99 Percent Mine(75)

“But if you needed them, they’d give you anything you needed. That’s not a bad thing,” he says, softer. “It’s what helps me sleep at night. You will always be taken care of.”

It’s true. Below me are multiple safety nets. If I lost everything here, I’d just go stay in one of the many empty bedrooms at my parents’ place. Mom would probably bring me breakfast in bed and open the French doors so I could see the ocean.

“And you’re about to inherit. Your financial situation is looking good. Meanwhile, I need cash.” A ghost of a smile is on his mouth. “You think I break myself on a worksite for fifty weeks a year like this just for fun?” He blows out a long breath. “I don’t think I can handle it if my business fails before it begins.”

I wince in sympathy. There’s no way I’d want him to live with the dreadful mix of failure and embarrassment I feel every time I look at the empty screw holes by my front door. Then I think about how the last three times I’ve been impulsive, it hasn’t worked out. Tearing up the development offer, trying to buy Jamie’s ring.

The get in me incident, barely a minute after learning Tom was single.

“Okay. Okay. I’m willing to wait and get a strategy together. You know I’ll do anything to help you. Stupid Jamie.” I look in the neck of the robe at my piercing. Tom’s brought it alive. The chafe of my silk robe against my skin is unbearable. “He literally never takes time off work.”

“He’s here, and here’s your chance to be his best friend again.”

“That’s you,” I point out, and Tom shakes his head.

“How do you always have it wrong? It’s you. You’re his best friend and he’s been miserable without you. If you guys don’t realize it now and get over this little meaningless fight you had, it might be too late for you both. Don’t throw that away over me. You’re twins. I’m the stray from across the street.”

“You’re not!” I can now see the full breadth of what he’s trying to accomplish here. The renovation of the twins’ relationship. “This is so you. Sacrificing and fixing and stepping aside. Fading into the background. Not on my fucking watch.”

“Where are you guys?” Jamie is at the back door. “Tom, what the hell is wrong with the kitchen ceiling?”

“The kitchen?” Tom is dismayed. “I’ll be right there. Please, Darce,” he finishes in a hush. “Please help me keep it together.”

“Give me your phone, then,” I say, and he slides it into my robe’s fun-sized pocket. “Where the hell is that guy Chris? He was supposed to be here by now. Should I call him and kick his ass?”

“I would be very grateful,” Tom says, stepping a few paces away as the back door bangs open. It triggers off a sense of déjà vu. I think we’ve always stood a little too close.

“Quit wasting his time,” Jamie barks at me as he clatters down the back stairs. “We’ve got stuff to do. I hope you’re fixing these stairs, Tom.”

We watch Jamie walk around to the Porta-Potties. He opens the door to the male one. “Oh fuck no.” He goes into mine.

“That’s my bathroom. Now I want to cry harder than ever.” I exhale and put my hand over my eyes.

I will myself to trust Tom and see this from his perspective. I see everything he has to lose more clearly than my own potential losses. He’ll always carry me. He’ll never trip or drop me.

But I just can’t help myself. I’ve felt this way before, so many times. My insecure, spiky self says: “So, last night was a one-off.”

“Of course not. But as long as he’s here, I can’t touch you. You can’t look at me. We’re not … anything.”

“Wow, so we’re nothing,” I marvel in a stage whisper as the hurt begins to shimmer. “Funny, it didn’t feel like nothing. I feel like I had every glorious inch of Tom Valeska last night. Repeatedly. Just … over and over, making me come more than I ever have in my life.”

My words cause a chain reaction; my body shifts, his shifts, and we look at the bed. It’s a messed-up wreck. We want to be flat in it or bent over it. Any possible variation, we want to be moving, and deep.

I would have sex with him on a pencil sketch of this bed.

I stand up on tiptoe, grab him by the scruff, and bring his mouth down to mine. It’s instant. He’s giving me everything in a blink, an intensity so strong I lose the ability to see color. I feel a surface under my butt; I’m on the edge of my workbench and he’s between my legs. Ten seconds. I swear it would take another ten seconds for him to be back inside me. I yank at his leather belt and loosen the buckle.

“In, in, in,” I order him when he changes the angle of our kiss. Against me, I feel a tremor run through him. Last night didn’t ease anything between us. It’s made it worse. So much worse.

Now he’s facing away from me, shoulders heaving.

“Shit,” he huffs. “You see what I mean? We can’t do this all over the worksite.”

“Shit, indeed.” I put my hand on my throat where my heart is lodged like a frog. “If we’re not careful I’ll be three months pregnant with your giant triplets when the sold sticker goes up.”

His shoulders shiver and roll. He turns on the ball of his foot and I’m sure he’s going to step back and finish what we just started. Hard. Everything in him is straining. My God, his eyes. For one second, I’m terrified. I’ve provoked something I don’t know if I can handle.