Page 74 of Tell Me You Love Me

“We don’t talk about the husband?” Taunting, like he enjoys seeing me sweat through my shirt, Chris drops to his feet and follows me across the kitchen to hover near my shoulder. “Pretty sure, here in the Plainview, the fact she’s married to someone else, but banging my brother, is actually illegal. You want Ollie’s dad to come over here and lock her up for her adulterous actions?”

“It’s not adultery.” I shove him back and watch through the glass panes of my door as Alana and Franky climb out of their car. “They’re separated, so shut the fuck up.”

“She’s married.” He taunts, whistling under his breath. “Do you ever feel like there was a glitch in time? Like, we saw Ollie get older. And Eliza. You and me. We saw it all, so it’s fine. But she bolted at eighteen and came back at twenty-eight. It’s like the ten years between didn’t exist.”

“Shush. They’re coming up the stairs.”

“And of course, they did exist. Since that’s when she grew up and got hitched and all that. My logical brain knows it. But sometimes, when I’m not concentrating, I forget. So then I’m surprised when I see her again.”

“Yep. Now shut up.” I rearrange my expression and paste on a friendly smile, then I open the door before they get a chance to knock, looking to Franky first and the little chessboard he carries tucked under his arm. “Hey.” I set my hands on my hips and wait for his hazel eyes.

If he was a toddler, I’d get down on his level, crouching so I’m not towering over him. But he’s not a toddler. He’s not fully grown, either. He’s in this weird in-between age, and I figure, if I try to crouch, or God forbid, bend at the hips and fold myself in half, he might pop me in the facewith the same jab I’ve been teaching him down at the gym. “You brought your own chessboard? We have one if you wanna try ours.”

“I like mine.” He studies me through dirty lenses. “Mine’s magnetized, so the pieces don’t accidentally fall over.”

“Smart. Thanks for coming.”

“It’s okay. Did you start cooking yet?”

“Franklin,” Alana warns in a murmur. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’ve got the grill already warming,” I tell him. “Just as soon as we’re ready, we can toss the steaks on. Then, ten minutes after that, it’s time to eat. You hungry?”

He merely shrugs, peeking past me and smiling at my brother.

I mean, it’s not like I think he hates me or anything. But damn, he for sure prefers Chris’ company.

“We had a snack at three,” Alana fills in when Franky wanders through the open door. She links unadorned fingers in front of her sundress and anxiously fidgets. “We’re not starving. But we’re ready to eat when you are.”

“You look pretty.” I step forward instead of back, and surprise her when I pull the door closed behind me. Then I take her hand in mine and bring it up.

She’s made a change, amassivechange, and my obsessed brain can’t help but notice. “You took your ring off.”

“Oh…” Nervous, she nibbles on her lip. “Yeah. I’ve mailed it back to Colin.”

“He asked for it back?” That cheapskate motherfucker. Now he’s gonna nickel and dime her all the way through divorce. “Aren’t rings a gift? They don’t have to be returned.”

“I wanted to.” She draws a breath, filling her lungs and expanding her chest. Then, exhaling again, she brings her eyes up and rewards me with a sweet smile. “I suppose you’re probably intent on hating Colin. He’s the villain in your story.”

“Obviously.” I draw her closer and slide my hand around to rest on the small of her back.Mine. Mine. All mine.“He kinda swooped in and married the girl I was gonna marry. Gonna be honest; felt a little unfair to me.”

I lean in, intending to take her lips with mine, but she backs away and gives me her cheek instead.

Ouch.

“Colin isn’t the bad guy, Tommy.” She reaches around and grabs mywrist, peeling my hand away from her body. I could stop her. I’m stronger. But there hasn’t been a single moment in our lives when she couldn’t control me, body and soul. “He’s actually a really decent guy. He’s very kind. Generous. Sweet.”

“Forgive me for not giving a shit about the guy who stole the woman I loved. If he was so generous, he’d understand the tradition of wedding rings. As in, they’re intended to be a safety net for women in the event of separation. You’re supposed to sell the ring and use that money to support yourself.”

“I don’t need that money to support myself, and the ring belonged to his mother and grandmother. It’s only right that I send it back.” She attempts to step around me. “Should we go in?”

“Thirty more seconds.” I yank her back and bury my nose in her hair, right where I smell lavender most. “I can’t touch you in front of Franky, so I just need?—”

“You shouldn’t touch me at all.” She slips out of my reach again, robbing me of what I want so desperately to have. Smell. Taste. But she takes my hand, at least, twining her fingers between mine and looking up into my eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“You said that last time.” I press a kiss to her wrist and grin when her thundering pulse pounds against my lips. “You say no, but then you sayyes. Then you try to backtrack to how we should just be friends and?—”

“And how it would be best for you to see me as a friend.” Gently, she peels her hand free of mine and destroys me with pity in her eyes.

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