I let go of Sutton’s squishy face. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted or what to do about it. And even though Daniella had said everything was cool, I’d heard the edge of frustration in her voice. She’d really been hoping for some relief tonight. She downplayed her disappointment, trying not to make it my problem, because she wasn’t the manipulative type—but I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. And I couldn’t help but feel kind of shitty about disappointing her.
It was as though she sensed that, as my feelings for Lacey grew, my connection to her was fading—and that made Daniella want to cling to me even harder. I didn’t blame her. The idea that Lacey could represent the end of life as we knew it . . . that terrified me too. Daniella and I had been each other’s security blanket for so long, and change was scary, even when it might lead to something good.
I stood up. Enough of this bullshit. I needed to get off my ass and do something productive, and if that something was just to consume a fuck of a lot of whiskey, so be it. I needed advice too, and Daniella wasn’t the right person to ask. I also wanted to get out of the house to avoid the guilt trip I was sure was coming later.
I pulled out my phone and texted Greyson: You home yet? Want to get a drink at West’s?
When Greyson replied, Sure, I’m not doing anything tonight, I clipped Sutton’s leash onto his collar and went out. We should take advantage of the warm, breezy weather while it lasted, before the evenings got chilly.
I walked the few blocks to West’s, found a free table on the back patio, and tied Sutton to its umbrella pole. I ordered whiskey on the rocks for me and a bowl of water, which I set on the ground for Sutton. Greyson arrived a few minutes later, grunting a low “hey,” and ordered a beer.
After a few minutes of sipping our drinks in silence, I put down my tumbler. “I was hoping I could ask you something.”
“Really? And here I was, thinking we were just out on a nice date.” Greyson rested his chin on his fist. “I guess that means I’m paying for my own drinks tonight.”
“Screw you,” I replied without heat. “It’s about Lacey.”
Greyson sat back and raised his glass to his lips again, nodding in a silent go on.
I stared into my amber drink. “She’s all I think about, man. I want to see her all the time, make her smile. It’s making me wonder . . .” I let myself trail off because I sounded like a Grade-A pussy.
“Wonder what?”
I threw up one hand in exasperation. “That’s it, man. I don’t fucking know. Wonder about my life. Whether I’m going in the right direction.”
“So, what you’re saying is, you like her.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I generally don’t fuck women I hate.” Actually, I hadn’t fucked Lacey at all. We hadn’t gone that far yet. But somehow, I felt more from one of Lacey’s touches than I’d let myself feel in a very long time.
“I meant that things are starting to get real.” Greyson raised his eyebrows for emphasis.
“That . . . no. What? No way.” I huffed a little laugh that didn’t sound convincing, even to me. “You know me, right? The guy who’s never had a girlfriend for longer than a few months?”
“Yeah, I do know you. And that’s how I can tell what’s going on here.” Greyson flashed a smug grin that I immediately wanted to slap right off his face. The dipshit. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. And Daniella says you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been gossiping with my roommate? Are you a woman?”
“Shut up and listen. It’s obvious to everyone but you that you have feelings for Lacey.”
“It’s not—”
“Have you even wanted to fuck another woman since you started dating her?”
Giving up, I rubbed my forehead. Grey didn’t need to know how close to the truth he was. I’d been putting off Daniella’s advances for the past couple of weeks now, ever since Lacey had arrived in my life.
Despite what I already shared with Daniella, I couldn’t deny that I needed something more. Something more primitive. The kind of intimacy shared between two willing lovers. No ropes. No toys. Just two bodies fucking wildly. Moving together.
Was it selfish? Probably.
“Okay. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. What should I do?”
“Sorry, man. I’m just here to shine a light on your shit. I can’t tell you how to handle it.”
“Well, what would you do?”
Greyson’s smirk slipped. “We’re not talking about me here,” he said, his voice a little icy. Then he quickly joked, “I’d fuck it up like always. But this is you. Whole different ball game.”
“Obviously. But can’t you just—” I stopped, at a loss for words again. I was getting tired of this confusion. “Give me something to go on here?”
“Hmm, I dunno.” Greyson picked up his glass again and took a sip. “I guess the main question is, do you want to get serious with Lacey?”
“But what does ‘serious’ even mean?” I snorted. “I’m not getting married, if that’s what—”
“Did I fucking say that? Christ.” Greyson gave me a look. “There’s plenty of room between ‘no strings attached’ and ‘buried together.’ Maybe you meet her parents. Maybe she moves in with you. Maybe you just set up a standing date every Friday night.” Greyson waved to indicate a wide world of commitment possibilities. “Just pick a step beyond where you are now and try imagining it. Do you like the picture you get? Then walk toward that future.”