Deliciously Obedient (25 page)

Or
dick up your—

“
Can
we stop for coffee?” Lydia asked, forthright and neutral, as if
none of the past hour’s events had happened at all.

“
There’s
a coffee place in the hospital,” he said, trying to keep the
tension out of his voice. If not for driving, he’d be a bundle of
nervous energy, tapping his foot, fidgeting uncontrollably, body
needing to get out what his mind and heart couldn’t process.
Watching Lydia kiss Mike as if she were embracing and loving a ghost
made Jeremy’s soul seize up. Jealousy had never been an issue with
him and Mike, but this…

Was
different.

In
a perfect world, the three of them would sit down at a lovely
restaurant, or dine in at Mike’s place, and have a rational,
mature, introspective conversation about the events of the past two
months. In his imaginary world, Mike would lay out his emotional
landscape, Jeremy would explain his feelings and Lydia would join in,
layered and nuanced, revealing and appreciated. The three would talk
late into the night, sometimes shy, other times brash—always
truthful and honest.

In
the end, they would come to some life-altering realization about love
and life and sensuality and what they wanted, an undefined (and,
perhaps, undefinable) relationship on the horizon, with a shared
future that held promise.

Shared.

That
was the key here, the part neither he nor Mike would openly discuss.

Yet.

And
then? Then they would fuck like Spring Break college students from a
conservative Christian bible college with a one-time hall pass.

Feeling
a bit like Bill Murray in
Groundhog Day
, he parked in the
hospital’s lot and guided Lydia to the espresso bar and bakery in
the lobby. Two double lattes later and her caffeine needs were sated.

But
not her need for so much more.

He
wasn’t enough, was he? All the doubts and insecurities from Dana
flooded through him, as hot and rich and dangerous as the steamy
frothed milk that scalded his tongue. Pain made the internal turmoil
somehow easier to withstand, the words held back by temperature and
temperament, his roiling chaos within unable to be unleashed right
now, because what would it serve? How would it help to delve deeply
into the incredibly complicated mess of the three of them right now,
as they entered the elevator and listened to Muzak that made him want
to slit his own throat? Really? Who turned Aerosmith’s
Walk This
Way
into some new-agey electronified version of aural
waterboarding?

Stepping
off the elevator, they made their way in silence to Madge’s room,
finding Sandy inside, smiling with abandon.

Madge’s
eyes were closed, but the ventilator was gone, the maddening hiss of
machinery designed to prolong life now turned off with a simple push
of a button, the woman looking less fragile and more like someone who
was simply recovering, taking the time and attention she needed to
see what came next.

“
Mom!”
Lydia’s hug was a little too tight, the wide eyes on Sandy making
her mother shoot him a questioning look. He just shrugged, instantly
transported back twenty years, feeling like a geeky kid again.

Would
that ever go away?

“
Lydia,”
Madge croaked, dry, wrinkled lips forming the sound. The word
Lydia
rolled off the tongue, requiring very little lip movement, and he
pondered that for about three-tenths of a second before moving back
so Lydia could go to Madge’s side, her hand coming to rest on his
arm briefly, a quick recognition that he was there, that she cared,
that they were still connected.

His
deep sigh of relief was mistaken by Sandy as aimed at Madge. “I
know! Mom’s recovery is amazing. Not out of the woods yet,” she
added, as if hedging her bets against a God who might take optimism
as a challenge to create more medical mischief.

“
But
better than yesterday,” he said, looking at Lydia hugging her
grandmother, his own frantic moth of uncertainty that nested in his
chest now going calm, the look of love that stretched between the
members of this family—all-encompassing and all too real—replacing
his sense of unease with a bigger feeling of wanting to join in.

Jeremy
tended to avoid clubs. All clubs. Groups and organizations and
anything social that involved obligation. Expectations. Needs.

But
here…this was something different.

“
Caleb
at the restaurant?” Madge asked, her voice like wet wasps nests.

“
Yes,
and he’s doing fine,” Sandy said as she plucked at the layers of
cotton blankets covering Madge’s thick, muscular legs. For an
eighty-something old broad, she was in great shape. Too bad his
mother hadn’t been the same.

“
He
knows about the order from the—” Thick, hacking coughs took over
Madge’s words, her face twisting in pain. A great whooping sound,
followed by a shuddering gasp, made Jeremy freeze in place and look
at Lydia to gauge her reaction. Their eyes met, and all he could do
was try to telepathically transmit support.

The
doctor, an older guy with a bald head and flat gray eyes, marched in
at that moment. “Good coughs! You want to clear all the gunk out of
those lungs.”

“
Is
‘gunk’ a medical term?” Madge asked slowly.

That
made the guy crack a smile as he avoided eye contact with everyone
and flipped her metal chart open. “Yes, yes it is. ‘Gunk’ and
‘crap’ are two of the finest words I learned in med school. Very
descriptive and to the point.”

They
all chuckled politely, then went silent for half a minute before the
doctor nodded for Sandy to go into the hallway with him, leaving
Jeremy and Lydia alone with Madge.

“
Where’s
Ed?” Madge asked.

“
He’s
been here twice, Grandma, and we’ll get him back again. I think
Meribeth took him home to rest.”

“
She
was here?” Madge waved toward a pitcher on the nightstand and Lydia
filled it, adding a straw, her movements so gentle and careful as she
held the straw to Madge’s lips, helping her drink, that Jeremy
found himself falling even more for her. That kindness and devotion
didn’t spring up from nowhere. It was a part of Lydia, a truth to
her core that emanated out into everything she did and was, and he
loved her for it.

Loved
her.

Draining
his latte, he threw the cup in the trash and walked out of the room
to give the two women some privacy, and to catch his breath. The
emotionality of the past few hours was taking its toll.

So
was the uncertainty.

Bzzzz
.
He knew the text would be Mike.

And,
checking his screen, he was right.

Coffee?
Mike had texted.

The
taste of the double latte still filled his mouth.

How
about a drink?
h
e wrote
back.

Even
better.

The
dive bar reeked of soured alcohol and men’s cologne, a bizarre mix
that reminded Mike of his college party days. Somehow, Jeremy had
extracted himself from the nightmare of Madge’s ICU stay, and he
sat across from his friend, both nursing pints of Guinness, Mike
wondering how the fuck this was all supposed to get untangled, yet
sure of one thing:

He
only wanted Lydia more now.

A
poster stapled at an odd angle on the post next to their table
advertised some local rock band called Random Acts of Crazy. Mike had
never heard of them, and when he pointed to the sign, Jeremy just
shrugged. Neither had, to be blunt, been part of the Boston college
party scene. Ever. Whatever pleasures people found in sweaty,
overcrowded, stinky bars stuffed with hot young women and desperate
guys trying to get laid, he…wait.

Maybe
he had missed something.

“
How
did you bow out of staying at the hospital?” he asked his friend,
who looked so quiet and pensive he wasn’t sure this really was
Jeremy sitting there, drawing circles on the glass’s condensation.

“
I
just asked.”

“
The
truth worked?”

“
Shouldn’t
it always?” That was a pointed barb. Time to sling an arrow back.

“
Even
when it comes to Diane?”

Jeremy’s
head snapped up, his eyes full of guarded fear that drained quickly,
replaced by a half-smile and a head shake. “You figured it out?”

“
Didn’t
take much. Diane blabbed pretty quickly, especially when a producer
offered her the moon if she could get me on camera for a future
episode of her series.”

“
Fuck.”
The word came out of Jeremy in a long groan. He drank half his beer
in a series of steady gulps, then put the glass down and added, “I
thought she’d keep her mouth shut.”

“
Can’t
keep her legs shut. Why would her mouth be any different?”

“
Did
she end up getting what she wanted?”

“
Her
show? Yeah. The producer for
Meet the Hidden Boss
gave her a
thirteen-episode shot.” Mike rattled off a description of the cable
series as a nearby jukebox fired up, his words buried until the music
quieted down, when Mike added, “I’m sure she fucked him, too.”

“
I
appear to be the only man she didn’t sleep with,” Jeremy said.

“
You’re
not missing anything,” Mike snapped back.

Mike
let that hang in the air, a few easy retorts flying fast and
furiously through his mind.
Let it settle
, he told himself.
Jeremy’s not an adversary.

Quite
the opposite.

Then
why did this feel like a competition? Like they were going to head to
head in a game Mike didn’t grasp? None of the women they’d ever
shared had triggered this kind of response in either of them. So when
the stakes were lower, they’d been cooperative.

Was
that it? The stakes were just too high this time?

Lydia
was in a league of her own.

The
question was: were either of them in there with her? Or both?

“
Can
we get to the point?” Jeremy signaled for another round of beers,
emptying his with ferocious speed. “We both want her. We both want
to have her want us. Us. Not you alone, not me alone. But if she’ll
only pick one, I want it to be me.”

“
Me
too.”

“
You
want her to pick me?”

Silence.
All Mike needed to do was stare him down in answer.

But
Jeremy stared right back.