“You never realize how much you have to watch what you say until you’re at gatherings like this. I kept worrying I’d say something inappropriate in front of one of Juliet’s relatives.” Tarka sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “That was fun, but exhausting.”
“A couple of times one of Juliet’s brothers said something that could have been innuendo, but it so wasn’t. I kept having to stop myself from laughing,” Arabella confessed. “Even though the older ones worked on the Catacombs renos, I still feel like I’m too dirty to talk to nice people.”
“Well, you are pretty dirty,” Tarka agreed.
“You’re not wrong.” She yawned, mouth wide and unashamed, like a kitten. She was so bloody adorable. Grant had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her so she could lean on him. Wanting to hold her and not being able to was a terrible feeling. “After a day filled with pretending to be innocent, I just want to go on a kink vacation somewhere. Is that even a thing?”
Tak yawned too. “There are resorts, I’ve heard, but I’ve never looked into it. Clubs are enough for me.”
A kink resort? Now, that would be fun. He hadn’t even realized there was such a thing.
“Are they on
deserted islands where I can wander around naked without horrifying people?” Arabella asked, yanking at her necktie.
“You can strip down right here and now,” Tak offered. “I won’t complain. Hell, if you come across a difficult button or something I’d be only too glad to help you out.”
Grant narrowed his eyes and Arabella frowned at him minutely, silently warning him not to get pissy. He had a feeling that Tarka was yanking his chain. Honestly, what were the chances he hadn’t realized it was them having sex outside earlier?
But then, Arabella didn’t know that. She didn’t want people to know they’d been together.
Nothing had changed between them. She still wanted to just be friends.
He’d have to accept that.
* * *
* * *
The suburban quasi-mansion nestled in the midst of picturesque parkland had been off-limits to Grant for so long he’d almost forgotten how to get there. It wasn’t that he’d ever been uninvited, he’d just decided one day that being in Arabella’s house inspired far too much intimacy and familiarity—especially since he’d helped her choose it, along with everything in it.
Almost every salesperson involved had mistaken them for a couple.
The house had almost felt like his own for the longest time, considering the fact that he’d moved her in, helped set up her furniture, and had even decided what cupboard her water glasses should be stored in. Seeing the place after having been away for so long was an almost painful blow. He grieved what they’d lost almost as much as he grieved what they could have had if she’d just let it happen.
Actually, he regretted the loss of her friendship more than anything in his life—even more than he regretted estrangement from his father and sister. His stepmother he didn’t miss at all, although the cliché of that embarrassed him.
Grant hadn’t talked to Arabella since the wedding almost two weeks before, except for a few meaningless texts and some meme shares.
Burn.
She so wasn’t interested in him.
Maybe he should have called first. Although she’d made it clear that he was welcome at her place anytime, he had a moment of panic. What if she was . . . entertaining?
If she came to the door with a man trailing behind her, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pretend he didn’t care.
Although it felt like a strange formality between them, he rang the doorbell. He never rang her doorbell any more than she knocked at his place before sauntering in.
Funny how old habits died hard. He was angry at her and hated her some days, but then something important would happen or he’d get upset, and the first thing he would think was that he needed to talk to her. He didn’t want her to be one of the most important people in his life anymore, but somehow she was still his person when shit went down.
The door swung open and there she was, purple and blue hair tousled from sleep, her brown eyes wide and curious. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, which was more than she’d been wearing when she’d last come to his office, but somehow seeing her in her sleep clothes felt more intimate. By the pore cleaning strip stuck to the bridge of her nose, he could tell she didn’t have a visitor, after all. She blinked up at him with her sleepy eyes and he felt his cock twitch in response.
Ridiculous.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, doorknob?” she asked sardonically. “If you’ve come to apologize for the surprise anal the other night, you could have waited until morning instead of waking me up and being an even bigger jerk.” She glared up at him balefully and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“You’re always so grumpy when you wake up.”