Husband Sit (Husband #1) (22 page)

“
Same
old
,” she said and I could almost hear her shrugging her thin shoulders.
Then, “
So did you tell him to cut off his dreads? I thought he had dreads.
”

Of
course, Fritha would prefer a guy with dreads. It was her kind of sexy.

“Yeah
I did,” I lied. “I like that slicked-back corporate look.”

In
fact, I liked the shorter hair on Finn
very
much. I’d thought he was
sexy before, now all I could think about was running my fingers through that
butterscotch hair. Not to mention licking my way up those cheekbones. He’d had
a restless boyish charm before. Now he looked like a
man
and that really
turned me on.

“
So
enjoy dinner
,” she said. “
And be nice to him. It’s not his fault he
married the wrong person
.”

I
frowned at that. “Then whose fault is it? I assume he married her without
coercion.”

Fritha
sighed, and it was such a tired sound. “
People mistake affection for love
all the time. He owed her a debt of gratitude and...it’s complicated. Ask him
to tell you about it.
”

“Sure,”
I said coolly, and finished the call as quickly as I could, unreasonably angry
that he’d been discussing his private life with Fritha instead of me. Granted,
I was the one who’d made myself completely unavailable for confidence-sharing,
but I still resented her knowing more about him. Which, again, was crazy when I
was determined to wipe him from my memory banks.

The
worst of it was, that now I had to force myself through dinner with him,
because driving to Fritha’s house and making her swear she’d never speak to him
again wouldn’t work. The harsh reality was that I could trust Finn more to keep
his word than I could my best friend. So I needed to front up to the restaurant
and listen. But that was all I was doing, then the rest of the holiday was mine.
I’d make damned sure of that.

I
was grumpy as I went back to the dining table and chewed my way through a
lukewarm grilled cheese sandwich and a much nicer tropical fruit salad. The
mango was particularly delicious, and juicy. For a couple of seconds my
restless imagination pictured me bringing Finn back after dinner and letting
him lick the juice off me.

Luckily,
the alcohol overdose debacle at the hospital had shown me I was too emotionally
involved to manage a one-night-stand. Anything physical between us now would
only deepen the bond I was trying to break. I had to be absolutely certain I
didn’t accidentally kiss him, or blow him, or any of the other things I’d been
fantasizing about for weeks. No back door action. And definitely no
cunnilingus!

So...that
meant everything was out of bounds. I would sit across the table from him,
listen to whatever he said, thank him for dinner, and waltz out of his life.
For good. He’d promised he wouldn’t stalk me, and I
should
would delete
his contact details from my phone.

Fritha
would be disappointed, but in the long run, it would be for the best. One day
I’d be able to think about romance again. But that day was not today. And a
married man was definitely not on my To Woo list.

Accordingly,
I was ready at 6:45 pm, perched on the edge of my bed, sick in the stomach with
nerves.

“No
touching,” I said to myself and nodded for good measure. Then I stood and
brushed the creases out of my lucky blue cocktail dress. Unlike the slutty red
one I’d worn to the airport to meet him, this one had some decorum about it. It
was the only real designer item I owned, an old Colette Dinnigan electric blue
silk, knee length with a sweetheart neckline and capped sleeves. It was a
‘classic’ that even Missy Lou approved of, and together with my silver sandals,
was the classiest outfit I owned. I figured it was the right thing to wear for
a last dinner with the love of my life.

Yeah,
I was up to that.

Not
that I was going to tell Finn. It would only make me look crazy to be pushing
him away. It would also give him an incentive to keep pursuing me—which would
be flattering, but unproductive. At the end of the day, I wanted to be happy. I
felt like I deserved that. And yes, linking up with Finn would feel delirious
to begin with. No doubt the sex would be spectacular, but I’d seen enough B
Grade movies to know that
the other woman
never ended up happy.

It
would not work.

 So
I needed to hold my resolve, despite manly cheekbones and sexy eyes, despite
swoon-worthy lips that might utter compliments, or worse, a declaration of
love. And most especially, despite my own desire not to hurt the people I love.
Rejecting Finn would hurt him. I knew that in advance. And damn him, he wasn’t
taking the sharp jerk-the-plaster-strip-off variety of rejection I’d given him.
He clearly wanted the lingering twist-the-knife goodbye, and that would cut
deep.

I
hated the thought of seeing that in his eyes, and while I waited for seven pm,
I grew more convinced that I wouldn’t be able to do it. Yet I had to. Habit saw
me pull out my phone for back-up, but I couldn’t call Fritha. I’d just told her
I was fine. That left Missy Lou and Angela. I hadn’t spoken to Ange in weeks,
so it would be rude—even for me—to ring her for back up. Not only that, she’d
want to be filled in on the whole background, and I wasn’t about to tell her
I’d been fucking a married man. So she might side with Fritha, thinking I
should give Finn a chance.

I
couldn’t risk that. It might tip me over the edge. No. I needed to nip this
vulnerability in the bud. Disapproval and arbitrary judgment were my best
weapons. There was only one person I could rely on for that.

I
dialed.

“
Are
you drunk again?
”

“No.
But I’m worried that I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life so far.”

“
I
see. Is this about Finn?
”

Dear
God she was perceptive.

“Yes
it is. I can’t be with him. I love him too much. But he’s blackmailed me into
having dinner with him. Then he’s promised to leave me alone. If I just listen.
Only, I’m scared I won’t be able to walk away.”

“
You
listen to me, Jillian Wilson
.”

I
held my breath and did just that.

“
Don’t
you marry for love. Ever. Instead, I want you to write a checklist of what you
want from a relationship, and you make damned sure you don’t settle for less.
Love isn’t anywhere near as important as...other factors
.”

Was
that a hitch in her breath? I hated myself then for pushing her through this.
“Thanks, L,” I whispered. “I needed to hear that.”

I
also needed to remember that she was trapped—I didn’t know why—but she had
clearly chosen for love and that had ended tragically.

There
was a long pause. Then she said. “
Love is for girlfriends and children, if
you have them. It’s not something you use to select a life partner
.”

“I
understand.”

“
Make
sure you do, Jill
.” She sounded perfectly sober. “
If you give in to
temporary gratification, you’ll live to regret it.
”

“Okay.”
I was nodding. “I’ll listen to him. Then I’ll leave.” The vision of me as a
lonely mistress sitting in her expensive flat waiting for an hour of his time
here or there flashed into my mind. I knew that wasn’t the life I deserved.

“
Good
girl
,” Louella said, as if she was my mother instead of someone my age. “
And
make him wait half an hour. That will unnerve him. He’ll be thrown off his game
and easier to control.
”

“Okay.”
I wasn’t experienced at controlling men, but in this situation, I could see it
would be helpful. If I went in soft, he might be able to sway me. Only, “I’m
nervous already. If I have to sit around for thirty minutes I’ll go nuts.”

“
Take
off your makeup and put it back on
.”

She
was smart! That was perfect advice.

I
ended the call and went into the bathroom. It took ten minutes to get it all
off and wash my face, then there was
no
way I was going down looking
like that, so I painstakingly reapplied it all and by then I was twenty minutes
late. I checked my phone. He hadn’t called me, and that was points in his
favor. I imagined he was just sitting there, lunching on his fingernails. So I
took my time ambling down to the restaurant several floors below, stopping to
check out the moonlit ocean on the way, showcased in the floor to ceiling walls
of the restaurant entry.

A
waitress showed me to Finn’s table in a back corner, undoubtedly chosen for
privacy, but it had an awesome view of the ocean and he’d left the seat facing
the window for me. Thoughtful.

He
rose immediately when he saw me approaching and stepped around the table.

I
didn’t want a hug. That would undo all my careful reserve, so I took a
deliberate step backward and thanked the waitress before turning to face him.
“Finn.”

He
stayed where he was but said, “Thank God you came,” and actually laid his hand
over his heart. “I thought I’d be drowned by this unrequited love, and—”

“You
will be,” I cut in, forcing myself to be harsh, to ignore the L word. “I’m only
here to listen so you’ll leave me alone, as you promised to in your note.” That
shut him up. “And by the way, if you go behind my back to see one of my
girlfriends again I’ll...”
What? Find him and tell him off? That’s probably
what he wanted.
“I’ll have you killed. I know people,” I said boldly, then
immediately I realized how idiotic that sounded. I’d just quoted a line out of
a movie. Probably a well-known movie.

He
blinked a few times, probably wondering if I was joking.

Talk
about starting badly! I tried to salvage some dignity by tilting my chin. “May
I sit?”

“Of
course.” He moved around and pulled my chair out for me, then pushed it in as I
sat. Despite best intentions, my imagination visualized a clipboard with a list
of
perfect partner attributes
where
old fashioned manners
got a
broad tick.

He
sat across from me with a crisp white tablecloth and gleaming silverware
between us. “So,” he straightened his shoulders. “I jumped the gun there with
the unrequited love thing. I’d planned to tell you that I love you in a more
romantic way than that.” He was frowning, and a treacherous part of me wanted
to rub my thumb against the tiny crease in his forehead. Then I wanted to strip
his beautifully tailored suit jacket off, loosen his tie with my teeth and grab
the two sides of his pale blue shirt and tear it open, popping buttons all over
the restaurant in the process.

Instead,
I said, “It’s pointless, really. It makes no difference to me that I love you.
Why would I care that you love me?”

Tell
that to my stupid heart that was singing madly at the idea that he loved me.
He’d actually said it out loud. Dear God I’d waited so long for that, hoping it
would give me a feeling of power in the relationship. I’d been sure that would
help me let go. Unfortunately, his declaration only made me love him
more.
So I’d just have to count on determination, backed up by Missy Lou’s example of
unhappiness. I didn’t want to go down that road.

His
frown deepened and it only made the stark lines of his face more masculine, and
impossibly more handsome. “People usually do care about that,” he said softly.

“I’m
not usual people.”

He
nodded. “I know that. On the one hand you’re spectacularly funny, and sexy and
smart—”

“And
on the other hand, I just fucked a young man seventy times in a fortnight.”

May
as well rub his nose in it.

He
nodded again and his voice hardened. “Not to mention that you got your ass
whipped and fucked.”

“And
I liked it.”

I’d
said it as a challenge, but I could feel myself heating up as I thought about
Finn smacking my ass with those big hands of his. There was also a distracting
feeling across my chest, as if my bra was suddenly uncomfortable. Were my
nipples hard? There was tingling there.

Finn’s
eyes had narrowed and grown darker. I could see he was angry. Maybe jealous.
Was I also turning him on? “I never thought I’d want to do something like
that.”

“But
now you do?”

He
nodded, his gaze pinning me where I sat. “I want to do everything that makes
you come.”

My
breath caught somewhere in my upper chest.

That
was the sexiest
thing I’d ever heard. I found myself licking my lips, and the faraway voice in
my mind that had been saying,
Take control. Tell him it’s over. Walk away
went suspiciously quiet. I did manage to clear my throat and speak. “You told
me you had something to say tonight. Was that it?”

“No.”

The
waitress arrived, and I struggled not to say
Leave us alone, I just want to
get this over with.
Instead, I ordered something. Wine. I don’t remember
what. I was too busy staring at Finn, feeling like I’d never wanted anyone as
much as I wanted him in that moment. My pulsed throbbed with it, low and warm
and tingling and ready, and I felt so breathless. If he’d wanted to take me
against the picture window beside us, I would have closed my eyes and cared less
what people thought.