Page 5 of Never Less

“You’re right,” he says shortly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been with Lily for longer than you were with Mom.”

I place the plate in the dish drainer and raise my hands in defeat. “Message heard loud and clear.”

“We’re fine,” he says, but the agitation in his voice—and all over Liliana’s face since they got here—leads me to believe otherwise.

“All right. Sorry for overstepping.”

Nate doesn’t say anything else—just gets to his feet and heads upstairs. It’s what I should expect. We were closer when he was younger, but over the past five years or so, we’ve sort of drifted apart. Some of it was him moving out of town, but I think most of it has been that he’s needed space to become his own person. And… well, sometimes it’s hard for me to step back and let him learn from his mistakes.

With a sigh, I turn to face the sink. These counters aren’t going to clean themselves, and I should probably give the kitchen a sweep, too. I didn’t remodel this place into exactly what I want just to let it stay messy.

When I redid the house, I made sure to keep the common areas down here as open as possible. The stairs leading to the second floor are in the living room, which bleeds right into the dining room and kitchen. The high ceilings and large windows help with creativity—at least that’s what I read in some article years ago—and the second-floor balcony overlooks it all.

It’s a beautiful piece of architecture in my humble opinion.

Just as I grab the broom, a door shuts upstairs. I turn just in time to see Liliana peeking down here from the balcony railing. When I catch her eye, she gives me what I think is supposed to be a smile but looks more like a grimace.

That, however, is about the last thing on my mind as she makes her way to the first floor. I lose sight of her for a few seconds, but once she’s on the stairs, I have a perfect view. And goddammit, the sight of her dressed in that tiny white bikini has my mouth going dry.

Liliana is all long legs, a toned stomach, and breasts that look like they’d fit perfectly in my hands. Her hair is still tied up, but a few strands have fallen loose and frame her face.

She looks…

Off limits, you stupid fuck.

“You sure you’re not up for a swim?” Liliana asks, and I can’t help but notice the forced cheerfulness in her tone.

“Not tonight,” I say, looking anywhere but her. My grip on the broom tightens. If I get in that pool with her, and we end up close enough to touch, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from sliding a hand down her body. And if I did that, then I’d probably keep going until I did something I couldn’t take back.

“Okay,” Liliana says, and I realize she’s made it all the way to the door to the pool area. “You going to bed, then?”

“Uh. Probably.”

She nods. “’Night.”

Before I can respond, she turns, and my gaze lands on her ass. Even if she gave me time to answer, I wouldn’t be able to, so it’s probably for the best that the door is already shut behind her when I come to.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. What the hell is wrong with you, Marcus?

I go back to sweeping, but my strokes are so aggressive that crumbs and dirt end up flying halfway across the tile. If I didn’t have morals, I’d already be in the pool with her hoisted onto the ledge and my head buried between her thighs. I’d make her scream loud enough for my son to hear so he can get a good reminder of what he’s squandering.

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.

I’m not sure if I’m talking about my son or myself.

When I risk a glance outside, Liliana is standing in the shallow end of the pool. Her shoulders are slightly drooped, and her head is hanging as she watches the water ripple around her. But then she looks up toward the sky, and I catch a glimpse of her expression.

What I see there is something I’ve felt a million times before—more so in recent years. It’s a loneliness so deep that it feels like it’s embedded in your bones. It leaves you lost and wondering if you’ll ever feel the type of connection you had at one point in your life.

I freeze, broom still in hand, while I stare at Liliana. My son’s girlfriend. A strong, kind, determined woman who shouldn’t be feeling that kind of loneliness. Not when the man who loves her is right upstairs.

Yet there she is. Her chest heaves with a long sigh, and something tugs at my heart. Something wrong. Something dangerous.

I should ignore it.

I should go to bed.

Gritting my teeth, I place the broom back in its closet and step into the living room. But I never make it to the stairs.

---