Page 40 of Recklessly in Love

Restless and agitated, I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Joanie, pulling the bedroom door closed behind me. I walk through the living room and head to the kitchen to make coffee. I’ll think better with caffeine, though I feel pretty fucking defeated on the idea front right now.

I suddenly wish I’d thought to put socks on. The tiled floors are cold, and though I’d gone with all the bells and whistles for my bachelor pad, the heated floors take longer than I’ve got to start working their magic.

With a sigh, I drag the coffee maker across the granite countertop and pull the supplies out for my usual brew. The rich aroma fills the air, soothing me a bit. I lean against the counter and rub a hand over my face as I stare out the living room window at the quiet, snow-covered forest surrounding the house.

Despite the calmness I’d purposely designed for myself here, this whole thing with Ned has me shaking and doubting myself in other ways, too.

Really, how can I be of any use to Joanie with the town’s incorporation when I can’t even keep my own family in check? What kind of person does that make me?

And then there’s the reaction from my aunt and uncle. Their blind defense of Ned, their anger at me for calling out his behavior — it’s disheartening. They’ve always been my dad’s little soldiers, but this? This is a new low.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and wander to the living room, sinking onto the soft, brown leather couch. The worst part is that I know this will get back to my father. And that’s sure to stir up even more drama. As evidenced by his Christmas morning tirade, he’s never approved of my “abandonment” of the family business, and this will be one more thing for him to hold against me.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear Joanie approach until she’s beside me, with a concerned look, wearing only one of my T-shirts. It just goes to show how pissed off I am that it barely stirs me to see so much of her creamy skin on display and the outline of her soft, perky tits through the thin fabric.

“Hey,” she says softly, sitting down next to me. “I was surprised to wake up alone. You okay?”

I force a smile. “Yeah, just thinking about everything that needs to be done at the community center,” I lie.

She studies me for a moment, clearly not buying it, but for the first time possibly ever, she doesn’t push. I’m partly relieved and partly disappointed.

“Okay. Um. Are you going in today, then?” she asks tentatively.

Something’s off about her tone, but I’m too distracted by my bullshit to pull at the thread of whatever hers might be.

I shrug, rising from the couch. “Yeah, actually. I should put everything back so the center’s ready for tomorrow.”

“All right … well, I’ll dive into more research today. Don’t forget, Mia’s making dinner tonight,” she replies.

I grunt my understanding and dump the dregs of my coffee in the sink before heading upstairs for a shower. I’m just not capable of talking about this right now, which I know is making me an asshole. Which, in turn, makes me feel like even more of a failure. Definitely not how I saw the new year starting.

* * *

It only gets worse over the next few days. I spend every day at the community center, thankful for New Year’s resolutions and the influx of people who want to get fit. It’s exactly the distraction I need.

Joanie buries herself in her work and doesn’t even stop when I get home. She’s always polite and asks how my day was, but there’s a wall between us that wasn’t there before. As the week rolls by, she becomes more and more distant.

It’s not until the end of the week, when I’m showering at the center before heading home, that the massive erection I get soaping myself makes me realize we haven’t had sex since New Year’s Eve.

Every night, I’ve been going to sleep early, physically exhausted from the day, assuming she’d wake me up when she came to bed. But she never did. By morning, my dreams had chased me from sleep and dragged me deeper into my pit of self-flagellation.

How could I be so distracted not to realize we’d drifted so far? And why hasn’t she said anything?

I resist the urge to jerk off, intent on fixing this between us. Whatever it is that needs fixing.

And then, as I’m dressing, it hits me like a sledgehammer why Joanie wouldn’t seek me out for sex, why she’d be burying herself in research and not demanding to know what the hell my problem was this week.

She thinks I’m pulling away because she didn’t say “I love you” back. And like an idiot, I didn’t even realize it.

I hurry through the rest of my tasks for the day and am just about to head out when there’s a knock on the community center door.

Confused, I open it to find a stern-faced man in a suit.

“Gregory Tyler?” he asks.

“Yes?” I reply suspiciously.

He thrusts a packet of papers at me. “You’ve been served. Have a nice day.”

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