I drop my bag. Ah, she whirls. Her blues eyes widen and then cloud over seeing the suitcase. I’ve upset her and we haven’t started the first round of this. Not wise, Alan. Why the fuck did you pack a bag and bring it in here? What a moronic gesture to make.
Chrissie smiles and holds her arms wide. “I came back.”
I stare at her. After leaving me for two weeks, without even the effort of a phone call except the one yesterday, that’s what she has to say. No help there, not with that comment. And the tension in the room is palpable. I’m not sure if it’s me or her.
My temper flares. “Yes, I can see that.”
I move to the bar to fix my drink, sensing I’ll need one before this is through. I start dropping ice into a glass.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asks in that annoyingly calm voice she has when I’m about to get a healthy dose of playacting so she can hide from me what she’s really feeling.
I focus on pouring the scotch. “New York. I’m in the mood for a change of scenery. Southern California gets tedious after a while. I don’t know how you live here full time.”
There was more edge in my voice when I spoke than I intended and I regret it. Chrissie’s cheeks redden and her body visibly stiffens.
“It’s what I’m used to, I guess. It’s where I’m from, Alan.”
I move from the bar, tall scotch in hand, and settle on the arm of a chair. I take a cigarette from my pocket and light it.
I sit there smoking, studying her. Why the fuck doesn’t she say something? One useful line would be nice, Chrissie, to give me some indication of the direction we’re going today.
Finally, she moves from the wall of glass and sinks down onto a chair. It’s across the room from me. Not a good sign.
Decision made; there is no point in taking the initiative. It’s better to wait, see what she does, and figure out what the hell it means later.
She lifts her chin and meets my gaze directly. “I have some things I want to say to you, Alan, if you have time before you leave for New York to listen. It’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to say them on the phone.”
Fuck, not on the phone. That can only mean one thing. It’s going to be bad. Chrissie is nothing if she is not predictable in her unpredictability. The awful moments we always do face-to-face when I would prefer she spared me the effort.
Oh fuck, why doesn’t she get on with it so I can get the hell out of Los Angeles and start the process of trying to live without her again?
Angrily, I stomp out my cigarette in an ashtray.
“Are you going to say the things you came here to say, Chrissie, or am I supposed to try to figure them out on my own?”
Her body does a little jerk and those blue eyes widen and flash. I let out a slow, steadying breath. It’s better not to aggravate her. If I keep biting at her, she’ll lose her nerve, and I’ll never find out what she intended to say.
“Are you going to be mean or can you please just listen until I finish?” she says in a small, pleading voice.
Now I feel like an ass.
I shift my gaze away from her. She expects too much if she wants me to do this pleasantly, but then that’s Chrissie. “If you say something, I’ll listen. But you are not saying anything, Chrissie. You’re just sitting there, staring at me, tight-lipped like always. Is there a point to this, love? I’d really appreciate it if you got on with it.”
She stares at me. I rake back my hair in a well-practiced gesture that screams without me having to bother saying it that I’m pissed off and ready to be done with this.
I do another fast once-over of her. For some reason she’s more relaxed. The tension is gone from her posture and the features of her face have softened. She’s looking at me in that way she has that takes my breath away and would keep me here with her even if she wanted to run an icepick through my head.
“You’re the love of my life, Alan. I knew it in New York. I know it today. And I don’t think anything is going to change that. For either of us.”
Her eyes are wide and fixed on me. Effortlessly, she pulls me in, to the point where I am drowning in her and all the blood concentrates in my cock and reminds me why I’m willing to sit through this nonsense.
I adjust how I’m sitting on the arm of the chair. After a minute or two of her saying nothing, my anger is kicked up another notch. Some things never change with Chrissie. Make me hopeful, give me an erection, and then snatch it away. So Chrissie.
“I want four things, Alan. That’s all I ask if you have an interest in trying to make a go of us again.”
An Interest in trying to make a go of us again? Is she fucking kidding? What the hell does she think I’ve been trying to do for the last nine years? And what’s up with that fucking perfunctory, businesslike manner and voice of hers? A little sweetness, a touch of loving from her would definitely help at present.
Len’s words rise in my memory. Chrissie is a mother. Don’t fuck with her or she’ll rip off your balls. She’s not going to be interested in anything but marriage with you. Not this time, Manny.
I study her without letting her see me. Is this what I’m being dragged through, when all I want to do is get her into the bedroom, tell her I love her, and sink myself inside her? Chrissie being clear—in her unclear way—trying to muddle through some sort of pre-scripted set of maternal ground rules before she permits me back into her life?
I take a deep swallow of my scotch.
“I’m moving into this house with Kaley,” she announces in breezy confidence. “This is where I’ve decided to live if you want to live here, too. I won’t ever travel with you. Not ever. Don’t ask me to. To be with me, you have to be here. And when you’re home, you’re home. I expect you to be really here with me. And when you’re on the road, I don’t want to know what you do there. Not ever. If you can’t be discreet then don’t do it.”
I arch a brow. Oh you are, are you? Not a request. A statement, as if it’s a done deal and I don’t have vote in this. A part of me wants to tell her to fuck off and leave the room. But I’ve come this far. I might as well stay and see where she’s going with this.
“Don’t ever lie to me,” she whispers. “I don’t know if I will forgive you everything you do, but I do know I won’t ever forgive you for lying to me. Not ever. Not after my marriage to Neil. You have to promise me that. It’s the only way I can move forward with you.”
Ah, assertive and chastising. This is new. Her telling me what she wants from me. It’s a little thrilling and definitely a fucking turn-on. I can work with this.
“Let’s keep this simple. When it’s good, it’s good. And when it’s bad, I’m gone. That’s what I want, Alan. I love you. And that’s never going to change. That’s what I wanted to say to you. That’s why I’m here. I love you.”
She moistens her lips with her tongue and every part of me starts to throb. She thinks we’re through this, that she’s arranged our future in an absolute way, that we are soon to be in bed together, and she wants it as much as I do and isn’t afraid to let me know it.
Interesting. New facet of Chrissie. A turn-on.
I battle back the ache in my cock that is more than willing to let this be the end of our discussion today. But that little speech certainly deserves a response.
I set down my drink. “Are you finished?”
Fuck, that came out harsher than I intended, but I’m battling my body’s desire to pin her against the wall and fuck her hard now. There are a few things I need to say, though I probably shouldn’t, since I like where she left us and I most likely will fuck it all up again.
She nods and quickly lowers her gaze to stare at her hands.