Page 42 of Wasted On Us

Mateo smiles in recognition. “My father keeps his polished in trophy form on the mantle.”

“How can two men so similar hate each other so much? All that crap about college rivalry is just that… crap.” So what if he got better grades, or girls liked him more? So what if he accidentally sold him a crappy car? I can’t imagine that holding onto this much hatred for so long is doing my father or Mateo’s any good.

“That kind of anger is only born of pain,” Mateo offers, his face set in a scowl. “C’mon. Let’s not let their problems follow us all the way out here. This is our safe place, remember? We came here to get away from our fathers. Not try to rationalize their actions. I’d like to make the most of our last afternoon.”

As much as I’d like to solve this before we go back into the lion’s jaws on Monday, I have to agree. I don’t want to taint the memory of this weekend with such unpleasant thoughts. Instead, we spend the rest of the day sitting quietly by the lake, enjoying conversation about anything and everything that isn’t our families. It’s sunset before we know it, and in lieu of having some drawn-out dinner surrounded by strangers, we pick up sandwiches from a small shop and bring them back to the cabin with a bottle of wine.

Drinking cheap white wine from red plastic cups and eating oily subs straight from the wrapping paper serves to underscore my thoughts from earlier—it’s romantic in ways that I never felt with Rick. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I take a bath, one final dip in that exquisite clawfoot tub, and then towel off, taking a seat on the side of the bed in just my robe. As I start to moisturize my skin, there is a dip in the mattress as Mateo sits down next to me. He kisses me on the shoulder, then my neck, and I lean into the sensation without thinking. Then, all at once, I stiffen.

“What are you doing?”

“Damn,” he laughs. “I really must be out of moves.”

“Okay, no.” I try again to explain myself. “What arewedoing?”

“We’re having fun,” he offers, the inflection at the end of his sentence halfway rising into a question. “Relishing life. Enjoying each other.”

“For a minute it felt too…” I let the words hang in the air as I try to figure out exactly what it was about his touch that bothered me. Then, it hits me. “Comfortable. Like an old married couple.”

“We’d make a great old married couple.” Mateo brings his hand back up to my shoulder, and I shy away from the touch.

“Except we can’t get married or be a couple.”

“Mark my words.” He grips my shoulders more firmly, turning me to face him. I’ve never seen him look so sincere. “We’re growing old together.”

I feel my lip tremble as if I’m about to cry. I don’t want to mar the weekend with some weird emotional breakdown, so I take all of that fear and concern and let it guide the way I kiss him instead. All of our kisses so far have been frantic, full of lust and tongues. This one is deeper, as if I’m trying to say how far I’ve already fallen without using words.

Mateo brings his hand to the back of my head, cradling it as he gently pushes me backward and lowers me onto the bed. I slip my hands between us, undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing it away from his chest, running my fingers along the stiff muscles there. We’ve never been this soft with each other. I can feel the fear coming from him, too. Despite his confident assertion to the contrary, this could be one of a hundred times we do this, or it could be the last time we ever manage to see each other again. And we both want to remember every detail.

He slides my robe off of my shoulders, undoing the sash and pushing the fabric away from me, exposing my skin to his touches. I can feel his erection through his jeans, and I delight in the way he bites his lip when I push against it with my thigh. He’s so pliable and earnest while I help him undress that it hurts my chest, the weight of his vulnerability crushing me. I feel responsible for him all of a sudden. Like his heart is in my hands. The man who makes love to me here, in this cabin far away from everyone we know, is different than the guy who fixed my car. Gone is that playboy who runs away before the sun comes up.

Mateo’s all here. And he’s all in.

When he enters me, he closes his eyes, as if the tender emotion of the moment has just become too much. So I kiss him as warmly as I can manage, wrapping my legs around his hips and holding him close to me. His strokes are languid and full of care, and he reaches between our bodies to strum my clit until I shatter, crying out his name in pleasure, but with a tiny sliver of pain woven in too. When he comes, he whispers my name against my skin. Lying here with him, I can feel his heartbeat against mine, and I wish that we could stay like this forever. It could be Sunday, again and again, and Monday morning would never have to come at all.

Chapter Eighteen

Mateo

I don’t have a frame of reference for this sort of thing. I’m not sure if it’s always this easy and painless to go on vacation with a partner, but I get the feeling that Eden and I are an outlier. Never once did we bicker about dinner reservations, about the route we took to get here, or checking in and checking out. It all just feels so smooth. So natural. As if we’ve already been doing this for years and will continue to do so for decades more.

It’s equal parts exciting and familiar.

A mix of comfort and thrill, like retracing a beloved path with new, unexpected turns, as familiar as an old song, yet also pulsing with an electric drumbeat.

And it leaves me teetering on the edge of a precipice, my heart soaring with anticipation and steadied by the touch of home in her arms.

Taking one final look at the cabin, making sure that Eden grabbed her shampoo, and I didn’t leave my phone charger plugged into the nightstand, I’m struck by an overwhelming sadness. I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to go back to a place where we can’t be together. But more than that, I’m terrified. I don’t know how to do any of this. I’ve never had a meaningful relationship with anyone. Until now. Caught between the fear of screwing this up and the desire to be the person that Eden desperately deserves, I find myself way quieter than usual, letting her do all of the talking at checkout.

With ‘Thank you, Captain Obvious’ ringing in my ears, I carry the bags out the door.

I’m still quiet when we get in the car, mulling things over from all possible angles as we make our way out of Sunset Bluffs and onto the interstate. It’s only while we’re passing the second exit that a way forward occurs to me, and I find it within myself to say something.

“I think I have an idea,” I blurt, turning down the radio. “I think if we just had more time—I think if we go very, very slowly, we can ease our parents into things.”

Eden cocks an eyebrow at me over her sunglasses. “What do you have in mind?”

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