I rise to stand in front of him. My hands cup his face as I press a warm kiss to his lips. The sharing portion of the evening is over, but I’m satisfied with my spoils. For now.
SIXTEEN
______
TONI
“I think the tulips are classier.” Rodney stares at my laptop screen, a single finger tapping against his pursed lips. “It’s either those or the orchids. What do you think?”
We’ve spent the past hour putting together some graphics Rodney wants for the engagement party next week. Place cards for the tables, a few signs to direct the guests to the correct room, and something for the thank you cards he’s planning to have printed to send out afterwards.
“They both look good.” With a few clicks, I turn off the layer on my graphics program containing the tulips, rendering them invisible, and turn the orchid layer back on. The purple orchid stem appears under the text once more. “It’s up to you. Do you think Leif will have a preference?”
“Leif never has a preference when it comes to this sort of thing,” Rodney grumbles. “But you always do. What’s going on with you?”
I raise my eyebrows, a wide smile creeping onto my face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He gives me a playful slap on the arm. “You’ve been spacey all morning, and you can’t keep the pits out of your cheeks.” I slide a hand up to my face to cover my dimples. “Now spill,” Rodney demands, resting his chin on an upturned hand. “You know you want to.”
“All right.” I throw my hands in the air, not even trying to hide my smile. It’s here to stay—a least for a while. “I’m just... really happy.” Which is weird because I’ve never been this happy before. Although I’ve faked being this happy on occasion, when the situation called for it, this is the first time I’ve experienced this level of genuine bliss from the inside out. It’s exhilarating.
“This is because of Ned, isn’t it?” Rodney taps his fingers on the table in excitement. “Things are going well between you two?”
“Oh my god, so well,” I admit. “Ned is amazing. We’re having so much fun together.”
Rodney bites down on his bottom lip before leaning closer. “How’s the sex?” he whispers, despite the fact we’re alone in my apartment.
“Off the freaking charts,” I tell him and we both dissolve into delighted laughter.
“It’s about time you found a man who appreciates the unique treasure that is Toni Fairweather,” he says, squeezing my arm. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.” Even as I say the words, an icky, swirly feeling starts in my belly. Ned isn’t hanging around because I’m such a treasure. He’s doing it because he’s an honourable man. He made a promise, and he wants to keep it. But so what? These feelings may be temporary, but I’ve earned the right to them, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let a technicality steal their shine. “I’m happy for me, too,” I add with a firm nod.
I woke up this morning with moans already spilling from my mouth while Ned’s cheeks hugged my cock as he sucked me off. What kind of idiot wouldn’t be grinning like a loon? I returned the favour shortly after. In the shower. There’s nothing quite like listening to Ned’s sex sounds echo off my white tiles while I drain him dry. Then, we ate breakfast together before he left for a day shift at the pub. He kissed me goodbye on the way out, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Like a real boyfriend.
If this is what being in a relationship is like, sign me up! It doesn’t matter if it won’t last forever. Neither did any of my previous relationship attempts, but I hung around for those. At least this time I can see the end coming. If I felt especially morbid, I could pencil our breakup in on my calendar ahead of time. Assuming it ends within the week after the engagement party, Ned will still have been my boyfriend for about six weeks. Which will officially be my longest relationship ever. Even if it is a fake kind of real, it will count in my book. Because losing Ned is going to hurt—like a freaking bitch. I won’t have to fake that. For now, though, I simply want to enjoy the happy.
“Earth to Toni.” Rodney snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Can you please come back from whatever sex-induced trance you’ve gone into? I have to leave in half an hour.”
“Right.” I sit up straighter, refocusing on the task at hand. “How about I print you out a copy of the different options? You can take some time to think about it, show Leif, and let me know which way you want to go. I’ll email you the finished files, and all you have to do is get them printed.”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you so much.” Rodney watches while I set up the necessary pages and send them off to the printer in my office. “I could go grab those for you,” he suggests, without bothering to rise from his chair.
Standing, I give him a dour look. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” I slip the key from my pocket, unlocking and opening the door with one practiced motion. Because I’m well aware my paranoia about people seeing my art is weird and anti-social. I don’t care. My private work is no one else’s business.
“Leif is convinced you have a sex dungeon in there,” Rodney says when I return, a new crispness in his voice.
My eyes roll. “Because I’ve never heard that before.” About a million times. “If I did have a sex dungeon, there is no way I would be able to resist giving you a tour, so I could show off my highly curated collection of whips and paddles.” I slap the printed pages on the table before him.
“I know.” He raises his hands in defence. “I know exactly what you’re hiding in there. You forget, I sat beside you in Mrs Schultz’s art class, back when you were still willing to share on the odd occasion. Who else would have listened to you complain endlessly about how hard it is to draw hands?”
“Hey, drawing handsishard.” I slump back down in my chair. “I nailed hands years ago, by the way.”
Rodney’s sniff is all kinds of indignant. “I wouldn’t know.”
Irritation slithers through my veins. We have this conversation at least once a year, and it usually ends with me telling my best friend to back the fuck off. Our morning has been so nice, though, and I’ve been in such a good mood. I don’t want anything to spoil it. “It’s not like I’m creating masterpieces in there and then depriving the world of my genius. And I’m not pinning pieces of my soul to the wall.” Although sometimes it does feel like it. Sometimes, when the pieces are especially heavy, it’s a relief to be rid of them. “I’m playing around with pixels and ink. What’s the big deal?”
Rodney’s lips press into a thin line. “I’ll see every scrap when you die, you know.”
