Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
When Nick takes me back home, he appears ready to follow me into the house, but I stop him on the porch. “Thank you for dinner,” I say, my hands straight at my sides.
“I had a good time,” he says, sounding hopeful.
“Me too.” In truth, I was too much in my head to really say it was a good time, but it was pleasant. Better than I imagined.
He steps closer, and his voice is low as he reaches out to stroke my arm. “I guess I’ll see you next week.” He dips his head, going in for a kiss, but I step back, making him frown.
“Lorraine, we were married for twelve years. I can’t even kiss you goodnight?”
Reflexively, I wrap an arm around myself.
“I’ll bet you let the gardener kiss you.”
My eyes narrow at his accusation, and he’s instantly contrite.
“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping back. “That was out of line. And I understand. We had a good evening, and I got caught up in it.”
“Yeah, I’m not ready for that.”
“I get it. That’s okay. Goodnight, Rai. Sleep well.” His voice is soft, and his eyes are tender as he gives me a lingering look before turning to go.
It’s a lot to process, and I decide that I don’t want to think more about it tonight. I’ll sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning. And I don’t expect to have any kind of solid decision then either. This is definitely going to be a take-it-day-by-day situation.
Back inside the house, I’m pouring a glass of wine for myself when the doorbell rings. My first thought is that Nick forgot something or has something more to say, but then my phone chimes with a text from Leo.
“It’s us. Are you home? We just want to talk.”
39
Lorraine
I wish they had called first instead of just showing up, because I don’t want to talk to them, especially not right now, but I also don’t want to turn them away.
I open the door and am unprepared for the feeling that rises in my chest at the sight of the four of them.
“Hi,” Leo says, sounding tentative and unlike himself. “Can we come in?”
All eyes are on me, Leo’s warm but uncertain, Dante focused, like a man with a goal, and Darian and Troy’s dark eyes full of care and concern.
I nod, but as soon as they start to file in, I regret it. “It’s a warm night. Let’s sit outside,” I say, leading them through to the back patio, the site of our early meetings when they were first working on the yard. Something doesn’t feel right about having them in the house, not after what the five of us did the other night, and not directly after my night out with Nick. It’s all too confusing.
On our way past the kitchen counter, I tense at the sight of the flowers Nick brought, but none of the men say anything about them.
They take seats around the patio table, still focused on me in a way that makes my skin heat.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No thanks,” Leo says, and the others also refuse.
I sit, for lack of anything better to do, twisting my hands in my lap as I wait for them to start.
“Are you okay?” Darian asks. “Any problems with your ex?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
He nods. “That’s good.”
“We already miss you, Lorraine,” Leo says, suddenly sounding impatient and getting right to the point. “The fantasies were always meant as a way to get to know you better, not as some quick fun.”
“And we have gotten to know you better, and we know we want to keep spending time with you,” Dante says.
“We’re good together,” Troy adds, his eyes so piercing that I have to glance down at my hands.
“I thought it was just sex,” I say, still looking down.
“It was great sex,” Leo says, “and we’d like it to be a lot more. Not just sex. Dates, conversations, companionship. A relationship.”
I look up, my eyes wide. “Between the five of us?”
He frowns and nods, as if what he’s suggesting is the most natural thing in the world, and he can’t imagine why I’m questioning it.
A small part of me is pleased to hear that they were feeling what I was feeling when I was with them. It wasn’t my imagination. But the larger part of me knows that this can’t work.
“The thing is,” I say, forcing myself to look around at them, “we’re at completely different stages in our lives. I’m settled. I’ve been settled for a long time, and you’re young, with so many possibilities —”
Leo interrupts me. “Lorraine, you act as though we’re from different generations. We’re not that much younger than you, and we don’t necessarily want different things from you. We’re here to talk about what we want, and what you want, and maybe those things align better than you think.”