Page 49 of Castling the Rook (Checkmate 3)

“I’m so fucking hungry. It’s late, and I haven’t had anything but an apple and shitty little snacks all day. I missed lunch, had an apple for dinner. I’m at a point now that I’d eat the chicken raw if I have to. So this is what we get; fried chicken, salad, wine.”

“Sex.” She straightens out and puckers her lips.

Laughing, I oblige and beg my heart to stop being a dick with the cartwheels and shit. She’s just a girl, she’ssupervocal about non-commitment,andshe’s flying home tomorrow. I need to get my shit under control, because it was fun while it lasted, but this is the end of the road for us.

You have one last night, Cruz. Enjoy it, because there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll sneak out before the sun comes up and disappear forever.

“So… Seriously though, when do you think you’ll be back?”

Dammit, Riley!

She sips her wine and hides a sneaky grin behind the lip of her glass. Comfortable in my tank while she scratches Ninja’s ears, this beautiful woman sits in my kitchen and makes me yearn for something I wasn’t sure I wanted all that long ago. Hell, I’m still not sure what I want, but Iamsure that when she disappears at some point tonight, I’m gonna miss her, and it hurts knowing she won’t miss me back.

“I really don’t know my plans right now,” she answers. “I have to go home and figure out my work situation, because I left last weekend without Mia’s permission.”

“You didn’t ask for leave?”

“I asked.” She sets the wine down with a snap. “I truly did. I tried to play nice, I explained what I needed and why I needed to take leave. It’s not like I’m over here partying; the kids needed me, but Mia’s a bitch with an overabundance of yeast in her vagina, and an inability to pull the granny panties out of her ass crack.”

“Wow.” I scrunch my nose. “You know how to paint a picture. You could’ve just said she disallowed your leave, but now I’m thinking of bread and mold and other disgusting shit.”

“Right?” She thrusts her hand into the air like I made her point. “She’s a horrible boss, and she holds a mean grudge. But I have clients first thing Monday, so I need to go home and get my life in order, talk Mia off the ledge, perhaps apply for unemployment if she’s gone full postal. Then I need to clean out my fridge because Ijustremembered I left raw chicken to thaw last weekend. Dammit.”

Chuckling, I move back to the fridge to collect ingredients for a salad. I’m not going fancy, because I might die if I don’t eat soon, so I just grab a lettuce, cheese, onion, and tomatoes, then Dijon mustard, garlic, and lemon for the dressing. The chicken stops sizzling, and when Andi stands, washes her hands at the sink, then pulls out a plate and roll of paper towels, I have to count my breaths and not freak out about how beautiful she looks in my kitchen.

Fuck her for being so cool about us.

Fuck her for looking so good.

Fuck her for cramming herself up in my heart and still planning to leave tomorrow.

Snapping off a square of paper towel, she takes over my tongs and transfers chicken to paper to absorb the excess oil. I stand on the opposite end of the counter and chop lettuce. My hands are on cold salad, but my eyes are on her slender neck. Creamy white skin, and the cute diamonds in her ears.

I can’t even buy her something nice without risking an explosive freak out.

I study her concert t-shirt –myconcert t-shirt – and the tiny boy short panties she wears beneath. I didn’t want her to put them on again when we came out, but she’d already started tripping into them, and I didn’t want to sound like a freak by asking. If she wanted to walk around my house in panties – or nothing – I wouldn’t be mad.

“Are you happy to be going home, Dee? Miss it?”

Shrugging, she pops her thumb between her lips when she burns it on hot chicken. “I’m…ambivalentabout it. I like my life there. I like living alone, being single, coming and going as I please. I get to eat cereal five nights in a row if I want, and I don’t have to feel bad that I didn’t cook. I get to order takeout and not worry about ordering something for anyone else.” Her eyes meet mine. “I’m a selfish person, Riley, and I’m not sorry for it. I like not having to care about anyone else, I love having my own space.” She pauses with a thoughtful nod. “But I’ll miss my kids. I’ll miss Lindsi and Oz. I’ll miss their beautiful house, and the homosexual deer in the backyard. I’ll miss this town, because the people that live here are really nice and act like I’m their friend just because Lindsi’s their friend.” She gives a shy shrug and adds, “I’ll miss you, too. You’re a good friend to have, Riley. I judged you at the wedding. I judged on preconceptions I’d made without even knowing you, and it makes me sad I could have missed out on our fun this week because I was being a judgmental twat.”

I toss shredded lettuce into a bowl and frown. “Your place is a hell of a long way from mine.”

Contemplative, she nods and wipes her hands on a towel. “It’s a really long way away. Not cheap or easy to come back often. And I’m not rich, so I had to sell my private jet.”

“So, I guess, after tomorrow…”

Placing one hand on the counter, she turns and nods. “Yeah, it’s gonna be tricky after tomorrow. I’m not holding you to anything, Riley. We’re not together, I’m not asking you to date only your hand when I’m gone. So…” Her long lashes kiss her cheeks. “Friends?”

What she actually means is she’s not holdingherselfto anything. That she intends to date. That she intends to have fun and continue her life exactly the way it was before she ever met me. “Friends.” I look back to my salad and pretend her words don’t hurt.

I didn’t fool myself into expecting a commitment, but thinking of her all the way over there, sitting in her apartment, kissing dates at the door – and so much more – makes me sick to my fucking stomach. “Yeah… Friends.”

“Can I call you sometimes when I’m gone?” She nibbles on her bottom lip and bounces her hip off the counter. “I might miss you a little bit, and I bet you know how to talk filthy over the phone. We could keep in contact, so I could let you know when I’m coming to town to visit my babies. Then you can clear the floozies out of your calendar and make room for me.”

“I don’t have floozies in my calendar.” I drizzle salad dressing over the lettuce and avoid her eyes. “I don’t date idiots. But, yeah… text me sometimes, but not when you have guys around you. I don’t wanna hear about them.”

She gives a shy smile. “Except Timmy, my war hero. I’ll probably tell you about him, because he’s so handsome and strong. If he was fifty years younger…”

“Nope.” Smiling again, I slide the now full bowl of salad across the counter until it taps her arm. “I don’t wanna hear about him either.” Collecting plates from the cabinet above the fridge, I walk them to the table in the center of my dining room and set them out across from each other. “You should know, twenty-eight, or eighty-eight; a guy’s still a guy, and Timmy’s still got a dick. Don’t for a second think he hasn’t thought about fucking you against a wall, Dee.”

Scandalized, she spins to catch my eyes. “He has not!”

“I guarantee he has.” I pull a chair out and wait for her. “He’s a guy, he’s got a dick, and you look so fucking delicious.” I take the bowl of salad to free up her hands. “I promise, I’ll still be thinking about fucking you when I’m eighty-eight.”

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