Made to Love (23 page)

We sat in silence for several minutes.  I
couldn’t exactly sit in judgement; less than thirty days at Elite, dancing
around the inevitable with Nathan, and I’d caved.  But then, Nathan wasn’t
married. 

“Brooke, I had no idea.  No idea.”

“I know.  And I’m sorry I was such a bitch to
you when you got home yesterday.  It was just all these emotions, realizing
that after a year and a half, I was never going to be more than a convenience,
and I was just so angry.  And then you walked in with Nathan.  And I just kinda
snapped.”

I nodded in acceptance of her apology.  “So
what now?”

“Well, for starters, we might have to find a
new place to live.”  She lifted her shoulders at my shocked expression. 
“Roger—well, Elite—pays for this apartment.  He paid me well, but still not
enough to afford this place.”  She held up a hand as my mouth opened to speak. 
“I cashed your rent checks but put them in a savings account at the bank.  All
your money is still there; don’t worry.”

“And then I’m going to have to find another
job, obviously.”  She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the
couch.   “God, he was furious when I emailed him my resignation.  He called me,
and we argued all morning, but he signed it.  It isn’t his choice, it’s mine.”

I fiddled with the label on my water bottle. 
“What about work?  I mean, could you maybe work in another department or
something?”  I hated the idea of her losing the job she loved so much.  “What if
word about this gets out. . .”

Brooke opened one eye and glanced over at me,
before closing it again.  “I’m not that naïve to think people don’t already
know about us, no matter the lengths we took to remain secret.  No one will
ever say anything, though.”  She lifted her head and looked at me.  “Would
you
take on Roger Preston?”

Good point.

“And I think it’s best I just sever all
ties.  Even if I didn’t work for Roger, I’d be in the same building, and we’d
both know it.  I want to say I can be around him and not want to rip his
clothes off, but I’m not there yet.”

I still couldn’t believe I was hearing Roger
Preston and ripping his clothes off in the same sentence, but then again, he was
Nathan’s father.  And I was finding I had no problem whatsoever dropping my
panties for that man, so I guess a little understanding was warranted.

But she wasn’t done.  “What’s the big deal
about Helen’s dress?  Did you steal it or something?”

 I heaved a sigh.  I’d been hoping she’d
avoid the subject further.  “It isn’t Helen’s.”  Confusion marred her features
and I held up a hand.  “I met Helen when I was thirteen years old.  It was my
birth mother’s dress, and one of the only things I have left from her.”  I
swallowed, painful memories clogging my throat.  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t
get into my life before Helen right now.  I just can’t.”

Brooke opened her mouth as if to say
something, but then closed it again.  It was several moments before she spoke. 
“I didn’t know, Reagan. . .I. . .whatever happened, just know that I’m here if
you ever want to talk, okay?”  I nodded, and she seemed to sense my sudden
somber mood.  She brightened and changed the subject.  “So.  About you and
Nathan.”

I covered my face with my hands and groaned. 
I’d been hoping she’d be done with that, too.  , But Brooke was not to be
deterred.  “I’m not mad, and I’m not going to give you a lecture, okay?  But
I’d be lying if I said that his reputation didn’t precede him.  He wears the
Preston name, and he wears it well.  I’m just saying be careful, that’s all.”

“Okay,” I replied through my hands, before
letting them fall.  “That’s all?  You’re not going to ask for details?”

Brooke laughed.  “Oh, I’m gonna need
details.  I’m just giving you about thirty seconds of lead time before the hard
questions start.  You ain’t getting off that easy.”

I sighed, picked up my cell and dialed a
nearby Chinese restaurant.  “Okay, but we’re gonna need food first.”

Nathan

I rolled over and fumbled for my phone.  Five-thirty
in the morning; entirely too early.  I tossed the phone back down, cursing the
need to take a piss that had woken me up in the first place.  Reagan was still
sleeping, curled on her side next to me and I didn’t want to leave the warm
sanctuary of her bed. 

But mother nature would not be ignored.   I
quietly got up, threw on my jeans and headed to the bathroom.  I was on my way
back to the bedroom, anxious to perhaps bury myself in Reagan once more before I
left for home, when I passed the kitchen and saw someone standing there in the
dim light.  Brooke. 

 S
hit.

We stared at each other for a moment, before
she shook her head and turned to the Keurig and picked up her mug.  We hadn’t
seen each other much in the week since she’d quit Elite and Reagan and I’d
began our sleepovers.  While we’d spent most of the last week at my place, we
had spent a few nights here.  Of course, Reagan was still insisting on
propriety, and therefore one of us was always waking early to scurry back home
before the rest of the city woke up.  I was growing weary of the subterfuge,
but it was working for now, and I hadn’t put much thought into an alternative. 

Brooke had only been seen once in the last
week, and that was just long enough for her to enter the apartment and make a
beeline straight for her room.  Reagan had said Brooke was no longer openly
hostile about our relationship, but I suspected her embarrassment at having to
face the son of the man she’d been sleeping with, especially now that I officially
knew, was enough for her to keep her distance.

But now, she’d seen me and I’d seen her. 
There was no point in pretending otherwise.  May as well get this over with.

“Good morning, Brooke.”  I broke the silence
and casually entered the kitchen, busying myself with making my own cup of
coffee.

Brooke let out the breath she was holding,
but didn’t turn around.  “Good morning.”

I knew I needed to address the affair with
her, not because I felt it was my business, but because it was time this
tension and awkwardness be done.  She was Reagan’s roommate; it wasn’t as if we
could avoid each other forever.  I slowly walked around toward the table until
I was in her line of view.  “So, I see this going one of two ways:  We can
either continue avoiding each other—which, considering the fact that I find
your roommate’s company utterly fascinating, is going to be problematic—or we
can discuss the obvious and move on.”

She stared at me a moment and then raised an
eyebrow.  “Utterly fascinating?”

I dipped my head.  “Overwhelmingly so.”  I
settled myself onto a chair and leaned back.  “So which is it?”

Brooke’s eyes widened slightly as she took a
sip of her coffee.  She surprised me by walking over and flopping into the
chair across from me.  “Let’s get on with it,” she replied, with a wave of her
hand.

“Well, first, I know why you quit Elite,” I
began.

“I would only be surprised if you didn’t,”
she answered.  “To be honest, I’m actually kinda surprised you didn’t know
before now.”

I had had my suspicions but there was no need
to tell her that.

“I feel terrible, Nathan.  I don’t want it to
be awkward between us either, what with you finding Reagan
so
utterly
fascinating
and all, and I’m sorry.  I just didn’t know what to say to
you.  I mean, it’s your
dad
.”

I held up my hand to stop her .  “Please,
let’s not belabor the point.”  I needed no further reminders of her sleeping
with my father.  “What’s done is done.”

A shadow crossed her face in the dim light,
and it was several seconds before she voiced her next question.  “Do you think
your mom knows?  I mean, about me.”

I frowned.  While I didn’t condone Brooke’s
sleeping with my father while he was still married to my mom, I also knew that
she hadn’t been the first, nor would probably be the last.  Truth was, she was
not the source of their problems, just another result of them.  “I really don’t
know, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that.  My mother has her own. .
.issues.  And I’m sure you weren’t. . . .” I trailed off, unsure how to proceed
without sounding like a complete ass*.

“The first?”  Brooke laughed bitterly.  “I
get it.  I’m sure I wasn’t either.”

I reached over and touched her hand. 
“Brooke, what’s done is done,” I repeated.  “I’m not mad at you, although I do
seriously question your taste in men.”

“He’s your dad,” she replied, as if that was
answer enough.
                “Exactly.”
                She smiled.  “You do have a point.  But he is letting me keep
this place, so I guess there is that.”

I hadn’t been aware that my father—Elite,
most likely—paid for this apartment, but I guess it made sense.  I didn’t find
the idea of Reagan’s living situation left up to my father’s whims appealing,
and made a mental note to change the lease to my name. 

Brooke got up and took her mug to the sink
and rinsed it out before turning back to face me.  “So.  Utterly fascinating,
huh?  What exactly does that mean?” she continued, leaning back against the
counter.

“It means exactly that.  I am completely and
utterly fascinated with everything about her.  So you need to know that I’ll be
around.  All the more reason we needed to have this little chat.”

Brooke nodded, and crossed her arms.  “Don’t
hurt her, okay?  There’s something. . . .I think she’s. . . .just be careful
with her, alright?”

I drained the rest of my coffee.  “Of course,
I wouldn’t hurt her.  I—“

“Good morning, sunshine.”  Brooke’s sudden,
cheery outburst came mere seconds before I felt a presence behind me.  I turned
to find Reagan walking into the kitchen, hair a dark, tangled mess and wearing
my Columbia t-shirt.  My cock twitched at the sight of her.  What was it about
seeing this woman in my clothes that drove me insane?

She yawned behind her hand and perched
herself on my knee, uncertainty in her gaze.  I brushed back her hair and
pressed my lips to the curve of her neck.  “It’s all good,” I whispered.  I
could sense her unease, and knew she was wondering about the exchange between
me and Brooke. 

She nodded, then snagged my mug and took a
sip.  I made a half-hearted protest, but I was more distracted by those long
legs of hers draped over mine, my shirt barely grazing her knees.  I took the
mug from her and set it down.  Whether we had time now or not, I couldn’t wait.
 I needed to feel her against me once more before we left. 

I stood and hauled her up over my shoulder,
smacking her butt when she squealed in protest.  I threw a quick salute to
Brooke, who only rolled her eyes and shook her head, and then I carried Reagan
back to her room and tossed her down on the bed.  She laughed and scooted
backwards, pulling the covers with her as she went. 

“Nathan, we don’t have time,” she protested. 
“You’ve gotta go home first, and you’ll be late.” 

I stuck my head under the covers and began my
ascent, kissing the length of her thigh as I moved up to her stomach.  Her
breath hitched, and my head finally appeared near hers, and my tongue darted out
to taste the dip in her collarbone.  “We have time.”

She giggled and leaned her head back, giving
me more access to her neck.  “Are you sure—“

“We have time.”

Thirty minutes later, I again threw on my
jeans and caught the shirt Reagan tossed at me.  I didn’t have any morning
meetings, but still needed to hurry if I wanted to be at the office by eight. 
Reagan walked about her room, wearing nothing but her panties, chattering on
about random office gossip and I was struck by the odd sense of domesticity to
our current situation.  We were together, in her room, going about the morning
ritual of getting ready for work, and syncing up our schedules so we could meet
for lunch.  Like normal, healthy, committed couples do. 

Like married couples do.

Married.

What the hell?

I watched her lay clothes out on the bed,
gathering items for her shower, still naked from the waist up, and I realized
that the idea of marriage, specifically to this woman, did not scare me as much
as it should have.  And that alone scared me more than I’ve ever been scared in
my life.

“What?”

My gaze refocused on her, and found her
standing by the door holding some silky black robe thing.  “What do you mean,
what?” I asked, pulling on my shirt.

“You’re just standing there staring off into
space.  You okay?”

I was falling for this girl I’d known less
than three months, a girl who I’d learned so much about in that short time, and
yet still knew so little, and the thought terrified me.  Was that okay?

Am I okay?

I didn’t know.

I cleared my throat and walked over to tie
the belt to her robe.  I kissed her nose and smiled at her.  “Of course, I’m
okay.”  I opened the door and turned back to her.  “I’m gonna go, but I’ll see
you later this morning.”

I left her at the bathroom door and headed
into the kitchen, grabbing my keys off the island countertop as I passed by. 
Brooke was on her phone, and smirked up at me as I neared the door.  “I’m gonna
need to invest in some earplugs if the two of you keep this up.”

“I’ll bring you some myself tonight,” I
vowed, still preoccupied with the shit storm of feelings that had decided to
suddenly make their presence known.

She laughed, seemingly unaware of my
inattention, and pushed me out the door.  “Get out of here, Preston.”

Whatever else Brooke said to me as I left the
apartment was lost, and I pulled out into the heavy morning traffic, my
thoughts swirling.  My feelings for Reagan were all too real, and entirely too
strong, and they weren’t going away.  I had to face that fact. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  This wasn’t
me.   I wasn’t that guy who met the girl of his dreams and suddenly became all
domesticated, complete with the white picket fence, two point five kids and
family trips to Disney.  It wasn’t who I was.

So why was I suddenly feeling as if that was
exactly who I am?