Chapter 22

“Those smell like ass,” Clark tells Henry, who’s eating hard-boiled eggs on the retaining wall.

“Maybe like your ass,” Henry says. “I wipe.”

“Boys,” I chastise, grade-school-teacher style.

It’s Wednesday, a mile-high hump in the middle of another butt-ugly week at work. Except that my mind is a hundred miles away most of the time, in bed with Maddie, blown away by her skill and enthusiasm and the heat of her skin.

“Guess what I’ve got on my desk at home,” Clark says. He doesn’t wait for us to guess, but crows, “Championship tickets!”

Henry pumps a fist. “Phoenix, here we come!

In the silence that follows, both of them turn to look at me. It’s like facing a panel of judges.

“Don’t even say it,” Clark warns.

“I don’t know,” I admit quietly.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Henry demands.

“Maddie hasn’t found a place to live yet.”

“And that’s your problem, how?”

“It’s a really tough market. She’s been looking and looking, but if she’s still looking, she might need me to watch Gabe—”

Clark makes a sound of the utmost disgust.

“Your mother can watch Gabe,” Henry says. “Your sister can watch Gabe. This is March Madness. This is Phoenix. This is what matters in life. We may never get a chance like this again.”

“Balls,” says Clark. “Meet vise.”

“Can it, Clark,” I say, before I can think better of it.

Suddenly they are both staring at me again. Only this time it’s more like a firing squad than a panel of judges. There are deep wrinkles in Henry’s forehead as he says, “You. Are. Not. Fucking. Her.”

It’s one of those moments where time slows down so I know exactly how painfully long I hesitate in the space where I should be denying it.

“No. No, no, no,” Henry says. “Jack, come on. You know better. This goes beyond shitting where you’re eating. This is like—um—”

“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘ejaculating where you’ve already conceived a child,’ ” Clark offers, prim as a middle-school sex-ed teacher.

None of us laugh. Because, let’s face it, they have a point. What I’m doing is…messy.

“We made a pact,” I say. “It’s just while she’s at my place.”

Clark squints. “Then what’s the incentive for her to move out? She has a place to live, free child care, Jack the Magic Penis…”

Although I think I might be getting the better end of the deal, at least if the blow job she gave me Sunday night was any indication. Which, well, it was. Because it just gets sexier and sexier each time as we relearn each other.

Clark waves a hand in front of my eyes. “Yoo-hoo. Jack. You know where this leads. You’re twenty-seven. You don’t want this. You want to sow your wild oats and hit the road to head to Phoenix and—when was the last time you came out with us?”

“O’Hannihans. Last weekend.”

“Weekend before last,” Henry corrects.

“Come on. That’s not that big a deal.”

Clark waves his hands. “The point is, there are only two possible outcomes here. And they both suck. Outcome one: She never moves out. This becomes your life. Saying no to fun. Staying home with the kid. Missing once-in-a-lifetime road-trip opportunities. Outcome two: You tell her she’s gotta leave so you can have your life back. And suddenly she’s all, But I thought this meant something to you.”

“No,” I say. “No, that’s not going to happen. We were really honest with each other. Neither of us wants that.”

Although I don’t mention what I said to her Sunday night right before the epic blow job. About how she was welcome to stay as long as she needed to. Somehow I don’t think that’ll help my case with these guys. And it doesn’t negate the fact that in the end, both Maddie and I know this is a short-term proposition.

“That’s what she says,” Clark says. “But like I said, what’s not to like about her current setup?”

“Me,” I say.

I get those four suspicious eyes on me again. I guess I should be flattered that my friends think I’m such a sex machine that they can’t imagine a woman walking away from sex with me willingly.

“She knows me, and she knows how it is with me. She knows I’ll hurt her in the end, and she’s smart enough not to want that.”

“I don’t think it’s about smart,” Clark says. “It’s about how women get about sex. They can’t help it. It’s in their hormones. She’ll say she’s fine with the situation, but then when you kick her out, she’ll act like it’s a crime against humanity.”

“Not Maddie,” I say definitively.

Clark raises his eyebrows.

Henry, who’s been quiet through most of this, shifts suddenly and sets his lunch bag down. “What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re the one who doesn’t want to walk away?”

Clark makes a sharp scoffing noise, but then, once again, two sets of eyes are trained on my face.

“Not gonna happen,” I say. Because as good as things are between Maddie and me now, as much as I love climbing into her bed at night and being with someone who can match me and challenge me in every possible way sexually, I’m not the guy she wants to come home to. And that works fine for me, because I never wanted to be that guy, either.

Almost never, a quiet voice says in my head.

Shut up, I say back.

Clark’s gotten distracted again by making plans for Phoenix, but I can tell Henry’s not listening as Clark spins out lists of what we need to pack in the car, how we’re going to party when we’re down there, and who’s going to control the music. He’s still looking at me, with an expression on his face I just can’t read.