Eight Days a Week (16 page)

“Yours, too.” We kissed once before I pulled away and handed her the wet sponge.

I could feel her watching me until I closed the basement door.

“Marlowe, answer your damn phone. I’m getting worried about you and . . .” I pressed my hand to my eye. “Just call me.”

I dropped the phone onto the table in frustration. I’d been to Monkey Joe’s every day that week, but she’d never shown up. It took all my willpower to tamp down the urge to go to her house and bang on the door.

The phone buzzed, and I jumped, scrambling to catch it before it fell onto the floor. “Marlowe?” I said, a wave of relief hitting me while I sank down in my chair.

“Hey, Andrew.” She sounded tired.

“Why haven’t you been picking up your phone?”

“Um, listen. I’m packing up. I’m moving back to Nebraska.”

“Whoa. Wait just a second. You’re leaving? Just like that?”
 

“Trust me, it’s best for everyone involved.”

“Do you need a place to stay?”

“That’s nice of you to offer. But I think it would be best for me to leave.”

I shook my head. “Will you at least tell me why?”

“I made a mistake. A huge one.” Marlowe sighed. “It’s never a good idea to fall in love with your boss.”

It felt like she’d shoved a dagger into my heart, and I held my breath as she continued.

“But you’ll be great, Andrew. You
are
great. Look how far you’ve come already, right?” She sniffed. “I’m still here if you need me, I just won’t be
here
.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You, too. I have to go. I’ll call you from home.”

She hung up, and I sat numb and motionless, staring at the table. I checked my watch and slumped back in the chair, running my hands over my face to focus. It was Friday, I had thirty minutes to get ready, and I needed as much time as I could get to put myself in the right frame of mind for the evening.

I washed up, distracted by the feeling of loneliness and loss. Of confusion. Of helplessness at being unable to help her. All the
feeling
shit was making me crazy in the head.

On autopilot, I buttoned my white shirt and tied my thick plaid tie. My date had said jeans were acceptable for the evening, and I was grateful. I hated wearing dress pants. I was surprised she was allowing me to be so casual, but I took any liberty I could get.

The house was quiet when I walked through the kitchen and toward the dining room, plastering a smile on my face as I crested the door. Bree was seated on the side of the table, her hands folded primly on top of it and her face glowing in the candlelight.

“Hi,” I said.

She smiled wide and sat up straighter.

“Where’s my seat?”
 

She pointed to the head of the table, and I nodded before pulling out my chair and sinking into it. The length of the table was covered in a white lace runner, and there were delicate little fake china plates and cups set at all four placemats. In the middle of the table was a platter of finger sandwiches and cookies.

A rustle of material and footsteps on the staircase caught my attention, and then Gwen swirled into the room holding Brady’s hand. He smiled at me and I returned it. They’d been upstairs putting gel in his hair, and it looked just like mine.

Gwen grinned when she saw that I noticed. She was wearing a strapless white dress that fell above her knees. Brady was in a white button-up shirt and jeans, like me. Bree’s pink dress was frilly, and she played with the big, poufy skirt while Gwen and Brady took their seats.

“Thanks for coming to my tea party,” Bree said.

Gwen filled Bree’s cup and then the rest of ours. Brady made a face and sat back in his chair with his arms folded.
 

“Gwoss.”

“It’s tea. You drink
iced
tea all the time,” Bree said, her little eyes narrowing.

“Dude,” I said, and he looked up at me. “You have to drink the tea to eat the cookies.”

His mouth opened in an
O
of understanding, and he sat up straight again.

Gwen covered her mouth to hide her giggles, and we all sipped in silence. Then Bree instructed us to eat the sandwiches and cookies, and we made polite conversation about our days. Afterward, Brady decided he’d endured enough girliness, and he scooted off his chair to go watch television.

Bree heaved an overdramatic sigh and shook her head. “Boys.”

Gwen and I laughed while Bree crossed her arms.

“Okay,” Gwen said. “I think we should get things cleaned up. Are you still hungry?”

“No. I’m kinda tired,” Bree said.

“I can take care of this while you go get ready for bed,” I said, motioning to the table. They both smiled, and Bree hopped off her chair and skipped over to me. I turned in my seat, and she gave me a hug.

“Thanks for being my date again,” she said, and I kissed her head.

“My pleasure. I was definitely a better date than Brady.”

Gwen laughed and shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Brady’s chin hitting his chest as he struggled to stay awake. She pulled him from the couch and walked both of them up the stairs to get ready for bed. I cleared the table and wiped it down, listening while Gwen bathed Brady and Bree got ready in her room.

“Dee!” Brady yelled from upstairs.

I ran up the stairs and into his room. “Something wrong?”

“Just wanned to say ’night.”

I went to his bed and made sure his covers were tight. “G’night, li’l man.”
 

He grinned and turned on his side before placing his hands under his cheek and closing his eyes.

I shut his door behind me and headed toward the landing as Gwen came out of Bree’s room.
 

“Thanks for doing that,” she said. “I know it was girlie. But she needed it this week.”

“I know.”

She stood a few feet away, but neither of us made a move. Then she glanced toward her room and blushed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. Good night.”
 

I watched silently as she turned and walked into her room before closing the door securely behind her.

Chapter 20

Golden Slumbers

She disappeared behind the master bedroom door, and I stood in the hallway, staring at it.

I wanted her, and I was tired of waiting. She’d given all the signs that she wanted it, too. I needed to feel close to her, to feel like I was part of something solid. We were good together. I was in if she was in. The kids weren’t the problem, I was sure of it. I wasn’t going anywhere, and I just needed to tell her that.

Pacing the hallway, I rubbed the back of my neck, breathing deep and talking myself out of knocking on her door. Then the water started in her bathroom, and my resolve snapped.
 

I knocked softly, but there was no response, so I cracked open the door and peered inside. Her bedroom was empty, and I crept over to stand just outside her bathroom door.

I could hear everything in there like it was acoustically set to echo into the bedroom and make my life a living hell. She got into the tub, and I knew the exact moment she slid under the water and came back up.

Part of me wanted to leave and give her some privacy. But that piece blacked out when I heard her moan.

For a second I thought I’d imagined it, but the water was sloshing and she moaned again, louder and longer. I swallowed back a groan and, to keep from opening the door, shoved my hands into my pockets. That was a mistake, because I was growing harder by the second and my hand was at just the right angle to grip Don through my jeans pocket.

“Leave,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. And somehow I managed to find the strength to turn around and walk two steps before she cried out my name.

I knew that sound because I’d heard it before. Twice.

So I did the only thing I could—locked the door and sat on her bed to wait. I had plenty of time to picture her in multiple positions on the very bed I was perched on. This would be it—there could be no turning back. Tonight all the bullshit would stop, and I’d have her.

Don was practically begging me to pull him out and give him some air.

My heart stopped when I heard the doorknob rattle, and then it restarted too fast and thundered against my sternum. She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a thick white towel, her hair glistening and wet, her skin pink from the too-hot water. She was pale and perfect. And I wanted to attack her.

She gasped and slapped her hand to her chest. “What—don’t you knock?” Her voice wavered.

“You’re one to talk about knocking. I figured we had an open door policy in this house, what with your coming and going from my place as you please.”

Gwen’s cheeks flooded with color, and her gaze scanned the floor. “How long have you been in here?”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Not long.”

Sweet. Good job.

Her mouth twitched, and she looked up at me again. “You’re a pretty bad liar.” She pressed her hands to her face and let out a shy laugh.

I stood and stepped toward her, and she crossed her hands over the top of her towel. My feet stopped just short of her toes, and I leaned in close to her ear. “I had to stop myself from breaking down the door so I could watch you make yourself come while you said my name.”
 

She gasped as I breathed against the side of her neck.
 

“Do you know how hot that is, Gwen? To picture you touching yourself and thinking of me?”

“No.” She dropped her hands to her sides.

I gripped her wrist and ran my thumb across the pulse point and over her palm before spreading her fingers. She stood still while I pressed her open hand to my zipper.

“This is what you do to me.” I trailed my nose across her neck and behind her ear then darted my tongue out for a taste. My confession crept along her skin, warm breath settling into cool air until her skin erupted in goose bumps. “I need to feel what it’s like to be inside you.”

Her fingers flexed and tightened around my bulge. “Me, too.”

“Don’t think about it. Don’t say no.”

I cupped her cheeks, and her skin was flushed. Her eyes were dilated, and my reflection was buried among the specks of gray around her pupils. I licked my lips and kissed her, slipping my hands down her neck and across her shoulders before brushing my thumbs across the top of her towel.

I yanked at the terrycloth and let it fall away in a pile on the floor. And there she was, beautiful and naked, just like I’d pictured for so long. Just like the vision I’d dreamt of and come to multiple times.

Reining in the fierce instinct to shove her onto the bed and assault her with my mouth, I nudged her until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she fell onto the comforter. I towered over her, raising my eyebrows.

“Take your clothes off,” she whispered, settling herself up against the pillows.
 

My shirt was already unbuttoned at the top with the tie hanging around my neck from the inner battle I’d waged in the hallway. After slipping the tie over my head, I flung it across the room and then concentrated on opening each of the buttons. She watched while I worked my fingers across the holes then shrugged it off, pulled my T-shirt over my head, and dropped it to the floor.

She sucked in a deep breath and trained her eyes on my stomach. They trailed lower as I dropped my hand to my belt and pulled the buckle open. My thumb popped the top button of my jeans with ease, and the zipper teeth clicked apart as I pulled down the tab and felt the fly release. She bit her lip while I shoved the denim down, along with my boxers, and stepped out of them to become just as naked as she was.

She pressed her knees together and slid her hands across the comforter.
 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” I asked before kissing her knee.

“No.” She closed her eyes for a moment.

I moved my hands up both her calves. “You are so beautiful, Gwen. Open these for me.”