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Guilt gnawed at me. Clive and I met not long after Elyse moved out, and he had been a good friend during that whole period, even before we decided to work together. I was so low, and Clive showed up for me. Took me to baseball games to get me out of the house, went out to dinner with me so I wasn’t alone all the time, sat around with me in my backyard to shoot the shit. He was a good person. Agreatperson.
And I was sneaking behind his back with hisdaughter.
It was a heavy secret to keep, but I wasn’t ready to tell Clive just yet. What I had with Marcie—even as new as it was, it felt precious and beautiful, something I had to protect so it could grow. Maybe even flourish so we both felt secure in the relationship—especially Marcie.
If—when—Clive found out, I had little doubt he’d be furious. But when I thought about walking away from Marcie, I couldn’t fucking breathe. For me, it wasn’t a choice.
I checked my watch and cursed to myself. Marcie was coming by in just a few minutes so we could go furniture shopping.
“I gotta go,” I said quickly. “I’ll run those numbers and get them to you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Sounds good, man,” Clive replied. “Take care.”
“You too,” I said, then hesitated. “And Clive? If this woman is worth it, you’ll know.”
He was silent for a handful of seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and thick with emotion. “That’s the thing. She is.”
* * *
“Not a sectional,” Marcie said, slashing a decisive hand through the air. “You get a sectional and that locks you into one room layout forever. I vote a sofa and loveseat.”
I settled into the big, overstuffed leather couch. “But I like this sectional,” I argued lightly. “Guys my size need industrial-strength furniture. I don’t want a tiny couch that I can’t get comfortable on.”
She rolled her beautiful eyes. “Your choices aren’t monstrous sectionalortiny couch. There’s a middle ground. There’s an entire store full of furniture here.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her down into the cushions to sit next to me. “Just try this one out with me,” I said, settling an arm around her shoulders. “It’s so supportive. Plenty wide enough for us to have wild sex on it.”
I turned and dropped a quick kiss on her smiling lips, and another on her forehead as she leaned her head against my chest.
“You’re always thinking about sex,” she muttered. Her fingertips scratched against the front of my t-shirt. “Sometimes I think you’re hornier than a teenager.”
I laughed. “For you, maybe.” Okay, definitely for her.
I rose to my feet and pulled her up behind me. Hand-in-hand, we strolled to the next living room set, roughly the one-millionth in a vast furniture store with about eighty-five billion options.
The previous two weeks had been some of the best of my life as Marcie taught me all the things I needed to know about my new home. She was working like crazy lately, but she still made time for me. Forus. Sometimes both of us were too tired to do anything more than cuddle, but other nights, we fucked like it was our last night on earth.
“What about this one?” she said, stopping in front of a stylish sofa and ottoman.
I…hated it. “It’s a little trendy, don’t you think?”
She elbowed me, a teasing smile on her lips. “You’re just old. They didn’t have couches this good during the Eisenhower administration.”
“Hey,” I protested. “I’ll have you know that Abraham Lincoln himself sat on my old couch, just after I bought it.”
“You jackass,” she said with a fun-loving laugh. She tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and stepped closer to the couch. “Seriously, though, I like it a lot.”
“I don’t know.” I frowned and poked at one of the cushions. “It really is pretty trendy. What will you think about it in ten years? Maybe you’ll hate it.”
At my spoken assumption that we’d still be together in a decade, she turned and looked at me with her mouth open, but no words came out. An excruciating second passed between us, and I considered grabbing her to kiss the shit out of her, just to make it stop and relieve the tension I’d just created. But before I could make the decision, she closed her mouth and moved on to the next couch.
What did I want her to say?
But I already knew the answer.
That in ten years, it wouldn’t matter what furniture filled our house, because we would still have each other. And that would be the most important thing. But it was too soon to make those kinds of forever promises for each other, even if I woke up every morning wondering if I could hold in my feelings for Marcie for even a second longer. Somehow, I did, but it was getting increasingly difficult to do.
It didn’t come up for the rest of the shopping trip, but the awkwardness didn’t hang heavy over us, either, which was one of the things that I loved aboutus. That we could move on from something so serious without it hanging over us like a black, depressing cloud. Instead, we went right back to laughing and joking as we settled on a nice sofa and loveseat combo. After I handed over my credit card and made delivery arrangements, she threaded her fingers through mine, and I knew that we were still okay.
