The front door opened and closed as Candy walked in. Lucas was on his feet immediately. “Hey, sugar.”
T.S. looked on as Lucas met his wife at the door with a kiss. Candy was so much smaller than her husband, but there was no hesitation as she went up on her toes to return his embrace. There was such trust, such love between them that a pang of envy touched his heart.
Put it away, he ordered himself. That wasn’t for him. Lucas had gotten lucky. Candy was one in a million. So was Missy, that nagging voice in the back of his head protested. She might be one in a million, but she obviously wasn’t his one.
He started to stand, but Candy waved him back to his seat. “Don’t rush off on my account. Sit. Stay for a while.” She took off her coat and hung it by the door. Her boots came next. Lucas took her hand and led her to the sofa, pulling her down beside him.
He lowered his butt back down on the chair, watching Candy like a man might watch a lit stick of dynamite. He hoped like hell she wasn’t going to start on him about Missy. The women were best friends after all. If there was something he understood it was loyalty and friendship.
“How are you?” Her softly asked question made his chest ache.
He shrugged. “I’m okay. It’s no big deal.” He toyed with the bottle in his hand, eventually putting it on the table in front of him.
“Give her some time.” He wished she’d stop talking about it but Candy was just getting warmed up. “Missy was really hurt by this. It hit her hard.”
A fresh spurt of anger surged through T.S. “And you think I wasn’t? She came out of nowhere with this, threw it at me and then left.” That’s what hurt the most. After everything they’d been through together, she hadn’t even asked for his side of the story.
Candy nibbled on her bottom lip, concern filling her face. Great, now he felt even worse. It was a wonder Lucas hadn’t popped him one for upsetting his wife. “I gotta go.” He pushed to his feet.
Candy bounded off the sofa, took a step toward him and threw her arms around him. He held his arms out by his side, not quite sure what to do. He shot Lucas a pleading glance but the ass just sat there and grinned.
“Ah, thanks.” T.S. awkwardly grasped Candy by the shoulders and gently moved her away from him.
But she wasn’t going to let him escape that easily. She grabbed his hand and held on. “Don’t leave. Not yet. Did you have dinner?”
He didn’t want dinner. Wasn’t the least bit hungry. He wanted to go home and wallow in his anger and hurt. He wanted to go back in time and do things differently. He should have stayed away from Missy. He’d known she’d be nothing but trouble. And he’d been right. They could write that on his damn tombstone when he died: He was right. Too bad he hadn’t listened to himself. Would have saved him a world of hurt.
Of course, he’d never have known the sublime pleasure of sex with Missy either. The way her eyes darkened when she was aroused. The soft little sounds she made when she was getting close to coming. How her nails dug into his ass when he fucked her hard and fast.
Shit. He had to stop thinking about her. He was getting a hard-on while he was in mixed company. Not good.
“I really should go.” Home to his empty apartment. To the silence broken only by the sound of the television. Not that he’d ever been lonely before. But then he’d never had anything to miss.
He could always get out his little black book and call a female friend or hit a bar and find a willing woman. His erection promptly died. Well, shit. Seemed his little buddy didn’t want any woman but Missy. And wasn’t that a kick in the pants.
He was well and truly screwed. Missy meant more to him than he wanted to admit. Somehow she’d gotten beneath his barriers and made him start to believe in miracles. He knew better.
Candy turned her pleading brown eyes on him and he knew he was sunk. “Stay.” She didn’t wait for a reply but tugged him toward the kitchen. “Lucas made the best chocolate cake in the world yesterday and there’s still some left. It won’t take me long to make some coffee to go with it.”
Almost two hours later, T.S. unlocked his front door and let himself into his home. The low hum of the refrigerator was the only sound to break up the quiet. He closed the door and locked it.
Missy hadn’t been here often, maybe three or four times. He much preferred to go to her place. It felt more like a home. His apartment was just a place to sleep and eat and watch television.
He kicked off his boots and hung up his jacket, staring at the barren walls. He’d lived here for years but hadn’t bothered to do much beyond move in furniture, his books and music. Oh, the place was a showpiece in terms of architecture and finishes. He had granite countertops in the kitchen and stainless steel appliances.
But none of that mattered.
The apartment was empty. Just like him.
“Shit.” He dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration and tried not to think about Missy. He didn’t want to know how she was doing or what she was doing. “Liar,” he muttered.
The phone rang and his heart began to race. Maybe it was Missy. And maybe he’d won the damn lottery. He didn’t think so. Common sense prevailed and reminded him it was probably his mother. He was supposed to have called her tonight.
He could have let the machine get it but that would be too cowardly. He plucked up the receiver. “Hi.”
“Theo, how are you?” His mother’s warm voice washed over him. No matter what else he could say about his crappy life, his mother had always been there for him, always done her best.
“I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I was out. Just got in.” He turned the conversation around to her. “How are things with you?”
He listened with half an ear as she chatted about the goings-on in the neighborhood and the wonderful day shopping, she and her friend, Dotty, from the apartment next door had had. “That’s great, Mama,” he added when she finished speaking.
She paused and, even over the phone lines, he could hear her thinking hard before she spoke. “I do not like to interfere in your life, Theo,” she began.
“I know. And I appreciate it.”
“But,” she continued, “you do not sound happy, my son.”
“It’s nothing.” No way was he talking about Missy to his mother. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft with understanding. “But I am here for you if you need me.”
His chest tightened and his voice was rough with emotion when he finally answered. “I know, Mama. You always were.” He hung up the phone and headed to the bathroom. He was dirty and sweaty after a day’s work. But more than that, he needed to wash away this day.
Fifteen minutes later, he flung himself down on his bed. Naked, he lay there in the dark trying not to think. It didn’t work.
He wondered what Missy was doing and if she was having better luck than he was not thinking about them.
Chapter Eleven
“You can’t go on like this.”
Missy looked up and found Candy standing in the doorway to her office. She didn’t pretend not to understand what her friend was talking about. It had been a week since she’d last seen T.S. One long, unending week.
God, how she missed him. His sense of humor, his steadiness, his hard hands on her body in the middle of the night. Stop it, she admonished herself. She did miss the sex and the closeness that came after it, but she missed much more than that. She missed eating dinner with him, talking to him about her day. He always had a different way of seeing things that helped her figure out what to do with a problem.
Heck, she’d even missed Sunday afternoon football with him. She’d sat in front of the screen, dry-eyed and alone, unable not to watch it. Which wasn’t good.