Teagan had begun to suspect that Darcy’s willingness to accommodate his allegedly strenuous post-coital cuddling demands was less than totally selfless. The way she was drowsily splayed across his chest suggested that she didn’t find it unpleasant. He scratched the gap between her shoulder blades with an arm that was slowly falling asleep under her weight, imagining that she might even find some corresponding satisfaction with the arrangement. She yawned in a kittenish way.
If he could do exactly what he wanted, he’d stay here all day, order some food, then propose round two. This was the best. This was what he wanted from life.
But it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. He couldn’t stay here all day, and he very rarely did exactly what he wanted to do. He had to go.
Teagan gathered all his resolve and shifted out from under Darcy’s limp weight. He hesitated while looking at his clothes on the floor. He probably needed to shower if he didn’t want to broadcast to everyone in the office that he’d taken a nooner, but getting out of bed and immediately going to clean up was also kind of a dick move, in his book.
“Where are you going?” Darcy asked, rolling over and pressing her cheek against his back. Her fingers slid under his rib cage, urging him back into the bed.
“I have to get back,” he said, hoping his tone adequately conveyed his reluctance to do that.
“Mmm, false. There is literally nobody who will make you. If someone comes to make you, I’ll fight them.”
“I appreciate that. But if for no better reason than our workers’ comp premiums, I’ll spare them the necessity.”
He sat up. Darcy did too, looking beautifully disgruntled with her long hair sliding down over her breasts.
“Spare yourself! It seemed like your office was really”—Darcy groped for a word—“freaking you out today.”
“It’s not the office,” Teagan said, realizing too late that he was opening a door he wanted to leave closed. He sighed. Darcy never let anything go, so he might as well explain it now. “Or even Nora and Guillaume.”
“Guillaume?” she asked.
“The short European guy she brought in. He’s an art broker at Sotheby’s. Nora asked me to work with him to sell off most of the art the foundation owns and to commit to soliciting more in-kind donations in the next quarter.”
“And that was bad because...”
It was impossible to explain, because it didn’t make sense. He could say that he disapproved of using a children’s charity as a tax shelter. He could say that he felt incompetent when he tried to understand the art market. He could say that he felt awkward and exposed when he called strangers to ask them for money. But those things didn’t add up to the full-body shock of fear and grief that had crashed into him in the middle of the meeting. He couldn’t explain it. It was as though someone had wired a doorbell to blow up the garage when pressed.
“I just hate it,” he said unsteadily and not very fulsomely. “That part of the job. Asking for donations. Especially when people are only giving for the tax benefit.”
Darcy huffed in derision. “What part of the jobdoyou like? Because as far as I can tell, you also hate the luncheons, the benefit dinners, managing people—”
“I like that it’s a children’s charity,” he said.
“You like kids?” Darcy asked, looking skeptical.
“I like kids,” Teagan said. “I used to coach a middle school softball team at the Y.” Until he could no longer commit to Monday night practices in light of all the benefit dinners he was invited to.
Darcy leaned forward, loose hair dangling over naked shoulders. “Then where are the fucking kids, Teagan? I’ve been here a month, and I know you haven’t seen any kids.”
She looked angry at him, which he couldn’t understand.
“It’s not that kind of a charity,” he began to explain. “We don’t directly run the camp programs. We give out grants, we provide resources—”
“Okay, so you like exactly zero parts of your job,” she said.
“Lots of people don’t like their job.” He stood, turning away to avoid her judgmental look and deciding that he’d just get dressed and take care to stand a few feet away from anyone else for the rest of the day.
“But you don’tdoanything else!” Darcy said. “You go to work, you go to these fake parties that you hate, you ride the train, and you go home to either your big empty house or this dinky little apartment. We haven’t seen any of your friends, we’ve barely seen your sister—”
“I’m sorry this is all so shitty for you!” Teagan burst out. He only realized the volume of his voice when Darcy rocked backward in surprise. He wiped his mouth across his forearm as though that would erase the loudness of his voice and tried again. “I keep asking. What you’d rather do. But you won’t tell me.”
He wanted to bring the mountain to her, but he couldn’t even find a restaurant she wanted to visit or a trail she wanted to walk. He was beginning to worry he didn’t have a thing she wanted.
“Yeah, because it doesn’t matter what I’d do,” she said, looking puzzled. “This is your life. I’m here to help you figure out how to live in it without drinking.”
That hit him low in the gut, the reminder that this was all just temporary to her.
