Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(70)

“I think that we both only complicate things further for each other.”

Her brows lifted in surprise at my words, but then she cast her gaze downward, accepting the truth of them all the same.

She stayed silent, so I continued. “We both have a lot to figure out. And while I don’t plan to actively avoid you, especially since I was serious when I told Shane I wanted to see what that CrossFit bullshit is all about, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to try to have any kind of meaningful friendship right now. We’re people with a history that we can’t ignore, but I don’t think that necessarily means we can have a common future. We’re just not heading in the same direction.”

Lily looked at me thoughtfully. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“The whole new I’m-selfless-and-I-want-to-do-what’s-best-for-everyone-else thing. It’s kind of endearing,” she teased.

I blushed at her words, but tried to cover it with a laugh. “Let’s not get crazy. I’m pretty sure I’m still an *.”

Then she grew serious, closing the distance between us as she placed her hand on my cheek. “But an endearing * all the same.” She leaned into me, raised up on her tiptoes, and placed a soft kiss on my cheek where her hand had just been. “See ya around, Max.”

And with that, she walked around me, opened the door, and disappeared behind it.

I stood there, looking at the door that had just led her away from me. After who knows how long, I reached beside me on the wall and flicked off the foyer light. “Goodbye, doll,” I whispered before heading upstairs and going to sleep.





Chapter 27: Lily


There is a reason February is shorter than the other months: it sucks. It’s cold and dark, and there are not nearly enough days off from work to compensate for February’s negative qualities. Other than the potential for a snow day—which we were blessed with on February 7th, resulting in an unexpected three-day weekend—and Presidents Day, February is all but void of anything to look forward to. Especially when you throw in the Hallmark money-grab known as Valentine’s Day.

For so many years, Valentine’s Day had just been another holiday I didn’t celebrate. It ranked right up there with Boxing Day and Day of the Dead as holidays I couldn’t give a shit less about. So it was strange to think that for the first time in probably six years, I would actually get to have someone wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. Well, someone legal, that is. I’m obviously not counting the handful of adolescent boys who ask me to marry them each year.

This year was something different. This year I’d get to spend Valentine’s weekend with my boyfriend. I said the word aloud softly without even realizing it.

“What’d you say?” Adam reached across the center console to squeeze my thigh. Since he had apologized for not being a hundred percent honest, Adam had made a conscious effort to be especially loving and attentive. During the last few weeks, I’d felt closer than ever to him.

“I just said ‘my boyfriend.’” I leaned over to snuggle into him as he put his arm around me. I inhaled the smell of his fresh body wash and spicy aftershave: an intoxicating combination. I wanted to lick it off him. “I just like the sound of it, that’s all. My boyfriend,” I said again, enjoying the feeling of it on my tongue as it rolled off it.

“I like the sound of it too,” he said. “And I like the thought of having you all to myself for an entire day and night. I can’t wait to show you the beach house. You’re gonna love it.”

“When do I get my gift?” I asked with an excitement equivalent of a child waiting at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s better to give than to receive?” he asked playfully.

A warmth radiated inside me as the double meaning of his words sunk in. “Mmm . . . I guess not. I am very giving, but there’s something about being on the receiving end that just can’t be trumped.” I squirmed in my seat as I felt the wetness seep into my underwear. I couldn’t wait to jump out of this car and onto Adam. It’d been over a week since we’d slept together, and I was definitely feeling the side effects of our lack of sexual encounters.

Though I understood the reason for the week-long dry spell. With Eva around most weeknights, it was difficult for Adam to get out of the house, even for an hour or so. We’d seen each other on my lunch break a few times, but with my days of an afternoon quickie long over, we’d used my lunch break to do just that: eat lunch. And though any time spent with Adam was enjoyable, I desperately needed the release that could only be triggered by hot, passionate sex. Abstinence was still abstinence, no matter how unintentional, and that only made me that much more thankful that Adam’s parents had agreed to stay with Eva so we could have the weekend together.

“You seem fidgety,” Adam said after I shifted in my seat again.

“Just trying to get comfortable.” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be in a position that caused my jeans to rub against my clit at just the right angle to keep me turned on, or sit in a way that had the opposite effect and hope that my arousal would die down enough that I could concentrate on something else. Anything else. Ultimately, I opted for the former. I was a glutton for punishment.