Page 61 of Outside the Lines
Ian answered before I could. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced my way for confirmation, and I nodded. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said. “The three of us.”
“Oh, good.” Her exhale was one of relief. “Why doesn’t one of you open the wine, and the other can help me put dinner on the table?”
Practical. That was Lydia. She knew tasks smoothed over awkwardness. I took the wine so Ian would have a few moments alone with her.
While digging the corkscrew out of the kitchen drawer, I studied the label. Quite a nice bottle, and another indication Ian had been hurting. You didn’t bring a forty-buck bottle of wine to someone who was only a fuck when his wife asked you to dinner.
Lydia and Ian would never be lovers—Ian didn’t blink at women and that was fine with both of us—but the fact he’d come here becauseshe’dasked, with the bottle of wine in my hand, and thathe’dinvited her to watch us have sex back then, meant he cared about her too. Quite a lot, I suspected.
I certainly needed that. So did she. And if this were to work in the long term . . .
Oh my God.
The reality of the situation crashed down around me, and my hands stilled. I let out a breath and stared at the wall across from the island. We were going to try to make this work. Not at all the outcome I’d expected when Lydia had told me she’d run into Ian and pretty much ordered him to dinner. I’d figured we’d yell, he’d storm out, and it would be over. Guess I didn’t know everything.
Here I was, the one who hated miscommunication and I hadn’t bothered to verify Ian and I were on the same page. Too blissed out of my mind with sex and submission. When I’d whispered “I love you” to him and he’d replied, I’d not followed up, not told him it was more than sex.
This wasso much morethan sex.
“Si, the wine, please.” Lydia’s voice.
Right. I finished uncorking the bottle, grabbed three glasses and headed to the table.
She’d cooked chili. Easy enough to hold on the stove for a while, and if Ian had stormed out, the leftovers would have frozen well. Ian sat, his hands tucked under his thighs, and seemed entirely overwhelmed and uncertain again. I poured his wine, filling his glass. Not proper protocol to serve him first, but fuck that. He was our guest.
He stared at the level. “I have to drive home, you know.”
“Do you?”
Lydia swallowed a laugh. Ian raised his head. “I— Do I?”
I gave a shrug and started filling Lydia’s glass, but she halted me before it reached half-full. “I have deadlines, so it’s back to work for me after this.”
Which would leave me and Ian alone, if he wanted to stay. Before I filled my own glass, I spoke. “I can take half your wine, Ian, if you’d like.”
He swung his attention to Lydia. “Are you heading back to the shop so Simon and I can have makeup sex?”
She did laugh at that. “Idohave deadlines. Haven’t gotten as much done as I’ve wanted to recently.” Her gaze shifted to me. “Simon needed me.”
Ian studied his plate.
She cleared her throat. “But, I also want to give you two the space to work out whatever it is you have to work out.” A sly-ass smile.
Ian nodded, and his lips lifted to match hers before he wet them with his tongue. “Then I’ll keep the wine.”
Someonethought he was getting laid tonight. I poured my own glass. Whether Ian got his wish was yet to be seen. I wasn’tquiteover being pissed.
We passed around the chili and bread and settled into eating.
Ian relaxed after the second sip of wine. When he set down the glass, he looked between Lydia and me. “How does something long-term between us”—he gestured between me and him—“work forallof us?” Another wave, this time including Lydia. “I mean, we’re not lovers,” he said to Lydia. “And I’m still gay.”
She set down her fork. “Well, you’d be Simon’s partner and I’d be Simon’s partner and we’d be metamours.”
“Wait, there’s a word for it?” Ian’s voice wobbled.
“There’s a word foreverything,” Lydia said. “But mostly, we’d be friends.” She paused. “Ihope. I like you, Ian. You’re a dumbass sometimes, but so is Simon.”
I chuckled. “I am, it’s true.”
