Love Me Like That (9 page)

I’m almost giddy at the sight of him. Spending practically the entire day with very limited human interaction was horrible. I never do that. I seek others out, either at the bar or at the gym. I don’t have to talk to people necessarily but I seem to gravitate to situations where there’s a chance of holding a conversation should I feel so inclined.

I don’t say a word to him as we sit at the table, and he pours me a glass of wine. I’m not much of a wine drinker but it’s courteous, so I thank him and take the glass.

I clear my throat. “I want to apologize about last night.” I keep my eyes on my plate, hoping the lack of eye contact will make this less awkward. “I shouldn’t have…” why is this so hard? “I never should have kissed you.”

He doesn’t answer so I look up at him. He has an eyebrow raised at me.

“What?” I ask not sure I want to know the answer.

He shakes his head slightly. “It’s a little insulting. Sitting here and having you tell me you didn’t want to kiss me.”

I laugh softly. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to kiss you,” I qualify. “I said I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Not much difference from where I’m sitting.”

Do I tell him what I’m running from? Would he even care?

I feel the need to explain why I jumped his bones last night without so much as a hint from him that he wanted it. He didn’t argue or hesitate even for a second, but that doesn’t mean he was interested until my lips hit his.

“I had a seriously bad day yesterday.” I'm purposely vague, so I don’t just lay all my shit at his feet if he’s not interested in hearing it.

He nods, agreeing that yesterday wasn’t one to add in the plus column.

“I walked in on my boyfriend fucking my best friend,” I blurt out.

He drops the fork that was an inch from his mouth, and I watch as it clatters back down to his plate, leaving speckles of sauce on the table top.

“Worst fucking day ever,” he finally says.

I wish
. “At least in the top five.”

“Rough life?” He asks with evident concern on his face.

“Last decade has held some pretty disastrous shit.” I look down and twirl spaghetti noodles absently around my fork.

“Like I was saying,” I begin after a long silence. “It was a shitty day, and I never should’ve thrown myself at you like I did. Especially considering you’re…you know,” I nod at his wedding ring.

I cut my eyes back to my plate and continue the pasta twirling even though my stomach is too knotted to even think about eating another bite. The silence drags on for what seems like forever. I put my hands on the table ready to stand and get away from the discomfort I’m feeling from my admissions.

His voice stops my momentum. “You have it all wrong.” I look up at him. “I’m nothing like,” he nods his head at me.

“Trent?” I offer.

“Is that the asshole that cheated on you?” I nod. “I’m nothing like
Trent
.” He says his name with disdain like Trent personally wronged him somehow. “I never cheated on Savannah. Never even thought to turn my head in the direction of another woman. Not once.”

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone as I watch him twist his wedding ring around his finger. I feel the need to remind him where his dick was last night.

“Until last night,” I whisper and drop my head. I’m the succubus that caused this dedicated man to break his vows.

“She’s,” his voice hitches. “My wife passed away in a car accident almost two years ago.”

My head jerks up just as his chin hits his chest. He’s broken.

I reach my hand across the table and place it on his, stilling the incessant twirling of his wedding ring. I don’t know how to feel right now. I wish I could say that I feel better knowing that I didn’t help him become an adulterer, but I don’t. If possible, I feel even more like shit because I threw myself at a broken man. A man that is apparently not over the death of his wife.

To have a love like that
, I think with jealousy.

I’m too far away to reach the tear that rolls down his cheek and mixes with the hair on his jaw.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Kadin. I can only imagine how difficult that is.”

I can in a roundabout way. My parents died which was horrible but not the same. This man lost his future, one that obviously he wasn’t prepared to live without her. I lost Trent, and Keira, but that was by his choice not the consequence of a traffic accident.

“My parents died in a car accident,” I share with him, hoping maybe the commiseration will let him know that I have some idea of the pain he feels.

“How long ago?” He doesn’t raise his head but shifts his hands, causing me to let them go. I watch as he wipes his face on the back of his arm clearing away the rogue tears that dared to fall.

“Almost ten years ago,” I tell him when he brings his head up to look at me.

“Rough decade.”

“Rough decade,” I answer in agreement.

“How long were you and the Idiot together?” He says, idiot, like its Trent’s new name. I like it, very fitting.

“Six years.” Best six years of my life if I'm honest.
All lies.

“Long time.”

“How long were you and Savannah together?” I hope he doesn’t get upset talking about her, but he asked me, so I figure maybe the conversation is safe.

He looks past me and smiles at her memory. “I met her at Freshman Orientation.”

“So college. That’s a long time.”

He laughs boldly; the sound reverberates around the room. “High school actually,” he corrects me.

“Wow, that is a long time.” He grins.

“We were together for a little over seventeen years. If you count the on-again-off-again months our junior year in high school.” He chuckles again at a memory I’m not privileged to.

His face lights up when he starts thinking about her. His chocolate eyes shine, and they crinkle at the corner. This man is gorgeous.

“She was a lucky woman,” I say out loud before I can stop myself.

He winks at me but otherwise doesn’t respond, changing the mood in the dining room completely.

“Tell me about her?” I rise from the table and take our plates so he doesn’t feel like I’m scrutinizing him.

He waits for a few beats before he starts to respond.

“She was as perfect as a woman could get. Blond hair and the most amazing pair of blue eyes I would have given my left leg for just the chance to stare into the rest of my life. She called me a jerk the very first time she spoke to me, and I think I fell in love with her then.” He laughs again and gets up from the table bringing the wine glasses with him.

We somehow begin the process of putting the food away and washing the dishes, him drying. We move around the kitchen almost as one unit rather than two separate people.

“How do you go from being a jerk to marrying her?” I laugh.

“I followed her around like a lost puppy. I’d do anything and everything she ever asked of me.”

“That’s stalking,” I say honestly.

His laugh rings around the room again. “That’s what she said.” He shrugs. “So one day I just stopped. She must have missed me because after two days she was at my house wanting to know why I didn’t walk her home anymore.”

“And the rest is history,” I whisper.

He nods.

To have a love like that
.

He hands me the towel after I drain the water in the sink.

“Want to play cards or something?” He asks as he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

I follow him. “Sure.”

“Strip poker?” He asks teasingly. I stop in my tracks and stare at his back. He turns and smirks at me. “Too soon?”

I laugh. “Listen, Kadin.” He holds his hand up to stop me.

“I heard what you said the first time.” He says and turns back to a beautiful wooden cabinet tucked into the corner of the den, rifling through it looking for playing cards I assume.

I did tell him it was a mistake, and it was. Knowing now that he is a widower and not an adulterer shouldn’t change things in my mind, but for some reason I feel myself gravitating to him in more than just what I’d originally intended when I set out making dinner. I’d wanted a little companionship. I didn’t want to sit in the room alone going stir crazy.

I tell myself to get my hormones in check because this man is hurting and I only complicate things.

He sets the pack of cards down on the table in front of the fire and makes his way over to the table with the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on it. He holds it up in offering. I shake my head back and forth, and he laughs but doesn’t say anything.

“I wouldn’t want to get drunk and jump you in the hall again,” I say only half joking because I sort of do.

He doesn’t respond, just pours some of the golden liquor in a tumbler and sets the bottle on the table by the cards. Seems he has different plans for the evening.

“What do you want to play?” I ask as I open the cards, removing the cellophane from them along with the other random cards they throw in there, and begin to shuffle them.

“Rummy?” I nod and continue walking.

It’s incredibly late by the time I give up on cards with Kadin. He’s won at least four games to my one and the more he drinks, the better he gets.

I yawn and cover my mouth. “I’m going to call it a night.” I hand the stack of cards to him and stand from the sofa.

“Good night,” he says and tilts his whiskey tumbler at me.

We talked about everything under the sun: our lives and childhoods. I laughed like I haven’t laughed in years, and it came easy not forced.

I smile as I enter my room and head straight to my bed. Even with my nap from earlier, I’m tired. I kick off my sweats and slide in between the sheets, snuggling as far as I can go in the thick blankets and before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep.

My sleepy mind barely registers the hot, massive form that slides behind my back and wraps its arms around me. My mind does, however, register the gentle kiss to my shoulder just before he nuzzles his nose in my hair.

“So warm,” he whispers against my neck as sleep drags me down once again.

Day two of waking up with London. I tossed and turned for hours last night before finally giving up and crawling into bed with her. I had planned just to head downstairs and drink some more but when I passed her door, I noticed it was cracked. I saw it as an open invitation.

I crawled in behind her and held her in my arms. Her only reaction was the release of a soft sigh in her sleep. Now that I’m sober and still wrapped around her back this morning, the idea seems more like a poor choice. If she wanted me in bed with her, she would’ve asked me to join her. Now I’m the creepy guy, taking liberties with a houseguest I’ve known for just over forty-eight hours.

I came in here straight from my own bed across the hall, so I’m only wearing my underwear. I’m doing my best not to move too much but from the warmth coming from under the covers, she’s either naked or only wearing panties with her thin tank top. I could stay here all day and just lay against her, but eventually she’s going to wake up and not only wonder why I’m in bed with her, but I’d also have to explain the erection pressing against her ass.

The sun is just beginning to shine through the window, so I know it’s still relatively early. I wiggle and scoot backward gently. Once out of the bed, I give her one more glance and freeze as I watch her bury herself deeper in the covers, groaning slightly. I smile at the thought that she misses my warmth. We were in the same position we were in when I first came in last night so hopefully she won’t even realize I was in here.

I leave her room, making sure to leave her door cracked open like I’d found it last night and shuffle across the hall to mine, closing myself quietly in my room. I shower quickly, taking care of the more-than-morning-wood issue before throwing on a pair of jeans and heading downstairs.

I purposely make as much noise as I can in the kitchen, hoping she’ll wake up and join me for coffee. Once it’s brewing, I crack open a can of cinnamon rolls and preheat the oven.

She has perfect timing as she shuffles into the kitchen just as I’m pulling the pastries from the oven. My back is to her, but I hear her walk in. “Coffee’s ready,” I tell her and set the cookie sheet on the stove top to cool. Another ten minutes and these babies will be ready for the packet of cream cheese icing that came with them.