Not unless I knew my wife was safe.
It took days for me to recover. Maybe it was a slower process than last time because I’d already been shot in the same area before. The nerves and tissue were permanently damaged beyond repair, and now I just added more fuel to the fire.
Arwen spent time in my room and kept me company.
We screwed a lot.
She climbed on my lap and fucked me over and over.
I didn’t mind in the least.
Every night, she excused herself and went to sleep in her own room.
Good. Because I didn’t want to be an ass and kick her out.
I was finally on my feet again, the wound closed up without sign of infection. It still hurt a bit, but unless I started to move it again normally, it would take much longer to heal. I showered and got ready for the day, skipping my usual workout because my body wasn’t ready for that just yet.
When I came downstairs, Arwen was already there. She looked at her phone while she munched on the toast, eggs, and sautéed veggies. Her coffee was steaming hot. She looked up when she saw me sit across from her. “You look good.”
I could never take a compliment, not even now. I ignored what she said and poured myself a cup of coffee.
Arwen ignored my silence and sipped from her mug. “Are you going back to work today?”
“Yes.”
“Take it easy. Don’t overdo it.”
“Don’t worry about me, alright?” Just because we were fucking pretty often didn’t mean I owed her anything. As far as I was concerned, we were still two people living under the same roof—and nothing more.
“If you weren’t sneaking off into the night and getting shot, I wouldn’t have to worry.”
I grabbed a piece of toast and smeared it with butter. “I don’t need you to worry about me, so don’t bother.”
She cocked her eyebrow slightly. “If I don’t worry about you, who will?”
It was a cold thing to say, but I probably deserved to hear it. She was the one who consoled me on my darkest days, comforted me even when I refused to wear my pain on my sleeve. “Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean anything has changed.”
“I never said anything had changed.”
“But you’re acting like I owe you something.”
She shook her head slightly. “You do owe me something—your friendship. You’re the one who told me we were allies. You can stop pushing me away every time we get closer. Trust me, I’m not looking for anything more than sex from you. So you can cut the shit and chill out.”
This woman wasn’t like the others. “I just want to keep it that way.”
“As do I. But I would like for us to be friends and to stop being dicks to each other. Why can’t we have that?”
I guess I was too scared to get close to anyone. My mother was gone, my father hated me, and my sister went off the deep end. I’d lost everyone who mattered to me—and it sucked. They say it’s better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all… but that was bullshit. “I just don’t want anything more.”
“What makes you think I would ever want more from you?” Her eyebrow was still raised. “I think you’re a good guy, Maverick. I’m obviously attracted to you. But I’m not looking to make this marriage into a real relationship. You and I are so different that it would never work anyway. But I don’t see why we can’t have some sense of trust and friendship. I expect you to bring home women, and I’ll hook up with men. Sometimes we’ll hook up with each other, but that’s it. All I want from you is some kind of closeness…because I’m really lonely.”
I kept my smartass comments to myself when she revealed something so vulnerable. She’d never said that to me before, admitted she wasn’t the strong woman she projected herself to be.
She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to fall in love and get married…but now I can’t. Logic would argue that I should try to fall in love with you, but that spark just isn’t there. They say people fall in love within the first forty-eight hours of meeting someone. If it hasn’t happened now, then we clearly aren’t right for each other. But if we really are going to be husband and wife for the rest of our lives, there should be a solid foundation between us. We should be able to trust each other, especially when neither one of us has anyone else.”
It was easy to believe her because she seemed so genuine. I never got the impression that her concern for me stemmed from something romantic. Maybe she really did just care about me in a friendly sort of way. “Alright. Then we’ll be two people who have casual sex, who are honest with each other, and are friends. But I mean it when I say we’ll never be anything more. I will continue to sleep with whoever I want, and I expect you to do the same.” I liked my life the way it was. I could give her a partnership and friendship, but that was the extent of my generosity.