Good at Being Alive(71)
And now we’re staring at each other and any second now, Lars or Paula is going to ask what the hell is happening. I need to say something and my mind is entirely devoid of topics that aren’t her.
“Though they did have parties,” she continues, her gaze awkwardly darting away. “They found one of the chambers had been turned into a movie theater. Screen, projector. It even had a restaurant.”
Bex is carrying this entire shoot single-handedly while I’m thinking about her mouth wrapped around my cock.
I unlock my jaw by force. “It seems like that would be difficult to get away with.”
She shakes her head. “It’s harder to catch people than you think. There are two hundred miles of tunnels to comb through. A hospital worker got lost down here once, and it took them eleven years to find him.”
I’d like to pull her into one of those secret rooms. I want to hear that gasp of hers again, the one she made when I first slid my tongue inside her. I want to pull her into one of those secret rooms and fuck her so hard that she’d—
Bloody hell. I’m surrounded by six million skeletons, and all I can think about is how badly I want to fuck my wife.
And that’s exactly how I knew it would be.
I’m a man who was thirsting for something. It took one drop to make me realize I’m parched, to make me want it to the exclusion of all else. We have to walk this back, and I have no clue how to do it.
I’ve known all along this was quicksand. And last night, I dove in headfirst.
Bex
The guilt is eating him alive. I should find one of those secret rooms and tell him it’s okay, explain to him that this really is my fault and he doesn’t need to worry because I know he’s with someone else. I’d turn it into a joke if I could find a single thing about this amusing. If I could stop forgetting for one goddamned second the things he said last night. The way his gaze fell to my mouth as he said, “You’ve made me come so many times I’ve lost count.”
What I really want to do is ask him why he can’t care about me enough to do it again. I know I’m not the sort of girl he grew up around. I picture his complication—probably some duke’s daughter who moonlights as a part-time model. She’s nearly his height in heels and they look like they belong together. She doesn’t mispronounce French foods and always has the perfect hostess gift when he brings her to a party.
But…couldn’t I be enough anyway? Don’t we get along so very well that he might look past my failures for another week, another month?
No. Apparently not.
It’s unbearably hot when we climb out of the cool, damp catacombs. The street is thick with tourists. I prefer the home of the dead, which is exactly what Jessie would expect of me.
Paula shoots a concerned look at me and Theo. We’re supposed to walk through a market next, but based on her whispered conversation with Lars, I suspect she’s worried we’re not going to make it. My hangover is behind me, but Theo and I have a mountain of other issues right now, and they’ve rendered us mute.
I lean against a tree in the shade—it’s a thousand degrees here, shade or not—and scroll through my notifications.
Brian has texted, but that’s not the thing that has me unlocking my phone.
Theo tagged me on Instagram last night.
Theo, who abhors social media and is also terrible at it, posted a picture of me in my fancy dress, talking to the girl behind the counter at Five Guys. The caption reads “When your beautiful wife wants Five Guys in Paris, you say yes.” My heart does that fluttery thing again. Maybe I’ve got some kind of heart defect I was previously unaware of. Or maybe I like him. Maybe I like him so much that the thought of not winding up with him in real life makes me ache.
I hope it’s a heart defect. At least there might be a solution for that.
“You guys go to the market,” says Caden, winking at the rest of the crew. “Bex and I are gonna go downstairs and find one of those secret rooms. Any footage will be private, however.”
He reaches for my arm as if he’s going to pull me back into the catacombs and Theo’s hand shoots out fast, locking on Caden’s in an iron grip.
“What the fuck did you just say about my wife?” Theo asks.
Ah, there it is again, that warmth when he says “my wife.” It will be my fatal flaw, the warmth, the flutter. Because it’s one thing to crave sex with Theo—I’m struggling to imagine who wouldn’t—but the warmth warns me that this is more than lust. It’s fondness—it’s infatuation. Maybe it’s for the best that he shut this down, because those are the kinds of feelings that will fuck you up. How do you allow yourself to feel that much for someone and remain standing when he hasn’t chosen you? It was barely a day ago that I was nearly in tears over the fact that he didn’t want me out with him and Peter. How much worse would it hurt if I let myself fall for him only to discover I am still not what he wants?
Caden smirks. “Fuck off, dude. She’s not actually your wife, even if you wish she was.”
Theo shoves him. “She’s not your bloody wife either, so watch your mouth.”
“Theo, back off,” barks Paula. “And Caden, keep your damn mouth shut.”
Two of the guys step between them and Paula pulls me and Theo aside. “Look, I’ve talked to Lars. We’re going to skip the market—it’s too crowded anyway. We’ll go ahead and get the boat ride out of the way, and then you’ll be free, but I need the two of you to get your shit together in the meantime.”