“Back the fuck up with that. I’m not disrespecting her memory.”
I know exactly what this is because her eyes keep bouncing between my bare chest and my now clothed cock. Emma is jealous; she doesn’t give a damn about Sara’s memory. I step into her space, and she lets me. Her demeanor softens, and her lips part as if she expects me to kiss her. What kind of crazy woman is still hot for a man seconds after watching him fuck someone else? I didn’t see her, but I know she was there longer than I realized.
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to know you fucked her from behind.” A long fucking time. “I would have done all of that for you.”
I shake my head.
“You’re not concerned with Sara’s memory,” I tell her.
“Y-yes I am,” she stutters.
“So, if I’d invited you here by telling you I wanted to do every dirty thing imaginable to you on every surface of this house, you would have turned me down?”
I’ll be damned. My words got her hot and bothered.
“Well, that’s, that’s different. Sara wouldn’t mind us being together.”
“Bullshit. You don’t know what Sara would or wouldn’t want outside of us being happy.”
“I would be happy.”
I shake my head. “Not for long. And I wouldn’t be happy for a second.” I sigh hard. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t like you in that way, Emma. Why did you come here?”
She’s weepy again. This is exhausting. “To check on you. I didn’t want you to be alone.” Her eyes shoot to the stairs, and her expression turns bitter. “But you’re not. I thought sex and love are the same thing for you?”
“I said they run along the same line. I can’t see myself having sex with someone I couldn’t love.”
The hurt is back. “You’re capable of considering loving a stranger over a friend?”
I give her the truth without too many details. “Well, things sparked between us from the moment we met.”
“Which was?”
“The day of the hurricane.”
“Three fucking days?” Emma yelled unnecessarily.
“Yup. The moment I met her I felt something I’ve never felt in your presence, Emma. I’m sorry, it’s not going to happen.”
I’m tired of sugarcoating. Plus, the longer I talk to her, the more time Celeste has to sulk.
Emma eyes water again as she nods. “Will you at least tell me her name?”
Emma is a surgeon at the same hospital Wes works.
“No. Thanks for stopping by. I have to go. Don’t discuss this with anyone.”
I hold the door as she steps back and closes it gently when she walks off. I knew months ago that our friendship would never be the same; Emma just proved it.
I take the stairs two at a time. The house is eerily quiet. I find Celeste freshly showered and wearing her bra and underwear. She stares unseeingly out of the window. This is the first loaded silence between us.
“Celeste…”
“It’s okay, Beau.”
She doesn’t look at me, just keeps staring outside.
