Deliciously Obedient (35 page)

Unaccustomed
to awakening in a warm apartment in his own bed, Mike found himself
staring at his ceiling in confusion for a moment. No raw wood beams.
And the air was warm. Cozy. Comfortable.

Lydia.
Turning to the side, his eyes confirmed what instinct had told him:

Empty.

A
small, ripped piece of paper from the back of an envelope she must
have scavenged from somewhere in the apartment was a poor replacement
for that divine woman.

The
words read:

Thank
you.

I
don’t know what happens next.

But
we have what just happened.

And
if nothing else, it is enough.

<3

One
breath. Two breaths. Three…four…five and he let himself blink.

Enough.

Enough
was for people who convince themselves that wanting more is greedy.
Enough
was for people afraid of their own power.
Enough
was what people said to console themselves.
Enough
was what
you told yourself you could live with because
more
was
inconceivable. Impossible. Irrational.

Mike
didn’t want
enough
.

Mike
wouldn’t settle for enough.

And
as he padded to the shower he resolved to go out and find her,
because what he would accept was
more
.

And
nothing but.

“
You
two aren’t here to talk about your sex lives again, are you?”
Caleb complained.

“
Only
if you don’t get our food out here fast enough.”

He
ran like the wind while Lydia and Krysta cackled, his short-cut sandy
blonde hair glistening in the light that slipped between the window
blinds. “But you are, right?” Krysta asked when they settled
down.

“
Huh?”

“
Going
to talk about your sex life.”

“
You
first.”

“
That
would be a short conversation. Me, my vibrator, Brad Pitt—”

“
He’s
old!”

“
He’s
hot.”

Lydia
shuddered. “Old! Fifty!”

“
My
sex fantasy, my men.”

“
Old
fantasy,” Lydia grumbled as she stood and served them both waters,
grabbed two mugs and filled a carafe with coffee from the Bunn pot
across from them.

“
It’s
not like I’m getting some threesome action.”

Caleb’s
timely appearance made Lydia laugh. His fallen face only added to the
moment, blue eyes reflecting disbelief. Slamming down two plates of
pie—raspberry mint and key lime—he walked away, muttering, “Anal.
Threesomes. The Charles family legacy, folks.”

“
He’s
just jealous,” Lydia said, waving a fork she’d already plucked,
poking the green lime goodness.

“
Of
your men?”

“
Of
sex, period. Caleb hasn’t been laid since before Miley grew boobs.”

Spit.
A spray of water landed all over Krysta’s piece of pie. “LYDIA!”
she shouted.

“
Not
tasting that one, I guess,” she said in a prickly voice.

Looking
down, Krysta made a face. “Sorry. No sharing.”

“
I
like sharing.”

“
We
know,” Krysta said under her breath.

Kick.

“
OW!”
Bending down, Krysta rubbed her ankle. “Why’d you kick me?”

“
Because
I’m mean.” She stuffed three bites of the lime pie in her mouth
without thinking, then slowed down. This was too good. Couldn’t
waste it.

“
You
kick me again and I’ll…” Krysta was all bark, no bite.

“
You’ll
stare longingly at Caleb? Oh, how could I possibly deal with it.”

Reaching
across the table, Krysta stole her pie.

“
Hey!”

In
one impressive move, her friend shoved the last two-thirds of the
piece into her mouth, whole, giving her chipmunk cheeks and the
inability to chew.

“
I
love a woman who can savor the gourmet,” Caleb said dryly from
behind the counter, now refilling the coffee pot.

Alarm
filled Krysta’s eyes. “Mmmmf! Mnn Mnnn. Eh duh.”

Lydia
put her index finger on Krysta’s lips. “Don’t even try.”

“
Grandma’s
coming home today,” Caleb said to Lydia. Madge’s recovery had
been extraordinary and swift. “And Mom just took Aunt Karen to the
airport.” A deep vibration of guilt spread through Lydia. Damn!
She’d forgotten to offer, so caught up in her night with Mike.
Hadn’t even said good-bye to her aunt.

“
You
coming over?” Caleb asked. He was staying with Madge for the next
few months to make sure she was okay. That was what the family
understood; Madge had been told he needed to stay to help develop the
menu at Jeddy’s. Everyone kept the charade going.

Including
Madge.

“
I
told you I was. I have to make sure you haven’t destroyed my room.”

“
Not
like you’re ever moving back in,” he said slyly. “Doesn’t
Jeremy have his own place?”

Krysta
said nothing. Lydia took a delicate bite of cake and just shrugged.
The less said, the better.

“
Anyhow,
you going to the hospital to help move her?”

“
Mom
and Dad are there, right?”

He
nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched
Krysta dig in to her own piece of pie, her shoulders dropping and
eyes widening with pleasure. “Right. Two o’clock. I’ll make
sure I’m at the apartment and meet you guys there.”

The
key lime pie tasted sour as she let his question about Jeremy ping in
her head. Jeremy. Last night she’d fallen asleep in Mike’s arms
and it only now hit her that Jeremy stayed with Mike when he was in
town. He had no place of his own.

What
had happened to Jeremy?

Yanking
her phone out of her purse, she checked messages.

Nada.

So
she typed one:

Hey,
where are you? I miss you.

True.

And
she waited. And waited. And…nothing.

“
Who
you texting? Or should I ask, which of your guys?”

“
Jeremy.”

“
Everything
okay?” Krysta picked up on her concern.

“
I
spent the night at Mike’s last night.”

Krysta
leaned forward like a conspirator. “And?”

“
And
that’s where Jeremy normally stays when he’s in town. I…I can’t
believe I didn’t think about it. But where did he stay?”

“
Poor
Jeremy, huddled under a ragged coat off Exit 18 on the Pike.
Directing traffic for coins. Selling roses.” The sarcasm could have
been used as a sauce for one of Caleb’s meals. It was poured on
that thick.

“
Krysta.”

“
Well?
You’re overreacting. Worst case, he crashed in a hotel. The guy can
drop $50,000 on an autism benefit. I’m sure he can handle a few
hundred for one night in a hotel. I’m surprised he didn’t crash
at Mike’s, though.”

“
Why
would he?”

Krysta
made a choking sound. “Brown chicken brown cow.”

“
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
What the fuck?

“
You
ain’t no Mary fucking Poppins here.”

“
What’s
the brown chicken crap?”

“
Say
it fast.” Lydia did.

Caleb’s
burst of laughter from behind the counter and Krysta’s snicker made
her wonder what she was missing.

“
What
does a brown chicken and a brown cow have to do with Jeremy
appearing?” she hissed.

Krysta
couldn’t stop laughing. “Nothing.” She lowered her voice. “It’s
like the music in a porno. ‘Brown chicken brown cow.’”

“
Not
funny.”

“
It
is if you get it.”

“
Still
not funny.”

“
What
other cultural reference do
I
have for a threesome?”

She
had a point. “You think Jeremy is just going to magically show up
at Mike’s and I’ll be all, like, ‘Oh, two guys! My sex dream
has come true. Someone get the lube’?”

A
shrug was her reply.

“
You—
what
?
Where is this coming from?”

“
I’m
the one who should be asking that. Ever since ‘Matt Jones’
appeared at work, you’ve become some woman who distantly resembles
my old friend. Where, Lydia, is this coming from? We used to talk
about Starbucks and
Scandal
and how
Grey’s Anatomy
sucks these days and finding the right two guys. Now we talk about
reality TV and viral videos and Iceland and finding the right two
guys. Only instead of one of them being for me, they’re
both
for you!”

The
rush of Krysta’s rebuke humbled her. “I didn’t know you felt
that way,” she said in a small voice.

“
I
didn’t either.”

An
awkward silence settled in.

“
I
don’t like being like this,” Lydia said after a long pause.

“
I
don’t either.” Krysta reached across the table and clasped
Lydia’s hand. The motion was the same that she and Mike had shared
last night, but oh, so different.

“
Friends?”
Lydia asked.

“
Never
weren’t.”

“
Then
let me lay this out: Jeremy and Mike want me—for real, no jokes—to
be in a threesome with them.”

Jaw
hanging, Krysta squeezed her hands. “You get all the nice things.
No fair.”

“
A
minute ago you said you didn’t like the way I’ve been and all my
crises, and now you tell me I get all the nice things? Which is it?”

“
Both.
I can say both. And so can you.”

“
How
can you say that?”

“
Who
wouldn’t want one night with two incredibly hot guys? Lydia, that’s
the dream, right?”

“
Not
a dream.”

“
Then
what is it?”

“
Not
a one-time thing.”

“
Huh?”

“
They
want to create something I’ve never heard of.”

“
What’s
that? They want you to dress up like Robin Thicke and twerk them?”