Page 99 of What About Us
We’re going to have to talk about the elephant in the room sooner or later because he’s obviously pissed. But what does he expect? We agreed to keep things casual between us. It’s for the best, even if he is mad. I can’t even get myself off properly anymore without thinking about him. Every time I try, I end up thinking about his cock and all the delicious shit he said to me. No. This is the right move, because I can’t fantasize about my best friend forever.
A text comes through from Brad, letting me know he’s here.
I slip my feet into my heels and take one last look at myself in the mirror before heading downstairs. I grab my bag off the banister and drape a sweater over my arm. Hudson’s eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, while Paige wolfs down a grilled cheese sandwich, eyes zeroed in on the TV.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, hand on the doorknob.
He throws me a glance. “He’s not coming to the door?”
I shrug. “I told him I’d meet him out front.”
“Chivalry really is fucking dead,” he grumbles around a mouthful of Lucky Charms. A bit of milk dribbles down his chin before he swipes at it. It’d be cute if he wasn’t being such a dick.
I pin him with a look. “What the hell does that mean?”
“If you’re gonna put out, the least he can do is meet you at the door.”
I stare at him. Who the hell is this guy and where is my best friend? “Who says I’m putting out?”
“You, in those shoes and that top,” he huffs out, eyes glued to the TV as he takes another bite of his cereal.
My face heats and I drop my eyes. Even if he’s not looking at me, I don’t want him to see how much hiswords sting.
It dawns on me then that he did this on purpose. He picked these heels so this conversation would happen. Instead of talking to me about how he’s feeling, he pulls some passive aggressive macho bullshit like this. Whether it is to shame me for being busy all week or because I ditched our plans for dinner with someone else doesn’t matter.
Right as I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself for making me feel bad about going out, he mumbles, “Night, Jameson. Have fun.”
I leave without saying goodbye.
Chapter 36
Hudson
I’m making my waydown the stairs from checking on Paige when I hear her key in the door. I expect her to come in, but she doesn’t. Crossing the living room, I swipe my phone off the coffee table and head into the kitchen to throw away the empty beers I’ve smashed in the couple of hours she’s been gone. The last thing I want is Finn walking into my pathetic pity party, flushed from her date and on a high that I didn’t give her.
I was such a dick about those shoes. And what the fuck was that comment about her top? Fuck. She has every right to be pissed at me. She looked fucking stunning, with her tiny crop top, skintight jeans, all that hair in thick curls, and long lashes. She smelled so fucking good. Her going out looking like that made my stomach turn.
I’m not pissed at her. I’m pissed at Pop. I’m pissed at myself for not speaking my mind. I’m pissed that he took it upon himself to demand something of me that I’m not ready to do. Don’t even get me started on my ex-wife. And I took out all my frustration on Finnley. Guilt gnaws at my chest. I’m such an asshole.
I brace my hands on the counter, letting my head drop between my shoulders. Finn being out without me hurts. Her blowing me off for another manhurts. Instead of talking to her, I used the shoes to make her feel bad. Like a ten-year-old.
I’m just so fucking confused. We had a good time the other night. That video call was hot as fuck, and we talked for an hour straight afterward. We’ve always had a connection, but leave it to me to wrap that shit up in my feelings and make it something it obviously wasn’t.
It’s no one’s fault but my own. I let my mind run crazy the night we got married. The vows. The way she pulled me in and called me ‘husband.’ That kiss. I’ve probably been reading too much into this whole thing. Maybe this really is just sex for her. It is what we agreed to.
It’s been nearly five minutes, and she still hasn’t come inside. Curiosity wins, and against my better judgment, I open the camera app, navigating to the doorbell feed. What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.
When the camera connects, I hear her let out a light laugh.
“Well thanks for dinner, Brad. It was delicious.”
I can only make out the side of his face—since he’s standing just off-center of the camera—and Finn’s back. Brad lifts a hand and wraps it around her waist, his fingers brushing her soft skin. I grip my phone so hard I think the screen will crack.
Two words scream in my mind.
She’s mine.
I’m about to close out of the app when he says, “The night doesn’t have to end here. I could come in, see where things go.” His thumb brushes her back.
