Page 36 of Both Sides Now

I clear my throat and rub my palms against my pants.

Time to get it together, Calli. For God’s sake.

“Well, if I interrupted your binge watching, I apologize, although I still think your claim of being a Fawlty Towers fan is bollocks.”

His dry chuckle rises up into the heavy air surrounding thebar, as his fingers drag the condensation across his glass. “You'd be wrong. My mom loved the show, and I grew up watching the reruns. We still sneak in an episode or two when I visit. It's my definition of family bonding time. I take it you’re not a fan of the show?”

“On the contrary, I love it, but Charlie hated it with a passion. Threatened to chuck a shoe through the television whenever it came on.”

Keegan swivels on the barstool, facing me. "Tell me about Charlie."

I bite my lip and shake my head. "You don't want to hear about my husband."

He takes another sip from his drink, but his eyes never waver from my face. "Sure, I do. We're friends, right? Friends know these things."

Friends. What a comforting, warm, and wholly awful term.

That word sticks in my craw in a most uncomfortable way, even though I’m the one who first used the descriptor.

Deep down, I want him to rail against it, declaring we are far more than friends. That this delicious tension building between us should not be ignored, but rather, explored fully.

Some declaration that my feelings are not one-sided, or the sad lamentations of a broken widow. That night, for those brief moments, Keegan made me feel desirable. Beautiful. Wanted.

In short, he made mefeel.

After so many months of feeling nothing but sorrow, I crave that heat.

Even if a future with Keegan isn’t a possibility.

Hell, at least he's a lovely distraction. That counts for something, right?

And our brief interlude plays on repeat through my dreams, both sleeping and awake. I chew my nail, reliving the memory of Keegan’s mouth against mine, the feel of him pressed against me, his body daring me to argue his advances.

That man’s mouth …

"You okay?"

Keegan's innocent question jerks me from my x-rated daydream. "Sure. Why do you ask?"

He motions to my cheeks. “You’re flushed. Guess the whiskey really is warming you up.”

Sure, we'll go with that answer. "I'm fine.”

Another smile quirks his lips. “You sure?”

Of nothing.

I motion to the barkeep and order a water. Time to downgrade into small talk before my fuzzy feelings take over and I throw all caution to the wind.

And throw myself at the gorgeous man seated next to me.

A brilliant idea right now. A terrible one in the morning, when I’m sober and alone. Again.

“You asked about Charlie. Let's see … he worked in banking?—”

Keegan shakes his head, waving his hand to halt my end of the conversation. "Don't feed me the bullshit information. Tell me the good stuff. Why did you love him?"

I sigh and smile as my darling Charlie enters the forefront of my mind. “It’s been so long since anyone has asked me about him.”

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