Inconvenient Wife Page 16

  A feather light touch traces slowly up and down my spine .

  I’m still inside her. And it hits me that we didn’t use protection. I was so lost in wanting to be inside her, I didn’t even pause. I know she’s on the pill, but still, we should have discussed it. God, but it felt so good to be bare. So good to be inside her. So right, so intimate. So …

  Jesus Christ, I just slept with Gracie .

  22

  Beau

  I ’m lying on top of my best friend, cradled between her thighs. We’re naked .

  My whole body tenses .

  Gracie’s finger on my back stops tracing .

  “Guess you’re about to have the expected freak out?” she asks .

  I lift up onto my elbows and try to relax. “I must be squashing you.” Meeting her green eyes, I see amusement and a tiny bit of awe .

  What just happened all comes back to me and it gives me something to focus on, other than the fact I just crossed the line so damn far. “So you came, huh?” I can’t help asking like a smug motherfucker .

  She nods, biting her lower lip and fighting a smile .

  And damn if I can’t help smiling too .

  “Did you ?” she asks cheekily and I bark out a laugh .

  Then I add, “I’m sorry .”

  She frowns. “What for ?”

  “I know you’re on the pill. And not that you would know this, but you should know I always use condoms. Always. It’s been drilled into me by my father and my grandfather since before I knew what sex was .”

  “But not with me, huh ?”

  “No comment,” I say because how can I explain that I’ve never in my life lost myself so completely with someone that I wouldn’t have been able to say my name in that moment, let alone think about protection. I have no intention of examining why either. It happened, that was that .

  I’m sure it has to do with the fact I feel so close her, that the connection had just hit harder. Deeper .

  “So what happened to the pool party?” I change the subject. “Changed your mind?” A thought occurred to me. “Shit, where’s Derek?” If I wasn’t already softening, I would have shriveled. I glance over my shoulder, half expecting him to walk in .

  “He cancelled .”

  “Oh.” I feel relief quickly followed by irritation. “Lucky me.” I lever myself off her and sit up, reaching for my swim shorts .

  Her warm hand settles on my forearm. “Actually, it was lucky me,” she says softly. “I’m glad he couldn’t make it. I think it would have been the last time anyway .”

  “Why?” I glance at her .

  She shrugs. “These things run their course .”

  “They do,” I agreed .

  We look at each other for a few moments. She rolls onto her side and props her head up. Her damp blonde hair has been drying during our wild encounter and it’s the very definition of bed head. “You have sex hair,” I tell her and pull one of the curls, letting it spring back. “So when we leave this apartment, this never happened, right?” I want her to confirm her rules again. “No consequences. No expectations. That’s what you said, right ?”

  I already know from the clenching in my gut when I think about being inside her, that I want to do it again. But I can behave. I stuffed my sexual attraction to her in a box when I was a teenager, I can do it again. If she’s adamant it doesn’t change anything, I can do that. I need to do that because the alternative, that I might lose her as a friend, doesn’t bear thinking about. How we play the next few minutes, the next few days and weeks, could change everything .

  I can’t believe I was so reckless .

  She looks away .

  “What?” I ask .

  “I think the girls found you a solution. It’s in your email. I checked with Derek, he knows her and he said it’s a legitimate option .”

  My throat feels like it has a rock in it. I swallow, and it fills my stomach. I know this is what Gwen wants. For me to marry someone else, not her .

  “Why do you want me to find someone else so badly ?”

  She frowns. “You want to. I offered to help. I’m just trying to help you .”

  “But why ?”

  “I want you to be happy,” she says. “You’ve been wanting to build boats since my dad helped you build your first Pollywog .”

  “I still have that Pollywog .”

  She smiles and her eyes grow distant. She’s probably remembering the times we’d go out with a six pack of beer and fish in the creeks until after dark. It drove both our fathers’ crazy, but I’d built it myself. It was mine, and they couldn’t take it away from me .

  “So did us having sex answer your question ?”

  I must look confused .

  She rolls her eyes. “Earlier in the bathroom, you said something about if twenty years of friendship was about to end, we should answer the question once and for all .”

  “Oh.” I chuckled. “You had to know I had the hots for you when I was sixteen. I’d always wanted to know what it would be like between us .”

  She pulls the edge of the comforter over herself and lies back, covering her eyes with her forearm. “And ?”

  “And it was amazing. Obviously .”

  She breathes out slowly. “So is our friendship over then? Is that what finally made you make a move on me.” Her voice is flat. “Is your curiosity satisfied now ?”

  “What? No, our friendship isn’t over,” I argue. Then doubts crowd in. God. “Is it ?”

  She doesn’t move and doesn’t uncover her eyes .

  “Is it over for you?” I ask, my chest feeling tight, my deepest fears crowding to the surface .

  She shakes her head. “No .”

  I grab her hand off her eyes. “You scared me .”

  She blinks and we stare at each other. Her green eyes are luminous, alive, and languid in equal measure. “But, we’re both going to have to try hard here not to let it ruin everything,” she says, mirroring my thoughts exactly .

  “So what now?” I ask .

  “Now I really need a shower. You may as well check your email. And we try to forget what happened here .”

  But now I know what I was missing, and it is going to be pretty fucking hard to forget .

  * * *

  I settle in on Gwen’s couch while she showers. It’s a colossal effort not to go in there and join her. I mean, do we have to forget about it right this second? The truth is I haven’t had enough. What if … I shake my head. Get a grip, man .

  I replay my decision to come here today. I’d had enough of the weird week and not seeing her. I figured I’d see her with Derek at the pool party, and everything would slip back to normal .

  Not once have I thought I might be jealous seeing her with someone else. I couldn’t possibly be jealous. The last hour notwithstanding, there is no evidence over the last decades to indicate I would be. Then again, had Gwen ever really had a serious boyfriend? The immediate answer is no. I haven’t had a serious girlfriend either. Neither of us have ever really been put to the test .

  I guess we really do take up a large portion of each other’s lives .

  When I got here and she was making that ridiculous excuse about her bikini, she just looked so flushed, and so turned on, and so fucking sexy. My mind had gone there, and I couldn’t reel it back in .

  Scrolling through my emails, I try to concentrate and ignore the sound of the shower. I see the forwarded email from Gwen and click on it. Lt. Marjorie Smith does seem normal. I decide to send her an email right away before I talk myself out of it. I tell her I think her situation seems like it would suit mine. I explain my predicament and offer to match whatever background checks she needs that I’ve asked of her so we’re both on the same page about the other. I can’t believe this is my life. Marrying a stranger, that I haven’t even met .

  Then I Google Flathead, Montana and the place Gwen’s email said offers proxy marriages. I can’t believe it’s legal, but sure enough, it is .

  The show
er turns off .

  Visions of Gracie’s slick, wet, body wrapped in a towel flits through my head. I clear my throat and force the thoughts away. But not before I feel a stab of lust in my gut that almost steals my breath. Squeezing my eyes closed a second, I shake my head. Shit. This is going to be difficult .

  I look over the requirements of getting married. For a double proxy where neither of us has to be there, one member has to be in the US military. Done. How is this for real? I forward the website to Daisy, getting her email address from one of the emails she sent me from her account. She’s a paralegal, she’ll be able to double check the legality .

  If it is, I think this could actually work. I wait to feel the bubble of excitement or satisfaction in my gut that tells me everything will be okay, that I could be weeks away from setting up shop, and it doesn’t come. In fact, my stomach turns over more and more uncomfortably .

  The rest of the emails from applicants aren’t even worth the seconds spent speed-reading them. Each one makes me feel worse and worse. After the doggy sexual assault episode the other night I had preliminary phone calls with just two other women and rejected them immediately. Gwen can’t accuse me of not trying. That was giving it a fair shot as far as I’m concerned .

  “Hey, you want to go back down to the pool?” Gwen calls. “Just deciding whether to put on a swim suit or shorts .”

  So she’s naked. Great. I wince. “What do you want to do ?”

  There’s a long silence .

  A silence I fill with wishful thinking of her asking me to spend the afternoon fucking her silly. I mean we’ve done it now. We’ve crossed the line. What would it hurt to do it again? And again? I’m so hard, I could hit a home run .

  Which is impossible .

  I’m never ready to go again so soon. I’m usually out the door, or asleep. But never ready to do it again .

  I spread my legs and hang my head between them, careful not to give myself a black eye. Maybe I can get some blood flowing into my damn common sense brain cells instead of it pooling between my legs .

  Gwen coughs .

  I look up and make sure my hands are nonchalantly covering the rogue part of my body. She’s back in her signature denim cut offs and a pale green tank that makes her skin glow and her eyes look like beach glass. Her blonde hair is smoothed into a low bun. I know she does this so her hair will dry straight around her face. I think after seeing it wild and wavy in bed, I know which way I prefer it .

  “Uh. Actually, I should probably go down to the boat shop this afternoon,” she says. “Dad is still not feeling well .”

  “Gracie,” I start, my voice husky. But I’m not sure what I need to say .

  Her lips quirk into an odd smile .

  “What?” I ask .

  “You’re still here .”

  I stand, and my feet are moving before I realize I’ve made my mind up. “Yeah,” I say and head toward her .

  “I didn’t think you would be. I thought you’d freak out .”

  “I am freaking out,” I say calmly. “I’m freaking out,” I take her hand and press it against me, making her breath hitch and her eyes flare, “because this doesn’t seem to be going away.” I lean down and press my lips to hers .

  “Did your grandfather leave you his Viagra too?” she quips .

  “Funny,” I answer and kiss her again .

  “This is a really bad idea .”

  “Terrible,” I agree and slip my hands around her waist .

  She clutches my forearms .

  “But we’ve already crossed the line,” I try out my argument. “While we’re still here today, in this apartment …”

  She blows out a shaky breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them, I see sadness, annoyance, and longing. “No. Beau. Let’s not make this worse. We’ve already complicated things enough. We can pretend we were caught up from all the craziness this week. We can pretend we were motivated by the panic of maybe losing our friendship. We can pretend losing your grandfather has made you crazy. We can pretend I was planning on having sex today anyway .”

  I narrow my eyes .

  “We can pretend I had too many mimosas this morning.” She shrugs. “But if we do it again, we’re going to have to ask hard questions. And it’s going to fuck everything up .”

  “Did you ?”

  “Did I what ?”

  “Did you have too many drinks?” I ask, letting go of her and stalking toward the balcony windows .

  “I had a few. I wasn’t impaired. I knew exactly what I was doing. But you know what I mean .”

  “I don’t. I have no excuses, Gracie. For why I did what I did. I don’t even know why I kissed you a few days ago. I didn’t plan on it. I swear. And I didn’t plan today.” I rub a hand down my face. I feel lost, but I can’t say that out loud. I feel like I’m on the cusp of making a massive mistake, though there’s no clear right or wrong .

  “I know.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have any excuses either,” she says, but the words don’t ring true .

  “Did you sleep with me because you were already planning to fuck Derek today?” I don’t mean the question to come out of my mouth so sharp. So callous. So angry sounding. But I hate what that thought does to me. The thought she was turned on and I just happened to show up. I look away before she can see anything in my expression. I have to let it go, I tell myself. I’m acting like a suspicious boyfriend. A jerk .

  “No,” she says. “Of course not .”

  “Sorry. That was a dick thing to suggest.” I grit my teeth, and school my expression before I face her again. “I sent an email to Marjorie Smith .”

  “Oh.” She nods. “Good. That’s good. Seems to be a perfect solution .”

  “If all goes well, we could be married within a week. I had a look around on that website. They do a lot of work for the military .”

  “A week.” She swallows so thickly, I can see her throat move from across the room. “That’s, um, fast .”

  “Might as well get on with it, right ?”

  “Right.”

  23

  Gwen

  I turned the water scalding hot and then ice cold in an effort to ground myself. My body was sated, yet jittery with spent adrenaline .

  Leaning against the cold tile shower wall, I replayed the last hour. God, the feel of Beau’s mouth on me and the way he loved me with his mouth, his hands … I shuddered in remembrance, hot and achy all over again. How had he known what I needed to hear? Trust … and how it was just him, and I could trust him, how much he was enjoying it, how …

  “I’m doing it for me, not you, Gracie.” The echo of his voice and his words wrapped around my gut. With those simple words he changed the whole dynamic to mirror our friendship. To my comfort zone. The place where I loved him. The place where he needed me and I willingly gave. Always. It was the same place that allowed me to help him find a wife even though I loved him myself .

  In that one moment, he’d loved me too. Beyond the love of mere friendship. But he didn’t know and didn’t recognize it in himself. Sex had always been easy for Beau. He was so good at compartmentalizing that even though his women-he-had-sex-with category had just clearly blown up the women-I-am-only-friends-with category, me , I knew he would reinforce those boundaries and the episode would be relegated to an aberration. There was no way he’d shift his entire paradigm of thinking .

  In fact, there was a high possibility he’d finally freaked out and already left the apartment. To be honest, it was why I took such a long shower. But even if he was still in my living room, I told myself, it didn’t mean anything. The freak out could happen in hours or days, but I knew it would happen .

  I’d seen it happen with other girls, as soon as they started to give even a tiny hint of being serious, he would shut the whole thing down. It was cold and it was absolute. And of course, they mostly always blamed me, though not in so many words .

  I turned the shower off and headed into the bedroom. The sight of my rum
pled bed made my belly fizz. I called out to Beau, asking about his plans to see if he was still here. When he answered back, I was surprised. Getting dressed, I gave myself a mental pep talk in the mirror to try and keep my guard up out there so I could minimize the effect his freak out and distancing would have on me when it finally came. I was going to have to work doubly hard to get us back on track .

  If I could just get him to the marina the two of us could get busy working on the boat, and we’d be back to working side by side. That would help. I texted Penny to let her know I’d had to go in to help my dad and asked her to bring my bag up from the pool. It only held bottled water, sunscreen, and a towel, so there was no rush .

  * * *

  Working on the boat did help .

  By four o’clock that afternoon, we were chatting and joking, and things had mostly returned to normal. I said mostly, because it was very difficult not to watch his hands and fingers sometimes and remember where they’d touched me earlier and how they’d coaxed an elusive orgasm out of me. For that matter, if I accidentally caught Beau concentrating on something, his brow furrowed, the pink of his tongue wetting his lips, I’d get a vision of him between my legs, so intent, so focused, even while his eyes had looked dilated and drugged .

  Had he felt drugged on me ?

  Shit. It was like being soaked in gasoline with a lit match hovering near me about to send me up in flames .

  Time, I thought. I needed time. Eventually, these memories of how he made me shudder and beg would fade. What wouldn’t fade was how those feelings had permanently cracked the seal on place where I kept my feelings for him .

  But I would ignore it .

  I had to .

  I looked up, feeling the weight of Beau staring at me .

  He looked away, and I thought maybe I imagined it .

  I sang along to Rod Stewart’s entire A Night on the Town album as we worked .