I emptied the drawer of all my boxers. Just the essentials for now. I would have to come back gradually for the rest of my things.
Calliope gave me shit when I told her I needed to crash with her and Nigel for a while. Mainly, she was mad because I wasn’t being frank with her as to the exact reason why I was moving out of Bridget’s. I assured her it would only be temporary until I could find another place. I already had two appointments to see apartments in Providence.
I still needed to decide how to address my moving out with Bridget and especially Brendan, but I knew I couldn’t spend another night here. It wasn’t fair to her, and quite honestly, given my reaction to seeing the photos that Brendan had sent, moving out would also be in my own best interest.
I fucking lost it, and it wasn’t pretty. I’d been in the middle of a hectic shift and was barely able to function the rest of the day.
When she’d first arrived down to Florida, I was bloody loving flirting with her over text. And even though I knew I should’ve been taking advantage of the separation more productively, I found myself counting the days until her return.
But when Brendan sent me those pictures from their day out, I was gutted. It had taken me several minutes to even respond to the poor kid.
Seeing her with that guy—it put me over the edge. He looked older, like someone ready to settle down. That was exactly what she needed. Yet, I couldn’t get over my own selfish anger, which was irresponsible and unfair. I had an urge to get on a plane and interrupt whatever was going on.
So utterly disappointed in myself for even considering that, I came to the conclusion that the only option was to physically remove myself from this living situation. If I couldn’t change my feelings, then I could, at the very least, change my environment.
It was now or never. Once she returned, I wouldn’t ever have the bollocks to do it.
Zipping my suitcase, I heard a car door shut outside. I looked out the window, which was covered in droplets of rain.
It was Bridget. Fuck. What was she doing home?
The front door slammed shut, and then came the sound of her footsteps nearing my room.
My body went rigid as I braced for her arrival.
She appeared at the doorway, looking sunkissed and fucking gorgeous.
“Simon. You’re here. We need to talk.”
“What are you doing here, Bridget?”
She leaned her neck to see behind me and noticed the large black suitcase.
“What’s going on? Why is there a suitcase?”
“I thought it would be easier if I—”
“Moved out before I came back? You weren’t even going to discuss it with me?”
“Of course, I was going to tell you.” I looked down at her neck and could see a bit of the tan line at her shoulder. “Shit, Bridget, I wasn’t expecting you back today.”
“Clearly.”
“Where’s Brendan?”
“I dropped him off at Ben’s mother’s for the night before heading home. I wanted the house quiet so I could talk to you. But apparently it was your intention not to be here when I came back.”
“You came home a day early to talk to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her face was turning red in anger. “Stupidity, apparently.”
“No.” I walked toward her, despite my better judgment and demanded, “Tell me why.”
“I saw that Brendan had sent you photos that made it look like something was going on with my mother’s neighbor, Jonathan. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I know that shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. I only took him up on his offer to take us out to lunch by the beach. That was it. There wasn’t any chemistry, Simon. I haven’t been able to feel anything for anyone but you. That’s really scaring me.”
I looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath.
Fucking relief.
Nothing happened between them.
Relief consumed me. And that was not good, because it shouldn’t have mattered so damn much.
“You were on the fucking beach in my bikini with him. I just assumed something was going on.”
Her eyes widened. “Your bikini?”
Perhaps it was a Freudian slip, but I owned up to it.
“Yes. My fucking bikini.”
In that moment, it was like my inhibitions just snapped. Running my thumb along the slightly burned skin below her neck, I said exactly what I was thinking.
“It’s my bikini because every inch of the body inside of it belongs to me, whether you want that to be the case or not. I know how that struggle feels because it’s no different for me. As much as I would give anything to want someone else right now, my body only wants you. And quite frankly, Bridget, it’s not going to rest until it has you. I took her hand and placed it on my bare chest, sliding it down to my lower abs. “Feel this. You own this. Is that wrong? Maybe. But it’s yours.”
She leaned in and shocked the shit out of me when she just started softly kissing my chest. The longer it went on, the less I cared about consequences. She was running her tongue along my skin now. I had zero fucks left to give.
I dug my fingers into her hair, which was damp from the rain. “Let me fuck you, Bridget.” I wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please.”
My chest was heaving, and my dick was painfully hard.
She was trembling as she whispered over my chest, “Just one time.”