Page 82 of Fish Out of Water

“Does it really matter after last night?”

Robbie grabbed the blanket and yanked it off of Jake. “Of course it does.” He tossed Jake’s clothes to him. “Now get dressed and meet me downstairs. You like coffee, right?”

“Sure do.”

Jake got dressed in the lonely silence of the bedroom while Robbie busied himself downstairs. The house was too big for Jake to hear a single noise from below, but he liked to imagine Robbie playing the perfect role as the little househusband he’d always dreamed of being. Thatwas the life for Robbie.

Jake smiled to himself. He pulled his T-shirt on and ducked into the bathroom, running wet fingers through his hair to try to detangle the curls. He had dark circles under his eyes from the late night, and the shadow of his forming beard aged him a bit, but otherwise he looked decent enough. As a bonus, his clothes now smelled of Robbie, and that was always better than if they were freshly washed.

He descended the stairs with a growing queasiness in the pit of his stomach. The house was so large and foreign to him, and as the stairs went on endlessly, he could feel the place swallowing him whole. He couldn’t imagine how Robbie could ever stand living here all alone.

The stairs finally came to a stop, and Jake found himself back on the first floor, still unsure of where exactly to go. Robbie’s brief house tour the previous night had not been enough to cement the house’s layout in his head.

The scent of freshly toasted bread wafted through the air as Jake got closer to the kitchen, guiding him down the correct path. The kitchen light was on, and for the first time since he’d gotten out of bed, a familiar warmth enveloped him. He joined Robbie behind the bar where two plates sat, each one holding a slice of sourdough toast with a thick layer of melting butter on top. Next to the plates were steaming mugs of coffee.

“No espresso?” Jake asked, sliding onto one of the barstools. He winced slightly, remembering the activities of the previous night all too well.

“You want espresso instead?” Robbie asked. His sincerity was almost painful, and Jake quickly shook his head.

“Nah, this is good.” He took a bite of his toast. “I swear to God, Robbie, if this bread is homemade?—”

“It is.”

“You fucking chump.”

“You like it, though, don’t you?” Robbie flashed his teeth in a knowing grin.

“It’s pretty good.”

As much as he wanted to stay and make the most of the other rooms in the house, Robbie did not invite him to do so, and Jake forced himself to get up from the kitchen bar and head to the front door as soon as he was finished with his coffee and breakfast.

“I’ll see you tonight at the beach,” he said.

“See you then. Give my well wishes to Isabel.”

“I will. Thanks for everything, Robbie.”

“Yeah, it was fun. I hope you’ll come by again sometime.”

“Sometime.” He hadn’t forgotten Robbie’s sleepy, casual invitation to return for another night like the last, but he was afraid to bring it up now and have all his fantasies come crashing back down.

“Maybe next week?” Robbie suggested.

Jake bit down on the inside of his cheek. He had to do something to distract himself from the wave of anxiety that rushed over him. This was what he wanted. Robbie was being serious. Robbie was serious.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Bye, Robbie.” Once out the door and alone in the cool morning air, the scent of pinemingling in the air, he closed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered.

His worst fear had come true: he was trapped. And worse yet, he didn’t dislike it at all. In fact, he liked it quite a lot. Too much. He was already looking forward to seeing Robbie tonight and planning their next dalliance in that sexy manor that loomed behind him. He had to clear his head; find a way out that wasn’t leaving town in a couple of months without saying goodbye. He had to make Robbie understand that their relationship was still going nowhere, and they needed to break it off sooner rather than later if they wanted to avoid real heartbreak.

As always, that was easier said than done, and Jake found himself fantasizing about the previous night his entire drive home.

Isabel was up and about when he got back, and he took a deep breath before getting out of the car. He had to keep his cool around her, even if she already knew about him and Robbie. She would get her hopes up if she thought there was something more there, and no one could afford false hope right now.

“Hey, Aunt Isabel,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “Sorry I didn’t text you that I wasn’t coming home last night. Time got away from me, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” Isabel said, folding up the crocheted blanket she’d draped over the couch in a vain attempt to impress the realtor the previous day. “Were you with Robbie?”

“At his house, yeah.”