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She rushes down the stairs to answer the door, leaving Dean and I alone. The air is still thick with tension that he quickly erases the moment he opens his mouth.
“You jacked off to it, didn’t you?” he asks with a crooked smirk.
Fighting a smile, I shove him out of the room with a roll of my eyes. “Go.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I can’t hold in my laugh as I follow him down the stairs.
My mother is already in the foyer with Briar as Dean and I walk down, and I notice the way my mom’s eyes watch us.
“Hello again,” she says politely to Dean.
“Hi, ma’am,” he replies.
“It’s nice to see you settled in so comfortably here,” she says.
Briar makes a noise, averting her eyes as Dean replies, “Absolutely. They are fantastic hosts.”
“Yes, they are,” she says, glancing my way.
Abby breaks in to show me the drawings she made at my mother’s last night, and I give her as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Then she launches herself into Dean’s arms without warning, and he lets out a groan as he picks her up.
When she wraps her arms around his neck, I glance at Briar, and our eyes meet.
I don’t know if she’s thinking the same thing as me, but I often wonder if anyone overthinks as much as I do. Like how much Abby adores him, but also…how careful we have to be.
We’re not just playing with our relationship here. Our entire family is involved, and our feelings for Dean affect everyone. We can’t just bring a new man into our marriage and pretend every single person is going to accept that.
It might be in our best interest to set these feelings aside—as much as I hate that idea.
Abby kisses Dean’s cheek with a giggle before he sets her back down. “Gross,” he says to her, only making her laugh more.
Then she takes off in a sprint toward her bedroom.
“Thanks for bringing her back,” Briar says to my mom.
“You’re welcome,” she replies before looking at Dean as if she knows something we don’t. “Abby likes having you here. I hope you stick around.”
Then, without another word, she turns, quickly saying her goodbyes before leaving. The three of us are left in awkward silence again, with my mother’s words hanging around us.
“Tomorrow,” Briar says. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Dean mutters.
And with that, the three of us disperse. Briar goes to Abby. Dean goes to his apartment, and I go to my office, trying to make sense of the foreign feeling in my chest.
Sitting in my chair, I pull the satin briefs from my pocket, inspecting the fabric and remembering how they felt draped over my face.
With a smile, I tuck them back into my pocket.
I’m feeling content at the moment—which is odd. Everything in my life is up in the air. My marriage is a mess. My career is on the brink of disaster.
But for the first time in a very long time, I feel pretty fucking good.
Thirty-Two
Briar
