Not a Second Chance (7 page)

“Even if my life had been in order, I don’t think it would have changed anything. And I was a twenty-two-year-old student—how much could you expect?”

“That you put a tiny amount of effort into school or thinking about what you’d do afterward.”

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered,” he said. “You were so out of touch with your feelings. All you wanted was a distraction. If I’d been the love of your life, you still wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Not true. And it sure is something to hear this coming from you—you’re the one who’s sworn off relationships. All you ever want now is a distraction.”

He sighed. “I’m too tired to argue. Believe whatever you want.” He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

But Allison lay awake for a long time, not used to the heavy breathing of a sleeping man in her bed.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Sidney rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm clock. Five thirty. Great. Why the hell couldn’t he sleep in? It was the weekend; he didn’t need to be at work by seven.

He spent the next half hour hopelessly trying to fall back to sleep and hopelessly trying not to look at Allison. She was lying on her side, facing him, her black hair spread over the pillow. It was hard not to look at her when she was so gorgeous. And peaceful—unlike when she was awake. If she was awake, she was usually arguing with him.

It hadn’t been like that at the beginning. Although they’d had many spirited discussions and disagreements, they never got pissed off at each other. But somehow, that had changed.

He had no idea when she’d wake up. Back in the day, she used to wake up at a decent time on the weekend, and he was the one who’d sleep in until eleven or twelve. If they were at her place—which they usually were—she would’ve already gotten in a couple hours of studying by then. If they were at his place, she’d just let herself out, unless she had brought books with her.

So he doubted she’d wake up too late. But it was only six—he probably still had a bit of time. Enough time to go to the twenty-four-hour grocery store and buy flour.

Except…they were supposed to spend the
entire
weekend together. Would her friends consider this cheating? He didn’t think they’d care, though—she was sound asleep. He was quite sure Allison wouldn’t consider it cheating anyway, and she could decide what they told Kristy and Maya.

Sidney couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this ridiculous arrangement.

He got out of bed and found Allison’s keys by the door. Before he went out, he decided he’d better check what she had in the fridge. Perhaps he’d need to get eggs as well.

He opened the fridge and saw…nothing. Upon closer inspection, he found mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, and maple syrup. There was also a single carrot and a carton of soy milk at the very back. Hmm. Her cupboards weren’t quite so bare, and her freezer was full.

It had been a long time since he’d poked around in a woman’s kitchen. Usually when he woke up early the morning after, he just left. Unless she woke up early too, and then they’d have sex again before he left.

But Allison was—

He shouldn’t think of Allison Wong as being different. She wasn’t. Except that they’d dated for a while back in school, and they had to spend the whole weekend together. Not that different, really.

* * * *

When he returned with a few bags of groceries, she still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He started the coffeemaker and tried to put everything he’d bought in the right place. Allison drank a lot of coffee—or at least she used to.

By the time she emerged, the coffee was ready, and he was debating where to put the flour and baking powder. Next to the sugar, maybe.

“Good morning.” She rubbed her eyes.

Allison was wearing a large blue bathrobe and her hair was a mess, but she looked pretty good to him. The tie on her bathrobe was just begging to be undone. Maybe they’d actually manage to do it in the kitchen today.

“Hey,” he said.

She glanced around the kitchen. “You went shopping at seven in the morning? You didn’t need to.”

“What else was I going to do? Plus you had no food.”

“I have plenty of food in the freezer.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It’s not food because it’s frozen? I hear there’s an advanced cooking technique called defrosting.”

“So that’s what I missed by not getting two degrees in chemistry.”

The morning was already off to a great start. And it wasn’t even eight.

Allison walked over to the counter and picked up the baking powder. “What’s this for?”

“Pancakes.”

“When am I ever going to use it again?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you could tell me which cupboard you want it in.”
And maybe we could have sex instead of arguing about baking powder.

She pointed to one with a sigh. Her hair stuck up at the back—she was rumpled in a rather appealing way.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Thanks for buying groceries. How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t have to pay me anything. I probably owe you a lot of money for food since I usually stayed at your place when we were dating.”

“That’s true. Your place was a dump. I was nearly too scared to step on the living room floor.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad. I admit it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t so bad that you should have been scared of stepping on the floor.”

“What about the mouse you—”

“That was one time. One mouse. Other than that, it was rodent free.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that.” She threw up her arms, and the bathrobe opened up just a little, exposing more of her skin. “You have no proof.”

“How the hell am I supposed to prove that the house I lived in back in university did not have a mouse problem?” Actually, there had been four mice—or was it five?—but Allison didn’t need to know that.

“I suppose,” she admitted grudgingly.

“But you can see the place I live in now. In fact, you’ll have to see it because I need to go home to put on a different shirt before we see my parents.”

And he wanted to show it to her so she could get this picture of him living in squalid student housing out of her mind. Replace it with a nice, clean place looking over Lake Ontario. He’d always been a messy person until he bought his own place; now he kept to a strict schedule of chores.

Yes, he wanted to show it to her. But not as badly as he wanted to have sex with her.

“Fine. As you wish.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed up her breasts just a little.

“As I wish, eh?”

“Within reason. I don’t like that smirk on your face.”

He put the flour and baking powder away, then turned toward her. She was about to leave the room; he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

“What I wish,” he said, stepping closer, “is to finish what we started in the kitchen when we came back from the bakery. And I think that’s what you want too, but you’re too chicken to say it.”

“I’m not too chicken.”

“Then why didn’t you say what you were thinking?”

“Who said that’s what I was thinking? I’m wearing an enormous bathrobe that covers everything. Does that suggest I’ve got sex on my mind?”

“Yep. It does.” He picked her up, set her on the counter, and untied her robe. As expected, she was wearing nothing underneath. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hardened. “And I’m supposed to believe you weren’t thinking about it.”

“Believe whatever you want.”

“Yeah?”

“For the next ten minutes, sure.”

“Ten minutes?” he said. “Not fifteen? Not thirty?”

“Fine. But no more than that.”

“No?” He slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“I’m hungry. For
food
.” She paused. “Does arguing with me turn you on? It sure seems to.”

Before he could disagree, her mouth was on his, and her hands cupped the back of his head. Arguing did not turn him on. But having her so close, beautiful and disheveled…that was a different matter.

* * * *

Half an hour later, Sidney was cutting up a grapefruit, and Allison was cooking bacon. She turned the bacon over with chopsticks—he remembered her doing this before. In fact, it was one habit he’d picked up from her. Whenever he cooked bacon now, he always used chopsticks, and it always made him think of her. Not like,
OMG! I miss her so much!
No, it just reminded him of Allison, and he didn’t feel anything in particular.

Of course he didn’t. They’d broken up a decade ago.

“I haven’t eaten bacon in a really long time,” she said.

“Because of the calories?”

“Yeah. But I’ve decided calories don’t count this weekend. I mean, I already have to put up with
you
. I shouldn’t have to worry about that, too.”

“I agree. That’s just far too much suffering for one weekend.”

“It really is.”

God, the bacon smelled good. Allison took it out of the pan and put it on a paper towel. She reached for the carton of eggs.

“So you saw my housemates from university,” she said. “What about yours? Are you still friends with them? Do they live in rundown, mouse-infested houses?”

He glared at her, but she was looking at the eggs, cracking them into a bowl.

“Dylan got married three years ago. He has four kids.”

“Four kids in three years? Or did some of those come before he got married?”

“No, they have triplets.” Sidney couldn’t imagine what that was like. “He’s pretty busy. Haven’t seen him in a while. But I saw Travis and Jose a few months ago. They act like they’re still in university.”

“Unlike you.”

“Yes, unlike me.”

“In some ways, I don’t think you’re as different as you claim.”

He got two plates out of the cupboard. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

“I figured as much.”

She adjusted the heat on the stove. “I don’t believe trying to have serious relationships was you pretending to be something you’re not. No, I think
refusing
to have relationships is you pretending to be something you’re not.”

He hadn’t expected her to say something like
that
.

“Is that what you think?” he said. “We didn’t see each other for ten years. Hell, you even refused to be Facebook friends. I don’t know how you can say that when we hardly know each other now.”

“It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” He put some bread in the toaster, then leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms.

But she was sort of right. Having serious relationships back in the day—that wasn’t him faking it. He’d liked it. However, he didn’t see avoiding relationships as not being true to himself or some such bullshit. It was just a smarter life choice.

Allison sighed. “I think we better stop this conversation if we’re going to make it to the end of the weekend.” She stirred the scrambled eggs. “Maybe we should try silence. Or counting to a million.”

“You think we can make it to Sunday evening?”

“Sure. But it’ll be easier if we cut down on the talking. Just shove your tongue down my throat whenever you feel the need to speak.” She looked at the clock. “Damn. We still have ten hours until we meet your parents. Ten hours of just you and me alone.”

And ten years ago, that would have sounded like paradise. Though actually…

Ten hours. That could mean an awful lot of sex. Which was still good. As long as they weren’t interrupted like yesterday.

But they were.

The knock at the door—six quick knocks, in fact—came when Allison was reclined on the couch, arching her back up as Sidney swirled his tongue over her breast.

Damn.
It was like the world was telling her she shouldn’t have sex. But there was nothing wrong with responsible sex, even if it was with her ex-boyfriend. It felt amazing, and it prevented her from stabbing him. So it really was the smart thing to do.

“Again?” he muttered. “Can we ignore it this time?” He ran his finger over her wet nipple.

“No.” She reluctantly slapped his hand away. “It’s my sister.”

“Jo, right?”

“Yeah. She always knocks the same way.”

Allison sat up, fastened her bra, and pulled on her shirt. No buttons on this one. Good. Fewer things she could screw up.

“What do you want me to say?” Sidney asked. “Or should I hide?”

“I…Whatever.” She threw up her hands, exasperated. But not with him. No, with Jo. Like her parents, her sister loved to show up without warning. “Just don’t say anything too stupid. Don’t tell her about the bet, okay?”

“Okay.” He adjusted his shirt. “At least I hadn’t gotten the condom out this time.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for the small things in life.”

She went to the door and pulled it open.

“Hey, Allison.” Jo pushed a stroller inside, nearly running over Allison’s foot. She wore tight jeans, a loose cream shirt, and several long, colorful necklaces. “How’s life? Say hi to your favorite nephew! Actually, don’t. He’s asleep. He always does that as soon as I’m about to leave him. No separation anxiety, that’s for sure.”

“Hi.” Allison sneaked a peek at Dexter, her sleeping one-year-old nephew. Jo had named him after the main character in her favorite TV show. “Did I agree to babysit?”

But Allison knew she hadn’t. The thing was, she’d be happy to look after Dexter once a week if she was asked ahead of time. Jo never called, though. Not one for planning, Allison’s older sister assumed everyone would cater to her whims.

It hadn’t been such a big deal before. However, that changed after Jo got married and Dexter was born. Jo would show up with her son and expect Allison to look after him for a few hours while she went shopping or got her hair done or had a manicure. No matter what Allison told her about having advance notice, it didn’t matter.

“Sorry,” Jo said carelessly. “Last-minute shopping trip with the girls. You know how it is. I really need the break.”

And Allison understood that. But it took Jo half an hour to get down here. Couldn’t she at least have called before she left the house? And asked, rather than just assuming Allison was free?