Page 2 of Contingently Yours
I still remember that comment from a woman I went home with from a club last year. She understood none of my jokes or references. I was never the type of person who needed an emotional connection, but damn, it would be nice to not feel like I was just thawed out after two decades of cryosleep.
Sitting up, I slide my hand down to Veronica’s and give it a squeeze. Flashing her a smile, I lean on my reliable charm. Thirty-five or not, I know I’ve at least still got that.
“What if we keep doing the same thing we’ve always done, but just…with each other?”
Why is she doing that head-rearing thing again? Arching a brow, the corner of her mouth ticks up. “Are you…asking me to be exclusive with you?”
My phone starts buzzing on the nightstand, but I ignore it. This conversation needs to happen, so I’m not at the mercy of hitting the bar scene and hook-up apps anymore. It’s too fucking tiresome.
Shrugging like it’s no big deal, because it isn’t, I stretch my arms behind my head, lacing my fingers together. “I mean, why not? We both get each other and know what the other likes. We both work and travel all the time. It works. It’d save us the disappointment of shitty hook-ups. Right?” Snapping my fingers, I chuckle, recalling the perfect example. “Remember that guy you said you met at that convention in Denver last year? The one who grunted every three or four sentences and kept telling you he liked your eyebrows? Think of all the weirdos you could avoid if we just met up more often.”
“Wow, Andrew, that is…a tempting offer,” she chuckles, straightening up. “But listen to what you’re saying. If you want to settle down, then make the effort and go find someone to settle down with. We’ve never beenthatto each other. We have…fun. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s always been.”
“Who said anything about settling down?”
Rolling her eyes, she moves back to my dresser and fetches her purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she calls back, “Being exclusive, sleeping with only each other; that’s almost the same thing as settling down. It might be fine and dandy until the other person meets someone they want to settle down with, but then what happens? Someone’s left disappointed. So, in the end, it’s not any better than what you’re used to. The outcome will still be the same, just prolonged.”
God, I hate when she wakes up before I do. It gives her time to be more mentally cognizant than me. And how did this become a deep conversation when it should have only been a really good offer that would solve both of our problems?
“Well, you won’t have to worry aboutmemeeting someone to settle down with. Are you trying to tell me you’re waiting for Mr. Right?”
Turning around, she pinches her eyes shut and groans. “Andrew,” she huffs with a laugh, “most people want to settle down eventually. Just because I work and travel all the time doesn’t mean I don’t keep my eyes open.”
Ew. Who is she? How come I never knew this?
“That’s disgusting. Please don’t ever talk like that again.”
Snickering, she rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket off the hook on the wall. “Don’t worry. I haven’t met him yet. I’ll call you when I get back.”
Folding my arms, I grimace as my phone buzzes again. I was dead to the world and wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t woken me up to the worst fuck-buddy goodbye in history.
“I’ll answer if I’m available,” I call out, hoping I sound as spiteful as I feel.
“Sure,” she says, sounding way too amused. Shaking her head, she blows me a kiss. “For now, why don’t you answer the call you do have? It could be Lou.”
This isn’t funny. The first offer of being something close to a boyfriend I’ve ever made to anyone is being received with mockery.
Swiping up my phone, I see that it is, in fact, my Uncle Lou’s real estate office. Son of a bitch.
Turning the phone so she can see the screen, I waggle it in the air. “See? Youdoknow me. Think of how convenient it would be not to have any surprises. You could be waking up next week to some guy’s phone going off in Brussels, thinking he’s Mr. Right, only to find out it’s his mother calling him to come do her weekly chin whisker trimming for her.” Clicking on theacceptbutton, I sneak a peek at Veronica to see if my words of wisdom are sinking in. “Hey, gorgeous, what’s up?”
It’s not Lou. It’s our sixty-year-old receptionist, Vera. She also happens to be my aunt, but you get more flies with honey than vinegar.
“I know you don’t mean that, but it’s always nice to hear. That’s why I call you.”
“Well, I am your favorite nephew.”
“No. That would be Chad.”
“What? How in the hell is Chad your favorite?”
That is just not possible. My older brother Chad is the most boring human being on the planet.
“He buys me those candles I like for my birthday every year.”
Veronica is busy touching up her lipstick in the mirror on the wall by the door. I take it as a good sign that she hasn’t left yet. The woman puts up with my shit and has manners. How does she not see that we’re perfect for each other? We both love sex and don’t get hurt feelings or have to gut our souls with sappy overtures.
“So, listen, nephew-mine,” Vera segues. “We’ve got new clients coming in at ten o’clock. Can you get that tush of yoursout of bed and in here by then? I’m worried Lou’s in over his head with this one, and it’s too good of a deal to miss out on.”
