Better Than Chance (25 page)

“Well, who do we have here? Introduce me, darling. Your manners are deplorable!” she teased.

“Greta, my love. This is Jay.”

Peter wrapped his arm around my shoulders like a protective lover. It was uncharacteristic of him to show public displays of affection for any stretch at a time, but he didn’t drop his arm. Instead he pulled me closer and kissed my ear. I was surprised for sure, but Greta looked positively bowled over. She recovered quickly however.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jay.” She turned to Peter and said in a loud voice, “Where did you find him? He’s positively adorable! Let me get my best table ready for you boys.”

“You say that about all your tables, Greta.”

“True. True.” She winked at Peter and made a motion for us to follow her to a table for two near the front with big open windows that looked out on the busy tourist street and the boardwalk beyond. This was a gay-friendly seaside town, so the people-watching was particularly spectacular. My eyes were trained on a pair of handsome muscle-bound men holding hands when I heard Greta utter the phrase that effectively altered the course of the whole weekend.

“Tell me when you and your boyfriend are ready, darling. I’ll serve you myself.”

I turned to smile at her and was immediately aware of a subtle shift in Peter’s demeanor. I clued in quickly. “Boyfriend.” It was a word we had never used, and it had never come up in any conversation we’d had other than to talk about our pasts. Although when Peter discussed it, he simply had always stated that he was not “boyfriend material.” I could almost see the physical wall begin to fall into place, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

Peter smiled at Greta and took a long sip of water before addressing her, “We’re just friends.”

My stomach dropped. I had a sudden fear that I would be sick. I felt a flush of heat creep over my body like a spider slowly creeping its way up my arm, over my chest, and finally burning my cheeks. I was grateful for the dim lighting. I was counting on it to hide my embarrassment at being publicly put in my place, so to speak.

What was I thinking? Being friends was what we agreed to. Why couldn’t I just keep my end of the bargain and be happy with what was the best sex of my life with a stunningly handsome, successful, fun guy? Was I just greedy?

Greta left us with menus and a promise to return pronto. An eerie silence settled between us. When I couldn’t take it a moment longer, I did what I always did when the quiet threatened to strangle me… I talked. Incessantly. Peter was used to my moments of nervous chatter by now and would usually calmly place his hand over mine, wordlessly telling me not to worry. Not this time. I talked until I was sick of my own voice and could really think of nothing more to say that didn’t sound completely moronic. I paused to take a drink of water and silence reigned again. When neither of us attempted to fill the void, Peter looked up at me and offered an apologetic smile. I accepted it and even offered him a lopsided grin in return, but something was lost.

W
E
HEADED
back for DC early the next morning. Peter claimed he had work he couldn’t ignore even though it was a Sunday. I claimed to understand. I figured I was being asked indirectly to give him space. Of course I was shit at reading him, so he could have truly meant he had work to catch up on, I thought sarcastically. I wanted to be hurt by his standoffish behavior, but he was subtle. Other than the uncomfortable dinner at Greta’s, he was normal. We made love in the morning before we left, but really it was just sex. A physical release that spoke more about resetting expectations. We were fuck buddies. Nothing more.

Peter made an effort to keep up with my rambling conversation and inane observations all the way back to the city. When he dropped me off at my house, he walked me to my door, kissed me sweetly on the lips, and promised to call me.

“I’m flying to Dallas first thing in the morning.” He stood outside my door with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were hidden by his aviator sunglasses, but I knew his gaze was fixed toward something in the distance. He seemed distracted and anxious to be gone.

“Okay. Um… well, travel safe and call me when you can.”

I tried to go for casual and undemanding. When he turned to face me, his smile was brilliant so I assumed I struck the right chord. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one for me. I was crushed, and suddenly very aware that I couldn’t fucking do this anymore. I couldn’t pretend I was fine with this casual bullshit. It wasn’t even a matter of wanting more now. It was a matter of needing it.

10

I
N
THE
weeks that followed Peter worked incessantly. He traveled nonstop and called me intermittently to check in. He sounded exhausted and preoccupied, which made any real conversation difficult. I found myself doing a comedy routine instead to make him laugh. I told him silly overembellished stories about office antics to entertain him. It was effective on one hand, but I would hang up feeling empty and terribly lonely. Something had to change, and it was apparent it had to be me.

I didn’t know how to cope other than to try to act normal. I failed miserably, and my friends knew immediately that things were upside down. They tried to cheer me up with movie nights and dinners in an effort to keep me from spending too much time alone. They were sweet diversions, but I had to figure this out myself.

Two weeks after our trip to Rehoboth I was offered a position at a small, boutique lobbying firm in the city. I accepted it immediately and gave my notice. Rebecca cried when I told her I would be moving on, and even Mel got a little teary-eyed. I made arrangements to leave Jackson and Burnell as soon as my current project wrapped up, which meant I had one week left on the job. Peter, of course, was out of town. He hadn’t been to the office since our beach trip at all. I had started and stopped myself from telling him about leaving the firm a couple of times. I wasn’t sure why.

He called me the evening of my going-away party. He was in Los Angeles on business and didn’t have much to say other than to give me his itinerary. The conversation was distant and awkward. I didn’t have it in me to infuse gaiety and life into our usual banter. It all seemed too hard. I had tears in my eyes when I hung up. It was over. I needed to make it through this party, then cut all ties to this office. Including Peter. There was no sense pretending and frankly, it was too fucking painful. I wasn’t a good game-player. I didn’t understand his rules, nor could I read him. I had tried and I had failed. All I felt now was desperately unhappy.

My coworkers all assumed my melancholy had to do with my departure. They bought round after round of drinks and toasted me with wishes of great success at my new job and in life in general. No one seemed to notice I wasn’t drinking much. They partied on around me while I nursed one drink all evening with a plastic smile painted on my face. Something was certainly wrong when Jay Reynolds didn’t enjoy his own party. All I wanted was to go home, fall into bed, and wake up with a new start and a clear focus.

A
ARON
MET
me at my house later that night. He was opening my front door just as I pulled my car up. I sat for a minute, gathering the strength to deal with his questions, his anger. I knew he hated seeing me in the depressed state I’d wallowed in over the past few weeks. I tried to shake that heavy feeling for his sake. It wasn’t fair for him to have to deal with my moods. In the end, I didn’t have to deal with anything. He took one look at me and wrapped me in his arms. I gave in and cried on his shoulder until I literally had nothing left in me. I fell asleep in Aaron’s lap with him running his fingers soothingly through my hair, whispering sweet platitudes over and over.

“Don’t worry, Jaybird. Everything will be just fine, honey. I’m here.”

He stayed with me that night. I wished more than ever that we could be right for each other. I loved Aaron with all my heart, but he wasn’t the man for me. I thanked him and kissed the top of his head as he left for his own apartment in the morning to get ready for work.

I
CURLED
up on my sofa later the following day with a book and a big glass of wine. I had kept myself busy on my first day of freedom with trips to the gym and the grocery store and phone calls to my family. I planned to visit them the next weekend. The need to surround myself with people and places that were comforting and familiar was almost physical. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have hopped in my car right then.

A loud knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts and nearly had me spilling my glass of chardonnay on my sofa. I figured it had to be Aaron or Katie checking on their poor sad-sack friend, so I pasted a smile on my face and stupidly opened the door without looking to see who was standing on the other side.

It was Peter.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Huh?”

He looked keyed up and more than a little pissed. He’d obviously come straight from work. However, he didn’t look as cool and composed as he usually did.

“I went to the office today and was told that I’d missed a great going-away party for Jay Reynolds. I was sure there had to be a mistake. But no… everyone assured me it was Jay. You know, the tall, dreamy guy who’s always making the receptionists laugh. The one who knows everyone’s name, who they’re married to, dating, or interested in.” He paused, resting his hand above his head in the doorway. It was a gesture that should have come across as nonchalant, but instead made him look tense. “I still didn’t believe it until I checked your office. It was empty.”

Peter rubbed his neck absently in a sure sign of agitation. I realized I hadn’t seen him do that in some time.

“Can I come in?”

“Sorry. Yes. Um… can I get you something to drink? Water? I was just having a glass of wine, and I—”

“Jay, stop.” His tone was sharp with frustration.

I nodded slowly. He followed me to the living room where I curled back into the corner of my sofa. He sat across from me in a parlor chair that looked much too small for his large body. I wanted to break the thick tension and say something funny about him looking like Alice in Wonderland, but I refrained. We stared at each other for a long moment.

“I got a new job.”

“I figured. I didn’t know you were looking.” He looked hurt.

“I meant to tell you but….” I let the words fade, not sure if I were brave enough to continue.

“But what? You forgot? It slipped your mind?” He let out a humorless chuckle and combed his fingers through his hair before he gave me that intense look of scrutiny he was so damn good at. “Tell me what’s going on, Jay. I need to know.”

I became unnerved as a charged stillness settled between us. I picked up the pillow next to me and hugged it to my chest protectively.

“I can’t do this anymore, Peter.”

Silence.

“Do what exactly?” He licked his top lip in an uncharacteristically nervous manner.

“This. I… I have a feeling…. No. Actually, I know that we don’t want the same things, and I can’t pretend to be happy anymore about our… arrangement.”

It hurt to breathe, but at least I got the words out. Now he knew where I was coming from. Except, when I looked over at him, it was apparent that he had no clue what the fuck I was saying. He asked exactly that question.

“Peter… fine. Fuck, okay!” I stood up with a sudden burst of anxious energy, threw the pillow aside, and began to pace around my small living area. “I can’t do this casual fuck buddy thing anymore. I can’t be your friend with benefits. It’s not… me. I want….”

“What?” Peter stood and gently took my hand in his. It was such a sweet gesture that I found myself wanting to cry. “What do you want?”

“I want everything, Peter.” I willed him to understand so I wouldn’t be forced to bare my soul, but he looked clueless. “I made a mistake when I said I could be casual. I can’t. I don’t know how to not….”

“Not what? You’re freaking me out. What are you trying to say?”

“I love you.”

Fuck. No, please God, don’t let me have just said that out loud
. A glance at the shocked man in front of me told me my prayer had gone unanswered.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your problem. It’s mine. I understand that you don’t feel the same things for me that… actually, that’s not true… I think you
do
feel the same way about me, only I think you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t have a normal relationship or that you don’t want it. Unfortunately, Peter, I do. I want it all. I’m a greedy bastard at the end of the day. I want the man I’m with to want me the same way I want him. I want our lives to complement each other. And I sure as hell don’t want to be a casual, secret fuck buddy. I think we’re more than that, but….”

“We are. You know we are.” He looked away from me and massaged his neck again absently.

“What am I, then?”

He looked back at me carefully as though weighing his words.