Graham closes his eyes for a few seconds, then presses his forehead against mine. After releasing a quick sigh, he pushes himself off me, almost as if he had to force his eyes shut in order to separate us. He helps me up and I look for my panties while he disposes of the condom and zips up his jeans.
It’s quiet while I dress. We don’t look at each other. He picks up the empty condom wrapper from the floor and tosses it into the trash can beside his bed.
Now we’re facing each other. My arms are crossed over my chest and he’s looking at me like he isn’t sure if the last fifteen minutes actually happened. I’m looking at him like I wish it could happen again.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he just gives his head a quick shake and steps forward, grabs my face and kisses me again. It’s a rough kiss, like he isn’t finished with me. I kiss him back with just as much intensity. After a minute of the kiss, he starts to walk me backward toward the stairs. We break for air and he just laughs, pressing his lips into my hair.
We make it up two steps before I realize I haven’t looked in a mirror. I just had sex with this man and I’m about to have to go smile at his parents. I frantically comb my fingers through my hair and straighten out my dress. “How do I look?”
Graham smiles. “Like you just had sex.”
I try to shove him in the chest, but he’s faster than me. He grabs my hands and turns us until my back is against the wall of the stairwell. He straightens out a few strands of hair and then wipes his thumbs under my eyes. “There,” he says. “You look beautiful. And innocent, like you just took a typical tour of the house.” He kisses me again and I know he probably means for it to be short and sweet, but I grab his head and pull him closer. I can’t get enough of the taste of him. I just want to be back at my apartment, in my bed with him, kissing him. I don’t want to have to go upstairs and pretend I want pie when all I want is Graham.
“Quinn,” he whispers, grabbing my wrists and pushing them against the wall. “How fast do you think you can eat a slice of pie?”
It’s good to know our priorities are aligned. “Pretty damn fast.”
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Now
Despite all the Thursday nights that Graham has returned home smelling like beer, I’ve never actually seen him drunk. I think he chooses not to drink more than one or two beers at a time because he’s still so full of guilt over losing his best friend, Tanner, all those years ago. The feeling of being drunk probably reminds him of his devastation. Much like how sex reminds me of my devastation.
I wonder what he’s devastated about tonight?
This is the first time he’s ever had to be escorted home by a coworker on a Thursday night. I watch from the window as Graham stumbles toward the front door, one arm thrown haphazardly around a guy who is struggling to get him to the house.
I move to the front door and unlock it. As soon as I open it, Graham looks up and smiles widely at me. “Quinn!”
He waves toward me; turning his head to the guy he’s with. “Quinn, this is my good friend Morris. He’s my good friend.”
Morris nods apologetically.
“Thanks for getting him home,” I say. I reach out and pull Graham from him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Where is his car?”
Morris throws a thumb over his shoulder, just as Graham’s car pulls into the driveway. Another of Graham’s coworkers steps out of the car. I recognize him from Graham’s office. I think his name is Bradley.
Bradley walks toward the front door while Graham puts both arms around me, placing even more of his weight on me. Bradley hands me the keys and laughs.
“First time we could get him to drink more than two,” he says, nudging his head toward Graham. “He’s good at a lot of things, but the man can’t hold his alcohol.”
Morris laughs. “Lightweight.” They both wave goodbye and walk toward Morris’s car. I step into the house with Graham and close the front door.
“I was gonna take a cab,” Graham mutters. He releases me and walks toward the living room, falling onto the sofa. I would laugh and find this humorous if I weren’t so worried that the reason he decided to drink too much tonight might have something to do with how upset he was after holding his new nephew. Or maybe it’s his feelings about our marriage as a whole that he wanted to numb for a while.
I walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When I take it back to him in the living room, he’s sitting up on the couch. I hand him the water, noticing how different his eyes look. He’s smiling at me as he takes a sip. He hasn’t looked this happy or content in a very long time. Seeing him drunk makes me realize just how sad he looks now when he’s sober. I didn’t notice his sadness consumed him even more than it used to. I probably didn’t notice because sadness is like a spiderweb. You don’t see it until you’re caught up in it, and then you have to claw at yourself to try to break free.