Page 23 of Fragile Love (Fragile 3)
THE LIVING ROOM STILL smelled like Cayden. She was positive it had to be from her being oversensitive to him. His sweet but musky scent was one of the first things she’d noticed about him, and after what felt like forever being broken up and arguing with him, she was in tune with his presence around her house. She inhaled again. It smelled so good.
She signed. Despite how thrilled she was to have him back in her life where it finally felt right, she couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt about being glad he was leaving.
I shouldn’t feel guilty, she reminded herself. Couples aren’t supposed to be together literally all day, every day. I’ve been with him for a week now since he flew out to Rodney to be with me. He’s been amazing. Above and beyond amazing. But he’s gotta need some breathing room, too, right? It was busy in her little house. Two grown men, one needing crutches to move around, plus the cats seemed underfoot and she had work to catch up on as well. She needed the space just as badly as he did, of course, but she’d noticed that he had really started to withdraw since arriving back home.
Like halfway through dinner last night, he’d grown strangely quiet. It had nothing to do with what the three of them were talking about. Sure, he was always quieter when Andrew was around, but as far as she could tell he had been enjoying listening to her and Andrew bouncing silly stories back and forth. She’d done her best to pull him into the conversation as much as possible, but as their plates of spaghetti slowly emptied she noted the glassy look in his eyes. She had only seen it a few times before, since Cayden was cool-tempered and laid back the majority of the time.
But she did know it meant something was on his mind. Something serious. Her first instinct was that it had something to do with their activities before dinner—the activities that resulted in her bedspread and pillows being on the floor and one corner of her fitted sheet coming undone. How Andrew had snored through the whole thing, she had no idea.
Trying not to show her concerns on her face, since Andrew’s eyes were locked on her, she smiled and acted like nothing was happening, having to silently attempt to convince herself that it had nothing to do with Andrew. It had been a great time; they hadn’t messed around in her house in months. The one time they had been frisky with each other since Cayden had left for Los Angeles was at his house, and she didn’t want to remind herself of that. Seducing him when they were technically broken up—after a heated argument in her kitchen, after he
had flown back to try to fix things with her—wasn’t one of her proudest moments.
Pretending that nothing was niggling at the back of her mind for the next couple of hours was unspeakably hard. Cayden barely said anything after he got the dazed look, and Lillian refused his offer to help clean up. She refused Andrew’s offer as well, and sent them away to hopefully get to know each other better. She knew it was a silly wish. Cayden clearly didn’t want to be around people right now. Maybe he was tired, or stressed from work and the need to get back to L.A. She didn’t have the courage to ask, so she spent the time wondering while doing the dishes.
He floated away while Andrew hung back in the kitchen, letting their conversation flow from topic to topic until his eyelids began to droop. He finally admitted exhaustion and returned to his room for the night. Once she heard his door close, she peeked out into the living room and saw Cayden sitting on the couch, reading something intently on his phone, every now and then punching his screen with his fingertips in response to a message. The cats desperately tried to grab his attention by pawing at his thighs and meowing, but he took zero notice of them.
Lillian figured it was better to leave him alone until he had processed whatever it was he needed to process. She felt a little like a stranger in her own home for the next hour or so, tiptoeing around to prepare for bed, doing her best to keep quiet so as not to distract him. A book she’d been reading sat on the sofa beside him, but something about Cayden’s energy was sending her the message not to bother him. Luckily, she had a back-up read on her bedside table, and after washing her face she nestled into bed to read.
She’d fallen asleep with her book and woke up just enough when he got into bed with her, turning on his side to face away from her. A little alarmed, she had curled up next to him and asked if he was okay. He muttered that, yeah, he was all right, taking care of some client stuff and he was just tired now—and that was the end of that conversation.
The next morning and up until this point in the afternoon hadn’t been much different. Cayden was physically in the house with Lillian and Andrew, but mentally he was somewhere else. Andrew noticed a little—it was hard not to, when Cayden seemed to have glued his hand to his chin in thought and was almost wearing a hole in the hallway from pacing—but said nothing to Lillian. She had only shrugged, and continued doing her thing, not feeling very lively when Cayden was being so absent. Andrew tried to pass the time by enjoying the last few days of having nothing to do before the appointments and physical therapy started, but eventually grew bored and disappeared for a nap.
Lillian kept out of Cayden’s way, who had gotten back to pounding messages on his phone, until the house grew even more quiet. That was when she had noticed him asleep with the cats, who at last were getting precious naptime with their beloved Cayden.
She took a breath, feeling almost relieved when Cayden was finally going back over to his place for a while. Leaning over the edge of the couch, she stroked the cats’ backs. “Sweet babies,” she whispered to them, feeling the vibration of their soft purrs in their chests. “Cayden will come back soon. He really needs to go back to Los Angeles and get all his clients situated before he’s back for good. He won’t be distracted like this for much longer.”
Before going to see Andrew, she opened a window in the kitchen to let some fresh air in. That should help make it a little clearer and livelier in here, she thought, taking a deep breath. I’ll have to close it in a little while. Gosh, it has really cooled off quickly this year.
Andrew was sitting on the chair in his room. He had turned it to face the huge bookshelf. Hearing her come into the room, he turned and gave her a smile. “You’ve really got a collection here, Lillian,” he said, running his fingers along the spines of the books. “I mean, there are encyclopedias, a couple of biographies, and a million novels—what don’t you have over here?”
“Kids’ books,” she laughed. “Did you see the antique shelf?”
“Yeah, I did.” Andrew gingerly pulled one out; its edges were worn and ragged, but it was in good condition. “What’s the oldest one you have?”
“I think from 1920. The rest aren’t that old.”
“This one is from the ’40s. Where do you get all these?”
“I got a lot with Amelia.” Lillian sat on the bed, crossing her legs under her. “Remember that phase we went through when we went to thrift stores almost every weekend and loaded up on so much useless junk?”
Andrew thought for a moment and then gasped. “Is that where she got that horrible trench coat?”
“The neon purple one with roses?”
“Yeah, that one.” He laughed as he fake gagged. “No offense, Amelia, wherever you are, but I burned that when you died, and I loved watching it go up in flames.”
“Did you really burn it?” Lillian squealed.
Andrew nodded, and they both chuckled. “Hey, you look tired.”
“So do you,” she replied. “Do you feel okay?”
“Kind of in pain, to be honest. The meds aren’t helping as much as I wish they would.” He pursed his lips. “It’s nothing unbearable. Just a dull throbbing.”
“I know how that feels,” she joked.
“Did you sleep okay?”
