True, there was nothing wrong with that, but I couldn't fathom why I cared how I looked to him. I threw the brush onto the sink and ran my fingers through my hair, tousling it into a mess. I walked back to the bedroom and changed into something I dug out of the dirty clothes hamper.
When the doorbell rang, I took my time in answering it. I finished watching the video on MTV, took a drink from my soda, and walked back to the bedroom to put my portable phone on its charger. As I walked by the mirror over the dresser, I realized I was preening and posturing like some teenage girl keeping some guy who had a crush on her waiting. I just shook my head and went to the door.
I opened the door, ready to scream at him everything that had been building inside of me for about a decade now. One look at him, and I lost my nerve. Not just because of what I had felt for him, but because he looked absolutely defeated.
"Come in," I told him, letting the door stand open as I walked back to the couch, tucking one leg under me as I sat.
Despondently, he shut the door behind him and followed me into the living room. He sat in the recliner adjacent to me. "Matt, I want to thank you for . . . ."
"What the hell do you want, Rich?"
His eyes went to the floor. "I know you're angry with me for . . . ."
"ANGRY?" I asked incredulously. "Angry doesn't begin to cover it." He wouldn't even look at me. I gave an exasperated sigh and ran my hands through my hair. Pulling my knees to my chest, I buried my face against them as I locked my fingers behind my neck.
I sat there for a few minutes, daring him to say anything. When I heard him fumbling with something, I looked up to see him nervously trying to light a cigarette. "I do not allow smoking in my house," I told him flatly.
He looked at me with a confused expression, and I traced his gaze to the ashtray on one of the end-tables. It was the one Nate and I had used, though I'd run it through the dishwasher after I got back from California.
"Correction," I almost smiled to myself, "I only allow smoking in my house under certain circumstances and for certain people." I walked over and picked up the ashtray and dropped it into the garbage can. "This is neither one of those circumstances and nor are you one of those people."
The way his eyebrows went up ever so slightly, I could tell he wasn't prepared for that. Then again, if he thought he was coming back into my life on his terms, if at all, he was sorely mistaken. He smiled and tossed the pack into the garbage. "You'd think I would have quit after everything.
God knows my doctor would hate that, because then he'd have to lecture me about something else."
Staring at the garbage can, I faced him with a look that visibly shook him.
"I don't owe you any explanations for not wanting you to smoke in my house."
"Of course not, Matt. I never . . . ."
"I don't owe you any explanations for not wanting you back in my life," I continued.
"Matt, please let me . . . ."
"I don't owe you anything," I spat at him. "Get the hell out of my house."
He started to protest, but ultimately, his head fell, defeated, to his chest. He nodded and started for the door. As I followed behind him, he stopped when his hand reached the knob. "It took a lot, but I understand what I did to you."
"No," I told him, "I don't think you do."
He gave me some sort of wistful half-smile. "You'd be surprised. I've grown up a lot in the years we've been apart."
"Congratulations," I said sarcastically. "So have I. I've had to."
He nodded in shame. "I do want you to know two things."
"I'm listening," I told him.
"First off, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"It's not worth much."
"Secondly, I still love you."
As much as I tried to hurl some comeback, the words caught in my throat. He wiped a tear and continued. "I'm not asking you to take me back. As much as I would love that, I could never ask that of you, and that's not what I'm here for."
"What are you here for, Rich?" I asked him through narrowed eyes.
"Trying to make amends--put things in order, I guess. I don't want us to end on the note that we did."
"It's a little late."
"I see that now," he smiled. "I don't have any ulterior motives, Matt. They're not that altruistic, either. It's selfish, but I needed to do this for me. I needed you to . . . ."
"Forgive you?" I offered.
He nodded.
"Find a priest," I told him. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of absolving you for what you did to me."
"You never did forgive that easily."
"And I don't forget at all."
"I guess you've never fucked up as royally as I did with you."
"Don't you dare try to make this about me!" I shouted at him.
"I'm not," he shook his head, eyes holding back tears. "I swear to God I'm not, Matt." When he opened them, I saw those same blue eyes that I'd once fallen in love with. I saw the tears that were in his eyes when he screamed for me to come back to him after he pulled me out of the water. And there, in front of me, a lifetime later, he fell on his knees. He clutched my hand to his cheek and kept crying for me to please forgive him.
In spite of myself, my heart broke. I knelt down and hugged him. There was too much history between us, and I still felt something for him. What, exactly, I didn't know.
When he came over the next day, I was sitting in the swing on the deck. I had left the sliding glass door open so I could hear him knock.
"Come in," I shouted.
When he came in, I saw that he had some flowers in his hand. Again, in spite of myself, I smiled. "You are such a sap," I told him. "You always were."
"I know," he smiled. "It's just a thank you, I guess--for giving me a chance to talk to you."
The smile on my face faded. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for me."
"I don't understand."
"I know," I smiled to myself. "I didn't either, at first."
"I'm not following," he admitted.
"I did it for someone I missed. I did it for the scared teenager I used to be." I looked out into the yard as I continued. "I did it for the Rich who was my best friend, not for Rich, the guy who broke my heart."
He wouldn't look at me when I turned to face him. "In a weird way," I told him, "I should thank you."
"Thank me?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah," I grinned to myself. "For saving my life. In the years since you've been gone, I wound up having a good life. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be able to watch my girls grow up."
"How are they?" he asked with genuine interest.
"Wonderful and rotten, all at the same time," I smiled with pride. "They're almost thirteen now."
"My God," he exclaimed. "Where has the time gone?"
"It's moved on, Rich," I told him flatly. "Like I have."
"So I see," he said. "I'd love to hear the story of how you and one of the most popular musicians in the world right now hooked up."
"Some other time, maybe," I replied, turning to look out into the backyard again. "It goes without saying that I'm not public knowledge for his fans."
"I imagine not. I won't say a word to anyone, Matt. I swear."
"I know," I told him. "That's why I didn't say anything before now, but I figured it was as good a time as any to reiterate the obvious."
We sat in silence for a few minutes before he finally asked the question that must have been weighing on his mind. "Do you love him?"
Without missing a beat, I calmly responded, "That's none of your business."
"You're absolutely right," he quickly agreed. "It's not."
Still as lackadaisically as I'd started, I told him, "I love him more than life itself. He's a good man with a good heart, and for some unfathomable reason, he's in love with me. He gave me a will to live when no one else could have."
I could hear the gears in his head spinning, so I continued. "I came out of remission almost a year ago."
"Jesus, Matt, I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake."
He was suddenly extremely uncomfortable, and he darted out the door without so much as a sound from me. I picked my coffee up from beside me and took it in the house to rinse the cup. As I placed the mug on the top rack of the dishwasher, I gave myself a contented sigh. I realized that I was just fine. I was more than fine.
Several days passed without anything weighing heavy on my mind. It was a welcome change. After getting up early to watch the sunrise, I sat down at the breakfast table with my morning routine--a blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, coffee (four sugars, three creams, instead of black, as I usually took it at work), and the New York Times. I smiled to myself when I realized I'd become as much a creature of habit as my grandfather had been.
I pulled my pajama bottoms up enough that I could lift my feet into the seat with me. I had put the CD of the guys on when I came in from the backyard, and I was twiddling the pen in the air beside my ear when I heard a car door slam. First one, then another, then another. Most likely, it was Kathy. I'd gotten used to her routines, too. First she gets out, then she gets Ashley out of the back, then she gets the diaper bag out. When I heard the key in the lock, I placed the pen on the paper, folded it in half, and dumped out the residue of my coffee mug in the sink.
When I heard the door slam, I yelled out behind me, "Hello, gorgeous."
"Hey, yourself, hot stuff," came Justin's reply as poked his head around my shoulder and gave me a peck on the cheek.
"Curly!" I smiled, pleasantly surprised. Turning around, I saw the other guys filing towards the door. Chris headed straight for the fridge. Joey walked up to me and bear-hugged me, lifting me off the ground. "I've missed you, too, Joe," I grunted. Lance sat down at the table and started picking up where I'd left off on the crossword puzzle. I just shook my head.
"What?" Joey asked.
"Creatures of habit," I grinned.
"Huh?" Chris asked, returning the orange juice carton to the fridge.
"Never mind," I smiled. Then I saw him. He was setting his keys on the dining room table next to mine as he walked from the hallway. He folded his arms, leaned against the doorframe, and smiled. I pushed my way past Joey and Justin and kissed him. I slid my hand under his shirt and rested it on his chest, just above his heart. He uncrossed his arms and ran one hand down the small of my back into the waist of my pants--the only thing I was wearing.
"Hey!" Chris shouted, "We do not need to see that!"
"Then shut your eyes," JC told them before I had a chance to get a word in.
"I didn't know you guys were coming back this early today," I purred in JC's ear as I squeezed him tightly.
"Figured I'd surprise you when you got home from work," he smiled. "These knuckleheads insisted on coming along."
"What guys?" I grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.
"Did you say something?" he grinned back.
"Okay, you clowns, that's our cue to go into the den and watch television," Lance chuckled, tucking the newspaper under his arm and grabbing Joey by the sleeve and Chris by the ear.
"But I don't want to watch television," Chris protested in his most childish voice.
"Fine, then watch me watch television," Joey told him after smacking him on the back of the head.
Justin just shook his head and smiled by the sink. He walked over to us and placed a hand on both of our backs. "Want us to disappear for a while?"
I shook my head and smiled. "Nope, just stay out of the bedroom."
"You got it," he grinned, trailing behind the others.
"I thought I'd get to surprise you," JC pretended to pout, kissing the nape of my neck.
"I took the day off so I'd be here when you got in and not dead on my feet," I moaned softly, arching my neck back.
"Guess we both had the same idea, huh?"
"Guess so," I agreed before kissing him.
After a few moments of that, he entwined his fingers behind my back and pulled me close. "How did things go with Rich?"
"They went," I half-smiled. "He left . . . again."
"Are you okay?" he asked, bringing up a hand to brush my hair out of my face, concerned.
I smiled and kissed his chin. "Better than I've ever been in my entire life."
He smiled. "Are you mad at him?"
I shook my head. "Disappointed, but not mad. I tried to be angry at him--I really did--but there was a time when he was my best friend."
"And now?"
"Now, you're my best friend," I told him, leaning into him and pushing him towards the bedroom.
TO BE CONTINUED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
HA! I fooled you--no cliffhanger :) I resisted the urge.
All comments are welcome at: m_n_hunter@hotmail.com.