With A Twist(71)
But that doesn’t set right… not when I’m looking across the table at Casey. I don’t see her as that. Instead, I just see her as an incredibly strong, mature, and liberated woman who believes that whatever is good for the goose is good for the gander.
It’s hard to argue with that line of thinking.
Luckily, this group of women now includes Alyssa and Savannah, who have babies, and the talk eventually turns to that. That’s definitely more along the lines of what I prefer the women discuss, but even that turns boring to me.
Not because I have anything against kids. On the contrary, I love them to distraction and dote on my nieces and nephews. I want at least two myself, but my limit would be four.
But this is boring me because as Andrea sits next to me, her hand casually resting on my thigh, all I can think about is getting her alone again.
To fuck, to talk, to cuddle, to walk along the beach, to laugh.
All the things we have been doing oh so damn well since she arrived.
I want more of it, and time is ticking.
But I don’t drag her out, and I continue to add into the conversation when I can. I do that because she’s having a good time with the girls, and I’m not about to take that away from her.
Besides, I like knowing she’s so accepted into our crowd. I like that she likes that as well. It means that our foundation keeps building steadily.
Breakfast is ordered… it’s served, and I eat it quickly and without taking my eyes off my plate so that poison and/or laxatives are not placed on my food. I laugh when appropriate, and I watch Andrea start to make new friends, grateful that it’s another way to cement her to me.
Chapter 22
Andrea
Wyatt walks out on the back deck, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and two glasses held tight by the stems in one hand. With the other, he pulls the sliding door closed.
“Ready?”
I pat the blanket folded over my arm. “Ready.”
But not really. I’m not ready for us to take one more step forward in time, because it’s our last night together and I’m sure as hell not ready to leave tomorrow. I’m not excited about returning to Pittsburgh or even returning to my job. I’m only vaguely excited about the prospect of getting into the BRIU.
All of that… my life… just seems so far removed at this moment. It seems like a dull dream. It’s like the gray of Kansas before Dorothy landed in the brilliance of Oz.
I follow Wyatt down the deck stairs, and we only walk a few feet away before he motions for me to spread out the blanket. After both of us have our butts firmly planted, side by side, facing the moonlit ocean, Wyatt cracks open the wine—twisting the cap actually—and pours us each a glass.
He holds his glass angled toward me, and I tap mine against it.
Clink.
“So… are we celebrating your last night here?” he asks softly.
“Not something I think I want to celebrate,” I murmur.
“Me either.”
“This sucks.”
“Big time.”
“This is deep conversation.”
“The deepest.”
We both start laughing, and he bumps his shoulder against mine. I push back gently against his and then take a sip of my wine.
After I swallow, I tell him, “So… I sent a message back to David.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmm. Hmmm,” is all I say before I take another sip of my wine. The ocean is lovely… a pure cloudless night with a bright moon, causing the water to look like it’s covered in floating, crushed diamonds.
“Are you going to tell me what you said to him?”
“Sure. Why not.”
His head swivels to me, and I can see the moon glittering in his light blue eyes filled with serious interest. He patiently waits for me to divulge.
“I just told him that I wasn’t interested in talking. That it was best that we just both keep moving forward with our lives, but I appreciated his concern. I assured him I was fine.”
“Did he respond?”
“No,” I say while rubbing my finger around the edge of my glass. “But I expect him to. David was never one of those types that let me have the last word.”
Wyatt snorts. “Maybe I need to step in and play the jealous boyfriend role.”
I reach out and lace my free hand with his. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I ask in a teasing tone, “Is that what you are? My boyfriend.”
His hand reflexively squeezes mine but his tone isn’t teasing when he says, “Boyfriend sounds so juvenile. All I know is that you’re mine and I’m yours.”
My smile comes immediately… the warmth in my chest right behind. Lifting my head up, I reach over and push my wineglass into the sand. Coming up to my knees, I turn to face him and take his wineglass away. It finds a resting spot next to mine.