“Is she alright?”
I nod slowly, putting my hand on Amber’s thigh and caressing it with my palm. “Mella and Arnold got engaged.”
“Oh!” Amber’s tone is one of uncertainty, and she edges a little closer to me. “Laurie told me she liked him.”
“She does,” I say with a sigh. “I think she was… I guess she was a little surprised.” I meet Amber’s eyes and shrug. “And she felt alone. She’s been trying to call us both and neither of us was answering.”
“Shit,” Amber mumbles, and her gaze drops from mine. “Well now I feel like a complete bitch.”
“Me too. But she’ll be alright. I think she’s just overwhelmed with everything. Life, college, growing up, all the fun things.” I give Amber a small smile. “All the things people your age grapple with.”
Amber puffs out a breath. “That’s for sure.” She leans over and brushes a kiss against my cheek and springs to her feet. “I better go call her. Just make sure she’s alright.”
She springs lightly up the stairs, and a few minutes later her voice sounds in the distance, chatting animatedly with my daughter.
I slump into the couch and tip my head back against the warm leather.Mella’s getting married again.
It doesn’t bother me, not like that. She’s a good person, an amazing mother, and, when it was good, she was a great partner. I’ve never wished her ill. Her being happy and content with a new husband makes me happy, too.
And yet, something niggles at me. Yesterday I told Amber I’d never get married again, that I was too old to start over. But this weekend has shown me that I’m not old, or past it, or ready for a retirement home.
I still feel young, young enough for things to happen for me, young enough that I still have a whole life to offer somebodyelse, and the added bonus being that I’m not bogged down by juvenile shit. I’m a grown man who owns his own house, has a steady job, makes great money, is evidently really good in bed, I work out-
What the fuck are you trying to talk yourself into here, old man?
My reason jumps up and punches me in the face like a goddamn asshole.
I’m trying to tell myself I’m an attractive prospect for Amber. Even the term makes me roll my eyes at myself.Attractive Prospect. I’m already talking like a goddamn fossil.
Another thing to shove down into the dark along with my shame and guilt, and all the damn butterflies that won’t stop crowding my stomach. There’s nothing I can say to myself that will make a relationship with Amber acceptable. Nothing will ever rationalise asking a young woman like her to give up her future to spend it with someone as old as me.
Nothing.
It’s just for the weekend. And she can’t keep me. We both know that.
Amber watches me carefully as I do the dishes, one leg drawn up to her chest, the other dangling from the kitchen counter. I give her a side glance a few times, but her eyes stay fixed on my hands in the soapy water.
Finally, I turn to her, drying my hands on a towel, raising my eyebrows.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Her eyes snap up to mine, a smile taking over her face, and she shakes her head.
“Oh, nothing serious. Just… thinking about random things.”
“Whatthings?”
She suppresses a laugh, and brushes a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “I guess, it feels kinda stupid to say it, but I feel… different. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, it’s just sex, right? That shouldn’t make me feel different, should it?”
“I guess it depends on how good the sex is,” I say with a shrug, and she rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re great. Life-changing. The best I’ve ever had.”
I puff out my chest and toss the towel to the counter. “There goes my ego again.”
Amber giggles as I press a kiss to her cheek, running my hands under her shirt to cup her breasts.
“It’s not the sex, honey. It’s you.” I pinch and roll her nipples between my fingers, and she gazes up at me with hooded eyes. “You wanted to feel more confident, and you do. More confident to know how to ask for what you want, how to say yes, how to say no, all of that. Knowing your worth is important.”
