I tell Sandy to relax in the den while we deal with the clearing up. It’s the least we can do after the best meal we’ve had in a very long time. When Sandy’s out of the room, I grab Arden and Able by the arms and gently shove them toward the door. “Get in there. We’ve only got tonight. You guys need to make your move.”
“Both at the same time?” Able whispers. “Is Sandy into that?”
“I don’t know…just work it out.”
Able looks worried, but Arden’s got the confidence of a hundred men. “No problem, T.”
He rubs his shaggy light brown beard, his crooked grin out in full force. “And don’t worry about Able. He’s never had a problem sharing in the past.”
“Sharing bar coochie is one thing. Working on a good girl like Sandy is something else.”
“Well, her car is ready. You need to show her what you’ve got. The icing on the cake, yeah!” I say.
“Okay, okay.” Able shrugs as he makes his way to the den. Arden follows him with way more swagger. Do I think they can do it? I reckon Arden will make it happen. Fingers crossed.
“After this, we need to make ourselves scarce,” I say to Andrew, Damien, and Greg. They share glances but nod. I get that they must be wanting Sandy for themselves. It’s how I feel too. My cock has been throbbing like a fucking alarm for days. My heart misses her kisses and the feeling of her arms around me. But the sacrifice will be worth it in the long run. I just hope these boys can see it.
It doesn’t take long to put the kitchen to rights, and then we head out to the local bar for a few drinks and to watch some sports. Connor’s Bar is a place that I’ve always felt at home, but tonight I’m restless. I tell Greg to shoot some pool with me to try and keep distracted, but panic’s hand is clutched tight around my guts.
Will all of this be enough for Sandy to look past what happened before? Can she love me, even though I’m not the same as I was? Can she forgive me for leaving her and never going back?
Can a broken person get close to another without cutting them open too?
I just don’t know, but I hope with all my heart that they can.
24
ARDEN
I’m sitting on one side of Sandy, and Able is on the other, and we’re watching a ridiculous show that Sandy chose, where women try on wedding dresses, and their moms are bitches. This is not what I call entertainment, but whatever makes her happy.
The thing is, I don’t think Sandy’s really watching the show. I keep catching her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, and she’s fiddling with the hem of her gorgeous white dress so much that I can’t take my eyes off her thighs. She shifts in her seat every so often, like she’s thinking about sex. I know I am. My cock is stirring, and I have to keep running through the process of draining oil from an engine to take my mind out of the gutter. No woman wants to sit next to a man with a tent in his shorts they haven’t consciously put there.
Able is restless too, but probably because he feels awkward. We might look alike, but we always have been chalk and cheese.
I’m not a teenager anymore. The prospect of sitting here, sliding my arm tentatively around Sandy’s shoulders and waiting to see if she’s going to lean into me or push me away does not appeal. We’re all adults. This doesn’t have to be about playing games.
It could just be about three people having a whole truckload of fun.
Or a truckload of fucks. The latter sounds better to me.
I snort at my inner dialogue, and Sandy glances at me again. There was nothing funny on the show. In fact, the bride-to-be is currently in tears.
“That momma doesn’t deserve kids,” Able says, practically growling with anger. He always gets fierce when we watch shit that has abusive parents in it.
“Some parents don’t,” Sandy says.
“Do you have good parents?” Able asks.
“My parents always prioritized other things above my sister and me,” she says. “It’s not that they’re bad people as such. They didn’t beat us or make us feel bad about ourselves. They would just leave us with babysitters and go away for weekends. Then, when I was thirteen, they decided to move away. They left me and my sister the house, and she’s nine years older than me, so she could take care of what needed to be done, but I wasn’t done needing them. My dad got a good job overseas, and that was it.”
“Shit, Sandy. That sounds rough,” Able says softly.