I nod. “That’s basically it.”
“Is she ugly? She’s gotta be ugly.”
My jaw clenches. “No, she’s hot. She’s beautiful.”
“Is she a ghetto rat?”
“No, dickhead.”
“She better not be involved with a psycho. You don’t want to get messed up in that shit, man.”
“She’s not dating anyone. She’s just a nice, normal girl that life kept kicking.”
“Is she at least letting you hit it?”
“I know this might be a hard concept for you, but I actually don’t think with my dick 24/7.”
He looks at me like I have ten heads.
“Did you have a wedding? You didn’t even invite me? Shouldn’t I have been your best man?”
“There wasn’t a wedding. Just a private ceremony.”
“This is so fucked up, dude.”
I shrug. “I wanted to do something nice for someone. It feels good.”
My seriousness sobers him up a little. “So how does that even work? Does she have her own room?”
“Hell yeah, she does. She’s in Erin’s old room.”
“How long is this supposed to last? Forever?”
“Nah, maybe a year. Then we’ll get a divorce and she’ll move out. That’s all. It’s just a temporary thing.”
His eyes blink rapidly with confusion. “I never would’ve expected this from you, man. My mind is blown.” He makes an explosion sound.
“Yeah, mine too.”
“Is that why you didn’t hook up with that redheaded hottie? You feelin’ some kind of misplaced marital guilt or some shit?”
Yes.
It doesn’t make any sense. We’re not really married. We’re not even dating. I’m free to stick my dick in anything I want.
And yet, I don’t want to.
I pause before I deny it. “I dunno. Maybe,” I reply. “That chick was just into my tattoos.”
“So? Who gives a fuck?”
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text message from Skylar. It’s a picture of Cassie and Gus all snuggled up together on the couch.
Skylar: OMG look how cute they are. They love each other!
Smiling, I type back a quick reply.
Me: Very cute. How’s the men in kilts?
Skylar: Sexy. How’s pool? Did you get all the balls in the right holes? ;-)
Me: LOL. I always do :-)~
“Who’s that?” Kyle asks, nodding toward my phone.
“It’s her.”
“The wife?”
Wife. It sounds so fuckin’ strange.
“Yup.”
His eyes narrow as I shove the phone back in my pocket. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Of course I like her.”
“No, I mean you’re into her. I can tell. You never smile like that.”
Shit. Is it really that obvious?
“I always fuckin’ smile,” I say defensively. “And she’s just a friend.”
“Can I meet her?”
“I don’t think she’s ready for you,” I say. “Maybe someday.”
Something brushes against my shoulder and I look up to see Jolie passing our table on her way to the restrooms. Kyle bends down and picks a small piece of a white napkin off the floor. He studies it then tosses it across the table at me. “It’s her phone number.”
“Her who?”
“The redhead. I think she tried to drop it on the table but her drunk ass missed.”
I snort and throw it back at him. “You keep it. I’m not interested.”
He folds it up and stuffs it in his wallet. “I’m going to. I’ll get some fuckin’ fake tattoos. She’ll be all over me like flies on shit.”
Yawning, I stretch my arms and crack my neck. “I should go. My back’s killin’ me.”
“Go?” he repeats, leaning his arms on the table. “It’s still early. Let’s have a few shots and get some girls over here and have a belated bachelor party.”
Standing, I pull on my leather jacket and straighten the collar. “Two drinks is my limit now. You gonna be okay to get home? I can give you a lift.”
“I’m not that drunk. I’ll be fine.”
He’s less wasted than he usually is. The crowd has thinned out and the college party seems to have moved on to a more exciting venue. I’m sure once I leave Kyle will get bored and go home.
I squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll see ya Monday morning. Don’t be hungover.”
“This is your idea of late?” Skylar says, glancing at the clock on the living room wall when I get home. “It’s barely midnight.”
“I think riding in the heat all day made me tired.”
Her eyes fixate on me. “What’s on your face?”
“Where?”
“On your cheek.”
I reach up and brush off the side of my face.
“The other side,” she says, narrowing her eyes like an eagle. “Is that lipstick?”
Cringing, I wipe my hand across the other side of my face. “Yeah, some chick kissed me.”
She squints at me curiously. “A girl just walked up to you and put her lips on you?”
“Basically, yeah.”
She scratches her head. “Does that happen often?”
I flash her a smirk. “Not often enough.”
“It’s a tacky shade. No wonder you came home,” she teases. “You want to watch some TV with me?”
“Are you still watching Highlander?”
“Outlander. It’s soo tragically romantic and good. They’re kind of in an arranged marriage, too.”