41
Emmy
Trystan dropped his forehead to rest against mine, and I looped my arms around his tense shoulders.
“Yes,” I said finally. “Okay. Let’s be scared together.” I lifted my face.
“Thank Christ, Emmy.” He breathed the words against my lips.
“But—” I started.
“I know,” Trystan said. “Slow.”
I pulled back, bemused. “How did you know that’s what I was going to say?”
His shoulders lifted slightly. “We’ve done everything backward.”
I tap my finger on my chin. “What comes first? Kissing? Let’s do more of it. Right now, if possible.”
He chuckled. “I was thinking more of you inviting me in for a drink so we can get to know each other more.”
“You’re already in. For someone who doesn’t date, you seem to have a pretty set idea of how it’s supposed to go.”
He let go of me and slapped a hand to his forehead. “And I still got it wrong. We have to have the date first before you invite me in.”
“Good point.”
His brow furrowed. “So when can I see you?”
I glanced around the room. “Now?”
“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I pressed my palm to his forehead.
“Hey, I can go slow. If I have to.”
“That’s not slow, it’s glacial.” I huffed with disappointment. “And you don’t have to go that slow.”
“Actually, I was thinking I could take you to the airport to get David.”
I licked my lips. “That . . . that might be really nice. Not your typical date though.”
“But there’s nothing typical about us. And I’m thinking it’s a pretty big day. I’d like to be there for you. But also, it might be good for me to see what the transition is like and be a fly on the wall at one of the facilities I own.”
“Spy on them, you mean?” I arch an eyebrow.
His lips quirked. “Sort of.”
“How romantic.”
“Right? I thought it was the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.”
I punched his arm softly, laughing. “Jerk.”
“I can buy you an airport coffee.”
“You just keep coming up with winners.”
Trystan’s lips settled on mine for another round of soft and slow kisses.
“They are going to be insufferable, by the way,” I muttered when we broke apart again.
“Who?”
“Armand and Annie. They’ll take full responsibility for us.”
He squeezed my knee. The soft lighting made his hair and eyes darker. “Us. I like that. And I don’t care.”
I couldn’t look away from him. I couldn’t believe I was jumping into this with him. “Me too,” I said, grinning. “And since you are already in, can I offer you a drink? I may have a couple of those beers left if you didn’t drink them all.”
“Sure. That’d be good.”
He stepped back, and I hopped off the counter and got him a cold beer. Grabbing my glass of wine, we went to sit on the couch. I curled up on one end, expecting him to go to the other.
“This is . . .”
“Weird,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Come here.” He helped me up and settled in my spot then gently pulled me down next to him.
I melted against his warm, solid frame, and curled my legs up next to me.
“Emmy?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you crack the code to my phone?”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about. You want to know my secrets.”
“I do,” he said then brought his mouth to my ear, causing a flight of goosebumps to flutter down my body. “I want to know them all. Especially what’s in your bedside drawer.”
I swallowed down a flood of embarrassed laughter. “You have to pick. How I cracked the code to your phone, or what’s in my bedside drawer.”
“Aww, come on.”
I shook my head.
“Tell me both, and I’ll tell you what the L stands for,” he offered.
“That’s one secret for two, what kind of businessman are you?”
“One who always gets two for the price of one.” He chuckled.
“Ha. Not from me you don’t.”
“Okay, how about you tell me about growing up?”
I tensed.
“You don’t have to, of course, and David’s told me a few things, but—”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me?”
I glanced sideways at him. “Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Well, I was never abused if that’s what you’re thinking. And I don’t know much about what the situation was that got me into the foster system. But I never found a forever home until the Dubois family took me in. God, I sound like a stray cat.”
“You were.” He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Trystan. I’m happy. I got a good family in the end. My foster father had a weak heart and my foster mom died of breast cancer, but you can’t predict those things. They gave me the years they had left. And when they were gone, I had David. I was grateful for every moment they wanted to keep me around.”
Trystan took a sip of his beer with his free hand. “You have an amazing outlook on life.”
“There’s no point in being any other way.” I shrugged and sipped my own drink.
“Yes, but I get it now. Why you’re having a hard time giving us a chance.” He leaned forward and removed his arm from my shoulder, dislodging me from his side.
I made a sound of distress at the loss of his warmth.
He set down his beer and moved off the couch to sit on the coffee table facing me, his legs spread.
“I want to keep you around,” he said with intensity.
“Good,” I smiled. “I want to keep you around too.”
“I mean it. I want to keep you.”
“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes still grinning. “Weirdo.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’m going to go.”
“Wait. What?” My stomach sank.
“Taking it slow, remember?”
I pouted. “Where are you staying?”
“At my grandmother’s if you can believe it. For now. But I’m going to move to Charleston permanently.”
My sinking stomach suddenly lurched right back up my insides in happiness. “You are?” I couldn’t help the grin that spread, even as I tried to bite my lips to keep it in.
“I take it that’s a good thing.”
I nodded. “Very.”
He smirked and leaned forward again. Taking my face in his, he kissed my mouth softly then my forehead. “Emmy, I . . .”
“What?”
He let out a breath. “Nothing. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I woke in my bed, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. Stretching across my empty bed, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was early. Early enough to enjoy lying in bed for a few minutes.
Silently, I apologized to my morning Skimm email with the latest things I had to know in the world, and instead I pulled up the dating app Armand and Annie had tried to get me to look at last night.
Trystan's image filled the screen again, and I took a moment to really look. My gaze traced his hair that caught the sunlight and the curves and hard lines of his face. His eyes. The crinkles near his eyes, though he wasn't smiling exactly. It was more of a candid shot. His lips. I wanted to kiss those again. Soon. His suit. And then . . .
I turned and looked at my cat, Tuna, who lay next to me and stared through slitted eyes. "Traitor," I whispered.
Tuna let out a sound like a half meow as if he couldn't quite muster up the energy for a response, then lapsed into a deep purr.
I scrolled down:
97% match.
Trystan
31 years old.
0.6 miles away.
Charleston, SC
LOOKING FOR: Only redheads (real ones). Cats not dogs (can be persuaded. I mean . . . dogs). Sense of humor. Girls who read poetry. Take pictures of food. Sew. Freckles. Cream no sugar. Must be 28. Live in French Quarter. Must have ability to dance to Latin beats. Gluten free. Better with no makeup. Great at job but dislike boss. Must have French sounding name. And love dirty talk. Also don't mean to be creepy, but have no blood relatives they consider family. Someone to build a life with.
I smiled stupidly. Reading this first would certainly have primed me to see Trystan in a more positive light when he showed up last night. It was a silly move. A silly gesture. But I could see the heartfelt nature of it. And I could certainly see Annie's fingerprints all over it. My phone vibrated as I held it.
Trystan: Good morning.
Morning.
I pressed my lips together to control my smile and stop the butterflies flying from my stomach up my throat.
I'm concerned about the 3%.
Trystan: What? 3%? This is Trystan. You did save my number in your phone, right? You didn't delete it?
LOL. Our dating profile says we are a 97% match. I'm concerned about the 3%.
Trystan: Oh. About that. I think it's sexual compatibility.
I snorted a laugh.
What?
Trystan: You know? In the bedroom?
I know what it means. But it makes no sense.
Trystan: You said it, not me.
Ha.
Trystan: But you know . . . maybe there are a couple things you wouldn't try. Not assuming, just suggesting.
Not likely.
Trystan: Oh Emmy, be careful.
A thrill of giddiness went through me. My insides felt warm and gooey. I was glad he left last night after we spoke though. I think we both needed to get some distance and perspective on our feelings. Spoiler, they hadn't changed. He still made me all sorts of terrified, but it was mixed with the most exquisite and exhilarating joy.
Promises. Promises. I text back, biting my lip to contain my smile.
Trystan: Looking forward to our first date. (He says, trying to change the subject and keep his dirty, dirty mind in check)
It's an interesting first date, that's for sure.
Trystan: Picking you up to take you to the airport so you can meet another man? Sure.
Not man. Men! David AND D'Andre.
Trystan: Yep. Men. I'm taking you to meet two other men.
And buying me coffee.
Trystan: You still in bed?
Yes.
Trystan: Me too . . .
Oh no you don't.
Trystan: Aww. Come on. What r u wearing?
Nothing.
Trystan: :: Groan :: Fantastic. And what is your hand doing?
Holding the phone.
Trystan: Your other hand?
Stroking my pussy
I chuckled and texted again.
Pussy cat.
Tuna.
Trystan: I didn't get your last two messages.
Ha ha.
Trystan: Whhhyyyy won’t you tell me how you bypassed the security code on my phone?
Why won’t you tell me what the L in your name stands for?
Trystan: Not even my shrink knows that.
You don't have a shrink.
Trystan: Do you remember how you said that when we texted you felt like you could tell me anything?
Yeah . . .
Trystan: Be my shrink then. Can I tell you something? Something I backed off telling you last night?
I licked my lips nervously and shifted in the bed.
Why couldn't you tell me?
Trystan: I was worried you wouldn't believe me. Or you'd run away again. It was thiiiiiiiis close last night.
I frowned.
Why tell me this morning then? What changed?
Trystan: I'm taking a chance.
Okay, shoot.
Trystan: Do you promise to accept it on face value?
Face value?
Trystan: Like . . . it is what it is.
You're putting it in writing. So it has to stand.
Trystan: It does.
I waited, biting my lip and scowling at my phone.
Trystan: Here goes . . .
Trystan: I think we should try anal.
Oh my God.
Trystan: Just kidding.
Trystan: What I wanted to say was . . .
Trystan: I fell for you before I ever touched you. But I didn't think you'd believe me. Or you'd be too shocked and reject it. But I'm pretty sure about it. I've never felt the way I do about you, ever. And now this doesn't seem so shocking after the anal comment does it?
Oh my God. You. Are. A. Psycho.
Trystan: Nah. Just a little fucked in the head.
My heart beat so hard, I sat up in bed dislodging the cat and causing him to give a disgruntled mewl.
Pick me up in thirty minutes. I need time to process . . .
Holy shit, did I ever need time to process. Thirty minutes might not cut it. But it would have to do since I didn't want to be late to get to the airport to meet David and D'Andre, who was so kindly escorting him to South Carolina.
My feelings for Trystan had shocked me too. They'd made me completely freak out after sleeping with him. Knowing he'd been feeling the same way . . . I sighed and couldn't help the stupid grin on my face. God, we were like two newborn calves trying to walk. It probably wasn't going to be easy, but if he was willing to take a chance, I guess I was too.
Trystan: Your processing time is freaking me out. Why I decided to text you and not tell you to your face is beyond me. I need to see you right now.
Relax. Texting is what we do best :)
Trystan: Not true. We do other things extremely well. Texting is like . . . third.
Guess what?
Trystan: What?
It's Tuesday.
Trystan: And?
And?!?! It's our anniversary. The anniversary of our accidental meeting.
Trystan: So it is.
I love Tuesdays.
And you.
<<<<>>>>
Thank you for reading Emmy and Trystan’s Story
Beau’s story
INCONVENIENT WIFE
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