The Best Friend (27 page)

But he was also the one man who kept her completely unsure about what he might say or do, not to mention, feel about her. He was so unpredictable, she couldn’t fathom his reaction to their lovemaking.

He followed her into the bedroom a few moments later. She dared to glance his way. His shirt was still undone, but on, and his pants were back on too, where they were supposed to be.

She swallowed her anxious nerves and quickly disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was sitting on the edge of her bed when she came out. He still said nothing.
Okay. Silence
.
Awesome.
It was like they were strangers. His gaze was glued onto her as she clicked the bathroom light off and came around the bed. He finally got up to go into the bathroom. She waited and didn’t know what to do. Get into bed? Pretend she was asleep? Ask him why he couldn’t be just a teeny, tiny more friendly or open, or just well… nice?

He came out and her breath caught in her chest. It was ridiculous. She felt more nervous with him then, at that moment, than ever before. After they’d already had sex. There was no reason for her to feel so weird.

He hadn’t done his pants up. No doubt, it wasn’t an easy task to do one-handedly. Was that why he so often wore sweatpants? She originally thought it was an anti-fashion, anti-society statement to go with the rest of his new look since retiring from the Army. But maybe it was more a matter of function than statement. She really did underestimate all the obstacles he lived with. Her neck and cheeks grew warm at her new realization. How could she have been so callous at first? She was a trained therapist, and yet, all she thought Tony needed to “get better” was to move out and do something. She thought if he engaged life again, he would automatically heal his wounds.

She had tried to completely downplay how hard every moment of his daily existence was on a physical level, let alone, the emotional ramifications of his limitations. She had not given enough considered how hard it must be for a man who was once extremely athletic and active, to suddenly be
handicapped.
He kept the shirt on and slid into bed beside her.

It was quiet for a long while and they didn’t touch. The air seemed taut with unsaid words, along with their nerves, and how weird the situation was.

“Are you okay?” Tony spoke in a hushed, hesitant tone. She lifted her head off the pillow, completely astounded he would even think to ask her.

“Yes… any reason I wouldn’t be?” she asked, puzzled.

“This wasn’t part of your plans.”
Statement. Not a question
. He felt sure she didn’t want this. And probably thought she regretted it. She slid across the space that was separating them. She was lying on the side without his arm. She adjusted her body beside his, letting her arms come around him. It was odd. She could lie her head on his chest, with nothing beneath her to make her uncomfortable. She felt around until she found his hand and clasped it in hers.

“Plans are often overrated,” she finally whispered, clutching his hand tightly. “Besides, that was the…”
What word could possibly describe it?
“No one could have ever planned on
that.
”

His chest moved as he released a breath fraught with tension. He chuckled finally and she just barely made out his nod in the gloom of her room. “Yeah,
that
was good.”

“
Good
? What then do you have to do in order to achieve amazing, fantastic, hot, and orgasmic? I mean, Jesus, what kind of sex do you usually have?” Her tone suggested her dismay at his lack of enthusiasm.

“You. I do you and it’s that amazing, fantastic, hot, and orgasmic. Is that even a word?”

“It is. And now I finally know what it means. What the action means,” she hesitated before adding, “So, it wasn’t just me?”

He swallowed, but after moment, whispered back, “No, it wasn’t just you.”

She let out the breath she was holding. It would have been humiliating for her to be so turned on, after having just had the best sex in her life, for Tony to say it was good, or fine, or decent, or, you know, regular sex, and it would have certainly crushed her. No… it would have totally ruined her.

But he thought it was something else too. Something different and special. And wonderful. What did that say about them being together?

The thing that amazed her most of all was that it had nothing to do with
the amputation.
Because until now, everything about Tony had something to do with his arm.

She suddenly sat up. “We should do it again. See if it was just an anomaly.”

“Anomaly?”

“Yes, you know, a one time, freak thing. And since it felt that good, why shouldn’t we?”

“Uh, okay? Did you think I’d say no? You don’t have to ask me twice.”

She straddled him, pushing her nightgown up. It was a lot easier with him flat under her and using the bed for support. He was ready at once, simply from talking to her. Okay. This just might be orgasmic again as her entire body responded to him. She leaned down to start kissing him.

She could feel his mouth stretch into a smile under her lips as he mumbled, “I had no idea you were quite so much… into it.”

“Into what? Sex?” she pulled back, frowning. “Why? Why wouldn’t I be into sex?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. You’re kind of reserved and conservative in your real life. I just didn’t expect it. It’s a good thing. In fact, it’s a great thing.”

“Will never told you about us?” she said, scowling in childish annoyance.

He squirmed under her. “I really don’t need Will’s image in my mind right now. Because it’s not as easy for me anymore.” He reached his hand up behind her head to pull her back towards him.

She resisted, keeping her mouth inches from his. “What do you mean? Not as easy for you?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to say that. Ignore it. Back to what you were doing.”

“No. What do you mean?”

He groaned his annoyance and his stomach contracted under her as he tried to sit up. He finally slid his hand out from behind her neck and used his elbow to get better leverage. He was able to half recline, by sliding her down his legs a bit. They were almost face-to-face. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What do you mean, Tony?” she asked again, her tone more serious.

“I mean, I’m an asshole for ruining the mood. Can’t you just forget it?”

“No. I want to know. Maybe I need to know. I’d like to know you, Tony. As you are now, not the way you were. I’m more attracted to you as you are now, so I guess we’re going to have to go with it. And that means you have to answer me.”

His eyeballs averted hers to stare at some point beyond her. “It means since I lost my arm I just haven’t felt much like… doing this.”

Her entire body jerked in surprise at his words. “Sex? You haven’t felt like having sex? What about the thing with the waitress? You said women come onto you because your arm is missing, and not the other way around.”

He kept his neck strained back from her, trying, she knew, to establish more distance. His tone was grumpy as he mumbled, “They do. She did. I just never call any of them. I don’t take them up on it. I-I actually don’t know why I don’t.”

She expelled a sharp breath and blinked. Holy Christ. He was… complicated, to say the a least. Her heart fluttered crazily in her chest at how he affected her. Everything about him. When he was rude to her. When he was nice to her. When he was giving heartbreaking speeches, or smiling kindly to a lonely, little girl.

Gretchen was shocked and touched that he’d been so honest with her.

She leaned her forehead in to touch his. “It ruined everything for you, didn’t it?”

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. “Yes. It did,” he replied simply. His tone was soft and crisp.

She touched his cheek with her index finger and he opened his eyes in response. “It didn’t ruin this. I can attest to that. It might have delayed you wanting to do this, but it didn’t ruin it. Believe me. That was… you were better than any two-armed man I’ve ever had sex with. Will included.”

His eyes widened. “Did you really just say that? Two-armed man? Gretchen, no one says stuff like that to me.”

She smiled. Glad to see his incredulity and half smile of amusement. “I did. And I meant it.”

He eyed her. “Will included?”

“I thought I just said that. But yes. Will included. Now that you seem interested in me, can we see if it
was
just an anomaly?”

He finally smiled a full grin that went up into his eyes and sent her heart beating wildly. Holy crap, she liked seeing him look so happy.

And she soon realized it was no anomaly. It seemed to be a fact that they would have to deal with.

****

Tony stared up at Gretchen’s ceiling. Why did he do this? Why was he there? And why did she have him here? He could hear her out in the kitchen. It wasn’t even eight o’clock on Christmas morning. He should have been at home, alone, in his parents’ damn basement. He should have been feeling like shit and sorry for himself that it was Christmas, and he was all alone in his parents’ basement at the age of thirty-five years.

But instead, he was lying in the bed of the woman he fantasized about for two decades. It was surreal. Crazy. Bat-shit impossible that he was there. And all at her insistence.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was getting into. She asked him there. Drove him there. Came on to
him.
He would have never come onto Gretchen. No. No way. He never believed she wanted him to. She never wanted him before, but now she did?

He didn’t know what to make of it. Or what to do now with it. Or even how to act. He sighed and rolled over. It was easier staying by himself in his parents’ basement. There were no awkward situations. No contorted moments with his arm. No sympathy. No sorrow. No feeling like a freak.

He finally got up to piss, locating his underwear and pants, which he struggled into. He hated the buttons on pants. They were always a pain, and the material usually too stiff and tough to manipulate one-handed. He took a few moments to do up his shirt.

At some point, the sleeve that he kept pinned came undone. He hunted around the bed until he found the safety pin and quickly adjusted it all. Fine. Okay. He looked kind of presentable.

Gretchen was at the stove, cooking. Breakfast? For him? He stood in the hallway where he could see her. She didn’t yet know he was there. She was barefoot, and still had the silky nightgown on. It ended a few inches above her knees. The color was soft, subtle, feminine and pretty. A lot like how he would have described her. A long, flannel robe covered her shoulders, and should have ruined the effect of the sophisticated, sexy nightgown. The robe was comfortable and warm; but all it did to him was cause his damn, stupid, ever greedy heart for Gretchen to bump strangely in his chest. Her hair was all messed up. She hadn’t brushed it yet. He remembered his hand running through it as he grabbed it and held her head still so he could kiss her before she did other things to him… He was fully responsible for thoroughly creating the ratty, puffy mess of her hair this morning.  She pushed some of it behind her ears. The darker strands were all mixed up and contrasted with the blond. Barefoot and cooking bacon and pancakes, she was the most desirable sight he’d ever beheld.

He shuffled into her living room and paused at the bar. She glanced up and smiled with a shy, sweet—kind of at odds with the forward, exciting woman he recalled from last night— smile.

Was he to believe that soft, dreamy, happy look she had on her face was just from seeing
him?
He was pretty sure he hadn’t made anyone happy in many years. Perhaps once, he might have made Audrey a little bit happy, but that was before he left on his last tour.

“Merry Christmas!”

He winced. She was way too happy about it being Christmas. What adult cared so much about a freaking holiday?

“Merry Christmas,” he said with half her enthusiasm.

She looked up from her cooking. “Do you like pancakes? And bacon?”

Being cooked by the woman who had sex with him three times last night? Yeah, he liked that. He liked it a lot. But that sounded weird, so he simply nodded. The festive lights were all back on. Christmas carols played in the background, and the table was set with matching china on Christmas-themed placemats.

“Were you expecting company?”

“Just you. I did that for you.

His heart beat faster at hearing her words. They were soft and sweet. They even sounded truthful. Did he hurt her feelings by asking that? “Uh, well, thanks. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

She flipped the burners off and placed the hot food onto the plates she set there. She scooted around the bar and set them on the table. Her next trip brought orange juice and coffee. She finally looked up at him. “Sit. And try to remember to be polite and grateful, so you don’t ruin a nice gesture towards you, okay?”

He pressed his lips together to refrain from smiling. It had been a long time since anyone, other than his mother, did anything nice for him. She started to pass by him, her face set in annoyance. He surprised her and himself when he put his hand on her arm and stopped her. She turned with her eyebrows raised in question. He pulled her forward to him, and her head came to rest directly under his chin. She fit him perfectly. Usually, he had to lean way down with women, but not with Gretchen. She was tall enough to lean into him and stand on her own. He leaned down and touched her lips in a soft, closed mouth kiss that lingered in a languid caress. When he lifted his face from hers, her eyes were still closed and her mouth still puckered. She finally lifted her eyelids and her green eyes looked surprised, as well as soft and dewy.

Finally, she nodded and whispered; “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

He nuzzled her neck and mumbled, “What? Being nice?”

She grinned. “Yes. You’re rather good at it when you choose to be.”

They sat down and ate her breakfast. It wasn’t as weird as he thought it could have been. The food was easy to cut, so no stress there. He doubted she considered that when preparing it. He could discreetly pick up the bacon and eat it while tearing apart the pancakes with his fork. It was foods like steak, or corn on the cob, or even hamburgers that could be tricky. If he couldn’t cut his food, it caused his mood to inevitably plummet and wither. There was something about being a grown man who was unable to cut his own fucking food that made him feel about an inch tall. And no doubt, all of it contributed to his previous lack of interest in sex.