“You’re being obtuse,” she murmured. “Your entire family goes to Mexico for the holidays. I know this because Lauren’s told me all about it, and Matt went with her last year.” She met my blank stare, and raised me an eye roll. “And they’re going this year, too. I’m not interested in any part of that. No.”
“There will be plenty of pillow biting. Did I mention that?” Another eye roll. “Do you even have a reason? Or are you too busy glaring at me with all your hell fire?”
“I have several reasons,” she cried, knocking my hand from her neck. “First,myfamily is in Boston andmyfamily has its own traditions. I took enough shit for ditching them this week—”
“And that’s exactly why you should spend a week with me in Mexico,” I interrupted, “where I’ll keep you drunk and naked.”
I fucking hated her brothers. Those lazy bastards dumped everything on Shannon. I wanted to sit each of them down and have a few words about how I expected them to treat their sister, and bywords,I meant kicking the shit out of them until we reached an understanding.
“Yeah, being surrounded by your parents, Wes, Lauren, and Matt sounds like the perfect time to be drunk and naked,” she snorted. “We’re not talking about this anymore.”
“There will be moments when clothes are tolerated,” I said. “Few and far between, but they’ll exist, and you can hang with Judy, and tell her how much you love the blog. She will promote you to favorite in a fucking second. And you can give Wes shit about everything, because you can and I want to watch that.”
“What you’re talking about isn’t what we have going on,” she said, her hand circling the space between us.
“Let’s renegotiate the terms,” I said.
“You don’t want to negotiate with me,” she said.
“Maybe I do,” I said.
“Listen. I wouldn’t challenge you to a commando contest. You shouldn’t challenge me to a litigation duel.”
She continued sighing and murmuring about me losing my damn mind, and I returned my hand to her neck. She was tense, all tight, wiry muscles bunched between her shoulders, owed entirely to me messing up her universe again.
Her land mines were everywhere. Some I could spot, others were hidden, and all of them required caution. Patience.
And fuck me if patience wasn’t my middle name.
“Then let’s talk about some road head.”
Chapter Twelve
SHANNON
Eleven months ago
Iused tothink whiskey taught me everything I needed to know about hangovers.
Whiskey was nothing when compared to a long weekend with Will Halsted.
Those glorious days in New Mexico came crashing down when I woke up Monday morning. A crunchy layer of snow covered the roads, the sky was gray, and my bed was void of delicious men in need of insults.
A dull ache throbbed at the base of my skull, and I frowned at my empty text message inbox. There were a fuck ton of messages when I landed last night—mostly Lauren and Andy sharing the holiday highlights, Patrick blasting me with questions about the status meeting agenda for this morning, and Will requesting confirmation that I was safe and snug at home. He sent a picture, too, one he snapped of us on the tail end of our hike. It was at a steep, rocky part of the path, far from the marked trail, with the snowcapped mountains framed in the distance. Will’s lips were pressed to my temple, and he was smiling. I looked sweaty and blotchy, and the angle gave me an extra chin, but I kind of loved that image.
When he delivered me to the airport, he swept me off the curb and kissed me harder than was polite for such a public setting. Then he explained he’d be leading training missions all week. He’d be off the grid, and the absence of his texts and calls made the hangover much worse.
I avoided the office, distracting myself with buying and selling properties, and walking through our current job sites under the guise of listing preparation. It was a good diversion. It gave me time to think, and though the distance from Will was hard, it was healthy.
I couldn’t keep doing the rollercoaster routine: the eager-anxious build-up before seeing him, the incredible lightness associated with great sex and good company, the sharp plummet when it ended, and then getting in line to do it all over again. It was too much—drama, travel, emotion, all of it—and over the course of this week, I refined a persuasive argument to end things altogether.
But I wasn’t going to.
If I was brutally honest with myself, Icouldn’tdo it.
I wanted these weekends, and even if there were costs and challenges associated with them, they weren’t substantial enough to get me off the rollercoaster.
*
