What did he mean when he said that? Are we dating for real now? Does it mean he has feelings for me? I want to think it does but am afraid to assume anything.
We’ve barely touched since we got out of his car, but I feel his eyes on my body, trailing across my bare skin like the whisper of his fingertips, exploring…
…claiming…
And it’s not like I haven’t returned the favor. Nathan in swimming trunks is a gift to the female population at large. Strong shoulders. Perfect pecs. Abs that trail into that goddamn V at his hips that always does me in.
It’s just the two of us. Micah and Garett are in the water, swimming, splashing, and laughing while Angela and Ivy sun themselves at the front of the boat.
“Everything okay?” Nathan’s voice is quiet. Personal. Like he already knows the answer to his question. When he handed me the check, I was ready to unload my worries about Mom and money. But now is not the time and until I know what we are to each other, I’d be a fool to share that story. Our entire relationship, whatever it is, hinges on money.
If it’s fake, he’s paying me.
If it’s real, he shouldn’t.
How do I talk about the financial pickle I’m in and not make it weird?
So, I shove it all into a box in the back of my mind and focus on the easy stuff.
“How could things not be okay when I’m surrounded by this?” I wave my hand around to encompass the boat, the view, the companionship. “Your cousins are wonderful. I’d love to call them friends. And if younger me heard I’d be on a boat like this one day? She wouldn’t believe it.”
“You fidget when you’re upset.” Nathan half-smiles and I’m touched he’s been paying that much attention. “Whatever happened on your phone wasn’t good news.”
What am I gonna tell him? I’m depending on the money you owe me for a fake relationship that might not be fake anymore? I’m contemplating a second job so I don’t have to take advantage of Glenda’s kindness again? I’m so tired of not quite making ends meet that I’m ready to scream?
It all feels like too much information given where we are. Or where we aren’t.
“That was my mom,” I say, swallowing the urge to unload it all. “She’s in an extended care facility and the admin staff bothered her about some clerical stuff after I specifically asked them to come to me instead of her. Stress isn’t conducive to her recovery, by their own admission.”
“How sick is she?” Nathan sits back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee. The wind rustles in his hair as the sun dips behind a cloud. His focus is lasered in on me, like we’re the only people in the world and his very existence hinges on what I say next.
“That’s hard to answer.” I glance at my hands, then at him. “It isn’t terminal, but at her worst, she’s unable to care for herself. Every ‘-ologist’ she’s been to hasn’t had a lot of hope she’ll ever have her life back. They make it sound like we should be grateful she’s not dead. But existing the way she was might be worse than death.” I shake my head, overcome with grief for what she’s lost and hope that she’ll find it again. “What she’s doing, it isn’t living.”
I explain the fear and confusion when Mom couldn’t form sentences. When all she could do was lie in the dark, hovering on the line of consciousness. I tell him about helping her to the bathroom and feeding her meals and sitting by the bed in tears, praying and hoping and wishing for something better for the woman who raised me.
“When I got into college, I promised myself Mom would never struggle again. I saved every penny I earned so I could build her a home. Like an actual house. It was a start, you know? To pay her back for everything she did for me after Dad left. Thank God I had that money saved. It’s all gone into her medical bills.”
That’s close enough to the truth. He doesn’t need to know any more. Not when things are so complicated between us. Not when I can’t trust what’s real and what’s not. I stare at the man beside me. His eyes are inviting, like morning in springtime, his hair soft and hanging in his face the way I like. He smiles gently, totally different from the bridge troll who knocked on my door a few hours ago. Which only makes everything more confusing.
If this is who Nathan really is, I could fall in love with him. I might be halfway there already. But if he’s determined to stay The Prince of Darkness, I’d be a fool to breathe life into those feelings.
Nathan leans his elbows on his knees and stares at his feet. “So now you know what happened with Blossom and I know why you live where you live and drive what you drive.”
“Is it so bad, getting to know each other?”
“Yes.” The word is hushed yet harsh. A deep truth with roots sunk into his heart. “And no.”
I stand and grasp the rails, staring out at the horizon as another cloud covers the sun. A cool breeze sends a shiver of goose bumps across my skin as the boat rocks in the waves.
I listen as Nathan stands. Close my eyes when his hands grip my shoulders. Soften as he turns me to face him. He’s close enough that I feel the warmth of his body. His eyes hold mine and he brushes a strand of hair out of my face.
“Why do you make it so complicated?” I whisper.
“Because you scare me.”
“I scare you? Me? The woman who talks to herself and fidgets when she’s nervous and drives a Honda and wears cheap clothes…she scares the famous philanthropist raised by super stars?” I huff a laugh and drop my gaze. “I don’t think you understand the situation.”
Nathan lifts my chin with the tip of his finger. “You’re beautiful. And smart. And I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. And I’m not supposed to feel any of that. I’m not supposed to make myself cum while imagining you on your knees in front of me. You’re not supposed to be the first and last thing on my mind each day.”
“Because we’re pretending?” I ask in a voice so quiet it’s nearly lost beneath the churn of the sea.
His gaze drops to my lips. Heavy and hooded. Another breeze slips between us, cold against the sweat at my temples. My breath hitches as Nathan cups the back of my head and presses his lips to mine, his warmth erasing the chill creeping into the air now that the sun is hidden behind clouds.
“Did that feel pretend?” he whispers, his lips brushing mine, his fingers in my hair.
“Not to me.”
“Not to me, either.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t want you to date me because I’m paying you. I just want you to date me.”
Garrett’s head appears over the rail as he hauls himself back into the boat, water streaming from his trunks and puddling at his feet. He slicks his dripping hair back as Micah follows him up the ladder, shaking seawater out of his brown locks.
“Weather’s changing,” he says, jerking his chin toward the sky. “Probably best to call it a day before things get worse.”
Nathan steps out of my personal space and I shiver, though I couldn’t tell you if it’s because of the chill in the air or the lack of his body next to mine.
TWENTY-THREE
Nathan
Dom
Please tell me you’ve got a date to the ROF auction
And please tell me she’s high-class and deserves you
Mina deserves me
Annnnddd…you’re right back where you started when I found you
What is it with you and these charity cases
Chances are you’re nothing but a giant fucking dollar sign to her
You know that, right?
Need I remind you of the shitshow known as Blossom?
You’re tiptoeing close to a line you shouldn’t cross.
