Page 43 of Conflicted
“Fuck,” she yelled.
Bob took the glass from her hand and grabbed the tissue box from the coffee table. Ruby glared at the box, then at the man, before she pulled out a wad of tissues and dabbed the cocktail from her shirt.
“Why do you have a tissue box at hand?” Ruby scrunched up the tissues.
“Don’t you always end up crying?” he teased.
“Do not,” She fisted her hands around the tissues and considered throwing the ball in his face, “tempt me.”
He grinned. “Mature.”
Okay, not throwing things. She crossed her arms over her chest and squinted at him. I’m a responsible adult.
Completely unfazed by her mighty temper that was about to come down on his head, Bob tapped her nose. “You’re too tense. In the last fifteen minutes, you’ve downed your first margarita, stared into a second, scowled and glared and considered throwing things at me.”
I’m going to beat him over his psychologist’s head with a pillow.
He just laughed. “And now you want to punch me.” He sobered and sank onto the coffee table. “You’re not mad at me, so what’s the matter?”
“Dunno.” She plucked at the wet spot the margarita left on her shirt.
“Jewel is doing well, how’s your father?”
Ruby lifted a shoulder. “Okay, I guess.” She sighed. “I have to admit he’s less of an asshole than I thought, and Jewel is partly to blame for the fuckup situation as well.”
“Good.” Bob patted her calf. “Work?”
More enthusiastically now, Ruby launched herself in a retelling of her week and how Rebecca and she were considering hiring a part-time receptionist and an apprentice.
“So, parents and work aren’t a problem, which leaves the men.” Bob dissected and Ruby stiffened.
“They are okay.”
Bob hummed.
“The men don’t fight over me anymore.”
He nodded.
“The play is good. Great, actually.”
Bob still stayed silent.
Ruby pulled in a big gulp of air and confessed, “I never considered polyamory, but I’m yearning for...” she considered the right word and finally settled on, “more.”
“Given the hard time you’re having confessing it to me, I assume you haven’t told them.”
Ruby shrugged.
“You aren’t communicating openly and honestly about your desires but retreating into yourself.”
Ruby lifted an eyebrow. I can do the silent game, too.
“Have you discussed this with your men?”
Ruby tossed the wad of tissues on the coffee table. “They’re not mine.”
“Answer the question.” His dominant tone sent tingles down her spine.
