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It wasn’t just her voice or beauty that captivated me. It was the way she looked at him. For just one moment in time, for one clarifying second of my life, I wished I was another man; the man who stood in front of me with the adoration of the woman next to him.
“I can see that,” she said to him with a smile as I caught a small piece of their conversation. I felt the corners of my chest fold in painfully.
“Right this way,” the hostess said to the smiling couple. A feeling of loss came over me in that moment, although I couldn’t understand why. It was a pain that shook me fiercely and I had to put my hand on the wall next to me to steady myself. The hostess greeted me and I found my composure, though the ache in my chest lingered.
“Name, sir?”
“Volz,” I forced out. “The other half of my party is running late. Would you be able to get us in at seven?” I asked, my gaze still focused in the direction of the woman who left me breathless that was no longer there.
“Sure,” she said, eyeing me appreciatively before scribbling in her guestbook.
“I’ll be at the bar,” I said, ignoring her exaggerated stare. I walked downstairs to the basement bar I frequented often. It had an eerie, but at the same time, inviting feel. Savannah was infamous for modern décor in historic space, but this bar seemed completely authentic to the era of the house. The walls were lined with exposed brick and wood. The faint and familiar stroke of keys being played on the piano could be heard over the hushed conversations. The stone fireplace was lit, welcoming me as I sat at the small, formidable table next to it. I sipped two fingers of whiskey as I watched the red embers glow, thinking about the voice of the woman who had just unglued me in mere seconds. I had just fucked Jill for hours, and met a promising new prospect in Sandra. What I couldn’t get my head around was the new crack in my once solid foundation. I was completely consumed by the way she regarded him. Did I want that? Why was I so envious?
Was Jill’s outburst guilting me into wanting something more?
This had to be guilt, pure and simple.
I shook my head in dismissal, drained my tumbler then nodded a thank you to the waitress as she replaced my empty glass.
I texted Heidi to let her know that I was at the bar but got a verbal reply.
“I see you, bonehead.” She laughed as she joined me. Fresh martini in hand, she scrutinized me as she took her first sip.
“You look guilty. Whose heart did you break today?” she asked as she set her glass on the table. I studied my sister, whose eyes matched mine. One could easily tell we were family. She smiled at me, but I didn’t let her question go unanswered.
“Another failed attempt at casual dating,” I said dryly. “And I’m not sharing.” Noticing the slight redness around her eyes, I realized the reason for her late arrival. “Heidi, why do you insist on entertaining every man that gives you a minute of attention? I told you this one was a total waste of time. I believe my words were, ‘If in the first few months you have to fight for his attention in any way, he is not interested.’ Not in the way you want him to be. “
“I know, I just...” She sipped her martini again, averting her eyes before meeting mine as she found her words. “Don’t you ever get tired of being alone, Rhys?” I opened my mouth to give my usual answer, the one I was forced to give at every family gathering for the last ten years, but the words wouldn’t come. Twenty minutes ago, my answer would have been a definite no. Twenty minutes ago, I had no issue stating that I would never settle down. When I didn’t give her an answer, she smirked. “There is hope for you yet, brot
her.”
“I’m rarely alone. I have girlfriends,” I reminded her.
“You have dogs that bark and beg disguised as women. Really, Rhys, who the hell are you to give relationship advice?” She popped an olive into her mouth, her resentful stare showcasing her contempt for the harsh truth I just delivered. She didn’t know about my lifestyle, but she had met a few of my subs and had realized quickly my relationship dynamics were different from others. Though I always treated my dates with nothing but the utmost care, it was easy to tell the relationship was purely sexual. Heidi was the only one I trusted to be social with that part of my life. I sipped my whiskey.
“I’m not in any position to give you advice, but since you decided to run to me with your issues instead of a more qualified girlfriend, I’ll give you this. I’m honest. I tell them exactly what I want up front. Instead of planning your life around a kiss or a rare soft look they may gift you, why don’t you try listening to them first? I’m pretty sure he was passive about dating. If he was more aggressive, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Rhys, just...let it go. I came for dinner, not a lecture from my brother who hasn’t had a steady girlfriend since grade school.” She swallowed the contents of her glass, looking as if she would rather be anywhere but at a table with me.
“Heidi, I’m sorry you’re upset,” I said, knowing I was being a dick. “Listen to me, you are worth it,” I said, catching her eyes, hoping she would hear me. “You are. A man’s needs are simple and yours will always be complex. Wait for your aggressor.”
Her eyes were now full of tears as she looked at me, a picture of fresh pain with a ghost of a smile haunting her face. “How can you not want to experience this, Rhys? Doesn’t it look like fun?” She laughed and I laughed with her as I ordered her a fresh drink for each hand.
After dinner, I watched my sister drive away, furious she hadn’t let me call a cab or drive her home myself.
I was sure she was on her way to try and convince the object of her affection to reconsider.
Restless from the day’s events, I made my way back to The Barracks, and gave pause when a pair of startling blue eyes greeted me at the bar. I sat next to her with a grin. “Sandra.”
Present Day
Christmas sucks.
“Violet, come hang your ornament,” my mother called to me from the living room as I stood in the kitchen staring at my phone. “Can you just do it, Mom?” I asked, pouring my fourth cup of bourbon with a splash of eggnog.
“No, ma’am. Thirty-three years, it’s tradition,” she said to me as I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me!” I shook my head, my cup halfway to my mouth, knowing she hadn’t seen it. She was a damn freak of nature.
“Call Rhys and have him come over and bring the baby,” she said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing my eggnog out of my hand and capping the bourbon. “What’s the matter with you?”
