Lust in Translation (Harbour Point SEAL Series Book 1) Page 6

  “Like I look at you,” he says, correcting me. “That’s what you mean. He doesn’t look at you like I look at you.”

  Swallowing a bite, I shake my head. “No. He is…an asshole. And says things that no one else will say to me for fear of hurting my feelings.”

  Adam draws a long swallow out of his beer bottle. “You need me to be more of an asshole?”

  “You don’t understand,” I say. His tone has changed, and with good reason. Adam is on the defensive. Friendships between women and men rarely are platonic. Even if they begin that way, one person will always end up developing feelings that are more than friendly. “Straight talk. He’s pragmatic.”

  “What have you been telling him? This isn’t just your business, you know? I don’t want you confiding in some stranger about us. Me. Our business.”

  Fair point. I set down my fork. “I don’t want to talk about this,” I say.

  “Of course you don’t, you’ve already talked about it once today with some other man.”

  I slam my palm down on the granite next to me and my plate jangles. “You don’t understand.”

  Adam stands. “Help me understand. Can you manage that much for your ol’ husband then?”

  I turn on the stool and face him. He’s towering over me. A threat looming. “You want me to stop being depressed. You never give me reasons why. You treat me like I’m this frail, delicate person. I just want to live outside of this mess.” I wave my arm around the house. “Being here, in this house, just reminds me of the things I’m trying to forget. Maybe that makes me weak. I know I’m not proud of what I’ve turned our marriage into. But did you ever think that it was supposed to disintegrate like this? That this was the track we would have always been on even if Noel was here now?”

  “You want pragmatic asshole, right?” Adam says, clearing a tick in his throat. “All of that is bullshit. Excuses for not wanting to work things out at home. Do you need the doctor to tell you that, or do you think you can take my word for it? Because I’m being a straightforward asshole and all?”

  “I have to go,” I say, tilting my chin up, bringing my plate to the sink and rinsing it before putting it in the dishwasher.

  “Why is it so easy for you to walk away from me?”

  This is the point in arguments when people say things they don’t mean. My stomach flips as I lean against the counter. “You didn’t want to marry me in the first place. Forgive me for not wanting to put the effort into maintaining this fucked-up carnival we’re playing in.”

  With that, I stride out of the kitchen and make my way to my closet in the spare room. He’s spluttering, trying to find the words to fix the blunder, but he’ll never be able to take those words back. I’ll never be able to take mine back either.

  I hate that more than anything else.

  I pull out a heavy, red sweatshirt, one from college, and fish my woolen socks from my dresser drawer. My dress is pooled around my feet before I remember I never shut the door. Adam is standing there, glaring at me with equal parts desire and rage.

  Not lust, I think. Definitely not lust. “Where are you going?”

  “Leo invited me to the cranberry bog off Peasant Street tonight. There’s lights there so it’s safe. His little sister loves the cranberry bog,” I say, facing him square on, in my panties and bra. “She died of cancer. He needs a friend to talk to. It’s not about my messed-up life tonight. It’s about his.” I smile. It’s mean. “That’s what friends do. Right?” Adam doesn’t have many friends these days either. It’s sort of a jab. He works too much. “If you’ll give me permission.”

  “You’ll go and talk to him about his problems, but won’t talk to me about ours. What am I supposed to make of this?” Adam looks away from my body. “Get dressed.”

  “All we do is talk. Constantly.” Then it hits me. “You think he’s getting something you’re not?”

  “What does that mean?” Adam barks.

  I slide the green cotton panties down my legs and unhook the mismatched bra. “Fuck me.” I swallow hard. There’s no turning back now. This will fix everything. A kiss made him happy all day. Fucking should tide him over for at least a week or two. Maybe more. “Fuck me right now. You’re my husband. No one else gets this.”

  Adam steps into the guest room. Just a step. I hate it. Then another. “You don’t mean that.”

  “What part?” I ask. “No one else is getting my body, Adam. Take it. Relish the fact that it’s yours for the taking.”

  He presses his lips into a firm line, and I know the decision is weighing heavy on his mind. “Give and take?” Adam asks, loosening the tie around his neck. Stretching his head from one side to the other. My heart sinks. He unbuttons his crisp white shirt and untucks it from his slacks.

  “Exactly,” I say, voice shaking. “Give and take.”

  Give. Give. Give. He’s your husband. Autopilot. It happens with my permission. I offered it. Hand on my waist. Heat from his touch. Lips on mine. Fingers inside me. A groan. His hand on my wrist. My hand on his stiff cock. Lips on neck. Fingers on skin. Wetness. Head on pillow. Tongue on nipple. Tongue on other nipple. Lips on lips. Cock inside me. Thrust. Groan. Thrust. Lips on lips. Thrust.

  “Oh, my God,” Adam rasps at my ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  Heavy breaths. Familiar scents. Face on my neck. Cum on my stomach.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” I call out, twining my hands around his neck. Fake orgasm. Lips on lips. Whispered words. Adam leaves the room. His heat on my body remains.

  I grab a tissue and wipe it off. I don’t cry. I couldn’t do that. Not when I’m supposed to be happy right now. We’ve reconnected. Isn’t this the whole purpose of all of those therapy sessions? To bring us back together. I clean up in the bathroom attached to this room and Adam pops his head in.

  “Hey, ah, I’m sorry, I, that, was amazing. Are you feeling okay?”

  “What? Like, is my vagina okay?” I ask, smirking.

  He taps his head, wincing. “Your head, too?”

  “I don’t think it hit the headboard once,” I proclaim. Drying my hands off with a hand towel. “My thoughts are okay, too, Adam.” I meet his eyes in the mirror. “That was great.” I force a smile. “We’ve come so far.”

  He agrees with me, and then recaps the whole escapade like I wasn’t a part of it. I kind of wasn’t, so it’s good to have the play by play when we dissect it at our next appointment. He grabs me by the waist and pulls me against his chest. He kisses the side of my head and leaves the bathroom with a skip in his step. He’s oblivious. I just solved all our marital problems, in his eyes, by having sex with him. I shake my head as I pull on my jeans, and all of the layers of clothing I’ll need for a Cape Cod night.

  I pull a beanie over my head before exiting the room. Adam wishes me a nice time with my friend at the bog and retreats to his office to finish up some work. It’s shocking how easily his fears were silenced. As long as I live, I know I will never understand men and the way their brains work. Just as well because that means Adam will never understand me and how little what I just did meant.

  I have to use my GPS to get to the bog as I’ve never been to this particular one. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive. I see a lone truck parked off to the side as I round the curved turn on the one-lane road. I park next to it and hop out of my car, steeling myself for the bitter cold on my face. “Simmons,” he barks, and I realize he’s in his truck bed. I pop my head over the edge and see him lying down on a blanket.

  “You should do this in summer,” I say. Rounding the corner. “Definitely isn’t the muggy heat of our beach talks,” I add, hiking my leg up to climb in. Sitting next to him, I look over at the expanse of the bog. They have already finished harvesting this year, so it looks like a big old lake. In the summer and late fall it is filled with cranberries and a beautiful red color. It’s been super cold, so it’s frozen over and sort of loses a bit of the charm I loved so well from earlier in the year.

  “I didn’t t
hink you’d come,” he says, his breath blowing smoke into the air between us. The heat spreads across my face, and a familiar tingle slides up my spine. Confirmation that I do not feel this with Adam. Not in any way, shape, or form. Maybe if you tried to enjoy sex you’d feel differently, my subconscious whispers. Not the same, I think.

  “What errands did you have today?” I ask, turning back to look at his face. “Better make it a good story, I had to have sex with my husband to get out here tonight,” I say it jokingly, but when Leo meets my gaze, I realize how messed up it sounds. His face is aghast in horror.

  “What?” Leo sits up, frame towering over me. Protective.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Tonight I want to talk about you. And Natalia. Not my messed-up life.”

  “You can’t say stuff like that and expect not to explain your words.”

  I shrug. “It was just an act. I think he feels threatened that we’re sort of picking our friendship up where we left off. Just reminded him I’m married to him and he doesn’t have anything to worry about. It was going to happen sooner or later. Might as well be now.” When I’m trying to throw him off my track.

  “You do know I come out here by myself all the time and I’m okay? You didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to on my account. I’ll talk to him. Let him know we’re just friends,” he says the last two words like it’s a joke, and I can’t help but recognize that my face is flaming in the middle of this icy tundra. I rub my gloves together and do my best, unperturbed woman routine.

  I wave him off. “It’s fine. He gets it now. How easily convinced you men are.”

  “You fuck him and he thinks you’re his?”

  Him saying the word fuck sends shockwaves to the place they should have been forty-five minutes ago. “I’m married to him. That’s how it works. All I keep hearing during this healing process is give and take. I gave.”

  “Sex wouldn’t convince me of anything,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders. A gesture I need because I feel like I’m unraveling at warp speed right now. Nothing makes sense. “I never subscribed to the give-and-take bullshit. Someone always gives more. There’s imbalance in that phrase. Tell me exactly what we’re exchanging. That’s the key to success.” More obscene truth I wish I could discredit.

  Sighing, I shake my head and decide to ignore the truth and comment on his first statement. “Good to know you’re not a caveman,” I deadpan. “Adam isn’t either. He’s grasping at straws right now. I can’t blame him.”

  “Kendall,” Leo whispers, warm breath on my cheek. I turn to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to think about you fucking him anymore. Talk about something else.”

  I swallow hard. He said fuck again. I nod. “Tell me about your errand.”

  “Well, I’d rather not talk about that either.”

  “Are you also a spy?” My voice is loud and I let out a laugh when I hear the sarcasm in his grunt.

  “You shouldn’t talk like that,” he says, and my stomach lurches. The reminder of the world we live in these days.

  I cover my mouth with a gloved hand and meet his eyes. His brown eyes are twinkling with mirth. “Kidding. It’s probably safe to talk about whatever you want out here.”

  “Jerk,” I say. “Where are your parents now?”

  “I’d rather not talk about them either. They’re okay. Just living their own lives completely different than the ones I’m familiar with. They left Natalia here. I still can’t believe that, but whatever.”

  Hard conversations. Isn’t that what I crave? Because they aren’t mine. This pain doesn’t belong to me. “You realize she’s not here, right? You can’t tether yourself to a gravestone. She lives in your memories.”

  Leo looks at me. “You give solid advice you don’t take yourself. You know that, right?” He mimics my voice.

  Tilting my head back, I laugh. Warmth floods my body. “That’s how it works. I’m really smart when it comes to helping other people, it seems. I can’t fix myself, though.”

  Leo clears his throat, and lets his gaze flick over my face. From close proximity, I see every line and freckle on his face. “Say I take your advice and leave this place. Then will you miss me?”

  He rounds the conversation back to one earlier in the day. “Maybe,” I reply. “Probably shouldn’t, though.”

  “Why?” he asks, challenging.

  “Honestly? Look at us right now. We look like lovers embracing on a cold winter night. The ambience of the cranberry bog endearing and the star-filled sky alluring. I’m a married woman. It’s not right,” I say, recalling Adam’s fears from earlier. “I should put his desires above a friendship with you. I should respect his wishes. I should want to quell his fears legitimately instead of using sex.” I tip my chin up and play connect the dots with the Little Dipper, and sigh.

  “But,” Leo says.

  “You know what. I don’t care what I should do. Talking to you makes me feel like me.”

  “We can’t go back in time, Kid. There’s no way to transform into the person you used to be. Don’t let the nostalgia lead you astray or be an excuse for a decision you’ll regret later.”

  My eyes wander to another constellation, Draco. Anything to busy my mind and distract me from the awareness of being warmed by his embrace. “You’re saying you’ll regret being my friend?”

  “I’m saying you’ll regret trying to be mine.”

  I gulp. “Making assumptions big time there, buddy.”

  He sighs and releases me a bit. “When are you going back to Bronze Bay?” Effortless change of subject.

  “Summer,” I say, nodding. “Definitely when it’s so hot my feet will scorch on the beach sand.” I love Cape Cod and the seasons, but I miss my mom and the beach—the Florida beach. The beaches here are these tiny little rocky things that might fit fifteen people if you lay your towel so close to the next person you can smell their sunblock. The shoreline is different because of the climate. There’s really no comparison. People don’t live here for the beaches.

  “Solid,” Leo replies. “I should get back there soon, too.” Thoughts of us together, in Bronze Bay pop up, and I have to squash them because what others would think—because of what it would look like. Adam will never understand this.

  “You really think talking to Adam is going to help?” I ask.

  He moves his head back and forth. When he leans it my way, his chin brushes my cheek. Butterflies infiltrate my stomach. “He’s a man, so he’s going to naturally hate me, but despite the person some think I am, I’ll never fuck around with someone else’s girl. I’ll make sure that’s clear.” Leo lifts and lowers his shoulders. “Can’t do much more than that.”

  “Comforting,” I say. “A real gentlemanly comment. You’d win a Nobel Prize for morality.”

  He chuckles under his breath. “It’s not easy being sleazy.”

  “You can’t be that gross. Do you have a girlfriend? If you do, I feel like you wouldn’t be here alone. If you don’t, I think Adam will hate our friendship even more.”

  “If I had a girlfriend I wouldn’t bring her here. It’s cold as fuck.” Leo shivers to drive his point home, huge grin on his face. “I don’t. Not anymore. It was, ah, complicated for a while.” His whole body flinches as he takes his next breath. Not because it’s seventeen degrees either.

  “She sounds like a real nice lady,” I return. Jab where I can to lighten the mood. Friends can do that.

  He smiles awkwardly. “Nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe her. Clingy. That’s a good one.” He nods. “It’s a small town.” He gestures to the farm next to us and the desolate woodlands that surround the bog. “Smaller than Bronze Bay. It makes dating tricky.”

  “Wait, what you really mean is it makes avoiding chicks after you’ve fucked them tricky?”

  He smiles with his eyes. “Something along those lines.” Leo coughs into his fist. “She didn’t want to break up, and I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.”

  That makes my chest hurt.
For the girl. “How did you know it wasn’t going anywhere?”

  He shifts positions as his arm falls away from my shoulders. Leo turns his head to meet my gaze. His face is illuminated by the light posts surrounding the property. Somehow, I know what he says next isn’t the truth, and he doesn’t want to be honest with me. “Sometimes you just know. It was fine, at first, but after a few months I knew the spark wasn’t there.”

  “The spark won’t always be there, Leo. Sometimes you have to light matches, throw kindling on the extinguished flames…work for it. What do you think happens after a few decades of marriage? Sparks aren’t flying. My counselor will tell you that.”

  “You still have the spark with Adam?” Leo counters.

  I clear my throat and the cold air burns. I don’t answer right away.

  “Seems to me that if you think a spark can be created from nothing, then you have nothing to worry about. Your marriage is fine.”

  He’s right. “I’m an awful person. I needed to hear this. Thank you.”

  “Hey, hey, hey. I’m not giving you advice, I’m just calling truths like a goddamn referee. That’s my specialty.” He grins, but I see the pain behind his eyes as he looks off into the distance. “Seems you don’t have anyone willing to be honest with you.”

  “Everyone is afraid. No one understands what’s going on with me. I’m a grenade. No one knows whether to hold me and defuse me or toss me to someone else. I don’t even know, to be honest.” I pause and enjoy the silence of the night. “You should try to ignite the spark if that poor girl is still hung up on you and that’s all that’s keeping you from committing.” That’s what a friend would say.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Leo replies. “Or maybe I distance myself as much as possible and move the fuck on.” Leo coughs again.

  “Want to move into the cab where there’s heat?”

  He nods and we both shiver as the vents kick the icy air around the cab of Leo’s truck. It turns to heat and we both hold our hands over the vents. “Tell me the last memory you have of Natalia and the bog,” I whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the blowing heat.