I sit up and force a shrug so big my shoulders almost touch my earlobes. I drop my arms and say, “Fine. Great. What would I have to complain about?”
Honestly, what could I complain about? I’m getting laid on the regular by a woman who is so sexy I can’t think of anything else. Whether she’s across the hall working, or having dinner with her brother, she’s rarely not on my mind. I almost invited her tonight, but Manuel beat me to the ask. I hope he’s not there to break difficult news, like his girlfriend is pregnant or he wants to move back home. Cris is just now learning who she is without taking care of her brothers full-time.
“It’s not that you should have something to complain about,” Vivian tells me, her eyes turned up to the starry night sky. “I was curious if you had any sort of epiphany about you and Cris.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s saying.
“You. And Cris. Together.” Her eyebrows climb her forehead.
“How would you have felt if I sat you down and asked you to describe your feelings for Nate when you two were first together?”
She rears back and frowns. “That’s different. I didn’t know you back then. You wouldn’t have sat me down and talked to me about anything. You were too busy trying to make me feel at home, which is its own form of meddling, by the way.” She pats my hand to soften the blow.
I exhale through my nose. “I can understand how Cris’s…circumstance makes you concerned, but we very carefully crossed that bridge.”
“And she enjoyed the crossing?” Viv’s chin dips, her eyes widening meaningfully.
“Immensely,” I say, but that’s all she’s squeezing out of me. “I’m doing my damnedest to teach her everything I know.”
“Well, let’s hope not everything. I’d rather not see her serial date men the way you serial date women.”
This again? Jee-zus.
“There’s nothing wrong with serial dating as long as it’s mutual,” I defend, feeling prickly. But it’s not my own reputation I’m thinking about. It’s the idea of Cris with another guy. Dating. Kissing. Her stripping for him and letting him sink deep inside her while she’s making those panting noises I’ve grown so fond of. I grind my back teeth to dust to keep from admitting the jealousy kicking up around me like sand in a dust storm.
“Are you planning on serial dating again?“
I make a sound between an offended grunt and a disgusted laugh. “Not right now.”
“But eventually.”
“Look, even if—when—Cris and I wrap this up, it’s not like I’m not going to be in her life.” As I explain, my chest constricts. I have been trying not to think of the future, but it’s hard when Vivian keeps bringing it up.
After Cris and I finish our sexual quest, then what? I assume she’ll keep working for me. She’d better. But what happens when she inevitably lands a boyfriend? Some guy who’s decent to her, albeit far less smooth and charming than me. Am I going to have to listen to her talk about him during our runs? Will she still go running with me after moving on?
An ache forms between my eyebrows, and I realize I’m frowning hard enough to pull a muscle.
Like she reads my mind, Vivian presses, “How are you going to feel when she starts seeing someone else? Or when she falls in love? Or when she gets engaged?” She wiggles her left hand at me. The diamonds sparkle in the flood of moonlight painting the house lunar blue.
I stand, frustrated and more than ready for a cigar with my dad and brothers, if only to escape Vivian’s interrogation.
“Benji.” She stands too, nowhere near giving up.
“Fuck, Viv, I don’t know!” I try not to shout too loudly. Her fiancé’s the protective sort. He’d have no problem pummeling me for merely raising my voice at her. “I guess I’ll be happy for her,” I lie through my teeth. I force a smile to sell what I’m about to say, ignoring Vivian’s suspicious glare. “And when she invites me to be part of the wedding party, I’ll say yes.” I touch her shoulder. “I know you’re gunning for maid of honor, so I’ll settle for walking her down the aisle.”
My heart clenches at the picture I’ve painted. The visual of a faceless groom at the end of the aisle looms like a bad omen. In my vision, my steps falter, my hand over Cris’s squeezing to warn her, but she’s too in love with her future husband to pay attention to me.
Damn, that’s dark.
“And you would be totally okay with that?”
“Of course! She’s my best friend. I want her to be happy forever.”
“What about you?” she asks so sincerely, I’m thrown. What about me? No one ever asks about me. I take efforts to prevent anyone from worrying about me. And since old habits die hard, this one in particular resurrects itself like Lazarus.
“I’m already happy. I couldn’t be happier. Look around.” I gesture at the utopia that is our parents’ property. “I was raised here. Happy Central. You’ve seen my house. You’ve seen my car. You haven’t seen my bank account, but you’ve seen Nate’s. I don’t want for anything, Viv. Are you honestly worried about me, or are you dancing around something else you’re hesitant to admit?”
Like Cris deserves better. Or that she deserves more from me. Or I should let her go, so she can find that bad-omen husband and let things unfold the way they’re supposed to.
I lick my lower lip, fold my arms over my chest, and brace for hearing any or all of that.
Vivian is uncharacteristically silent. She fiddles with her ring, as if debating saying what’s on her mind. Miraculously, she doesn’t say more on the topic of Cris or me. She employs the tactic I’ve used often and to great success. She gives me a dazzling smile and backtracks.
“I didn’t mean to pry. I wanted to make sure you were good.” She cups my arm and rubs a few times. “I’m glad to hear you have it all figured out.”
I tell myself I’m satisfied she stopped prying, but when she turns and walks away, I’m irked that she gave in so easily.
Also, is it me or did that bit about her being glad I had it all figured out sound a tad sarcastic?