“You smell different. It’s weird,” he says after a moment, an expression like he’s personally stumped by this.
“That’s not a compliment,” I reply flatly.
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“I only want to hear two things out of you: compliments that respect my personal boundaries, and ‘have a nice day, Elise.’ ”
He opens his mouth again to protest but sees my expression and thinks better of it.
I swallow and take a step back. “Thank you for getting it out of my eyes.”
He blinks, whatever came over us dissipating. “Yeah. Um. Anytime. Let me, uh, get you a paper towel for your shirt.”
I turn away and catch my reflection in the tile backsplash over the stove. My apron has taken the brunt of the hot sauce explosion, but my white T-shirt looks like it’s been flecked with a red arterial spray.
I take a few more steps back, my heart thudding with adrenaline, slowing down like I’d just come out of a near-death experience.
10
Shawn
I wasn’t going to kiss her.I wasn’t.That would have crossed a line.
Ok, I can’t pretend annoying her isn’t one of my favorite things to do and that hasn’t been my primary motivation, but I can handle being normal around Elise, I think. I can hold still and say very little, and pass for a normal person around my ex-wife, if I really, really need to.
I just don’t know that I can juggle that and the knowledge that I’ve somehow just met my mate.
And, obviously, I won’t try to kiss Elise if I have a mate, somewhere. In fact, I’m sure all my complicated lingering feelings about my ex-wife will probably dissolve the minute I actually find said mate again, right?
God, I fucking hope so.
Still, maybe I’m not any more ready for a mate now. Not when I’m still jerking off to the thought of my ex-wife’s thighs.
I drag a hand over my face. This is going to be a long week.
This damn house. There’s no living here, no avoiding everyone. I don’t know why I even came back here. I know for damn certain there’s no peace to be found.
I’m working in Dad’s old study when my mom steps inside and closes the door behind me. I half-wonder if Elise complained about me to her.
“I’m headed to St. Mary’s,” Mom says, shrugging into a cardigan. I blink. It’s not a Sunday, but I remember my grandparents attended mass even during the weekdays after they retired. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.
“Do you...” she starts to say, but then shakes her head a little and backs out of the question. “You wouldn’t want to come with me.”
“No, thanks anyway.”
She doesn’t leave, though, and I have a familiar sinking sensation in my stomach that I’ve felt before most lectures.
Mom closes the door and puts her hands on her hips like I’m about to be grounded. “I saw you and Elise talking together earlier.”
“We were catching up.”
She hums, a note that indicates both that she heard me, but that she’s not sure she believes that was all.
I’ve been a functioning adult for over a decade now, and, somehow, I still feel like a teenager when she does that. All of a sudden, it’s like I never actually grew up and moved out and figured life out for myself; I’m just a kid she needs to teach how to behave in the world.
I save and close out of the editing program so I can give her my full attention, taking in a deep, not calming enough breath. I want to have a conversation like rational adults that can respect each other. I’m not going to treat her like a tyrant who wantsto micromanage me, and hopefully my mother will pretend she thinks I’m a functioning adult.
“Look, out of respect for Elise and the uncomfortable position we’ve put her in, I don’t want to keep talking about this.”
