“Nah.” Actually, he kind of did want a drink, but it wouldn’t help. He was spewing out his life story like a broken sprinkler head. “The thing is, I wasn’t interested in anybody else. Sheryl and Jordan, that was it. People kept saying I should get out there and date, and I’d try, even try to hook up. But I just couldn’t get there.”
She looked sympathetic without being pitying, and he could’ve hugged her for it. “What happened with Sheryl?”
“That’s a whole long story, and one that will probably require more liquor than my pain meds will allow at this point,” he said, already feeling too vulnerable. He’d shared more with Maggie in the past hour than he had with anyone in the past few decades. “Long story short: We got back together. Almost got married. Then we broke up.”
“I figured.”
“In the interest of full disclosure,” he added, “she’s now married to my younger brother.”
Maggie’s mouth formed a perfect O of surprise. “No. Shit.”
“Swear to God.”
“It’s like a K-drama,” she marveled. “Or a telenovela.”
“Glad my life can provide some entertainment.”
Now she stared at him speculatively. “Both times, the relationship aspect sort of blindsided you?”
He thought about it. Since he’d told so few people, no one had really asked. “Now that you mention it, yes.”
“You were friends first?”
“Yes . . . ?”
“You know,” she said slowly, “it sounds like you’re demi, maybe.”
It was his turn to stare, puzzled. Ace, demi . . . there was a whole world out there he didn’t understand. “I . . . don’t know what that is?”
She reddened. “Again, I am no expert,” she cautioned. “But from what I understand, demisexual people don’t feel sexual attraction until they form, like, an emotional attachment. They’re never going to be love at first sight, and they’re not going to have one-night stands. Where allosexual people might be drawn to people sexually and then build a relationship after that spark, you’d be kind of the opposite.”
He stared at her.
She rolled her eyes. “No sexy fun times until you feel close to someone. And even then, not everybody you get close to. Just some people.”
He felt gobsmacked. “That’s a thing?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Huh. Demi,” he said, testing the word out.
He felt a strange lightness in his chest. He was going to go home and google the shit out of this stuff—asexual, allosexual, demisexual. The idea that there might be an explanation for something he’d always felt like a freak about was eye opening. The thought that he wasn’t alone in it was more comforting than he’d ever realized.
The timer on the oven dinged. “All right. Grub’s on,” she said, like she hadn’t just changed his life with one conversation. She got up, taking the casserole out and putting it on the stove top, putting the oven mitts away. “We’ll give it a few minutes, because it’s currently hotter than . . . ack!”
He’d gotten up and stumbled over to her and hugged her on instinct. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
She reared back, staring at him with her mouth slightly open. “For what?”
“For listening to me. For not judging me,” he said. “For teaching me about this stuff. You have no idea how much you help.”
She grumbled . . . and for a second, leaned against his chest. “S’okay.”
They stood there for a long moment, her head tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her. Her arms tentatively sneaked up to embrace his chest, and he could’ve sworn she sighed. Her hair was soft, and she smelled nice. Like coconut, a bit, and some kind of spice. Between that and the delicious smells of the kitchen, he took a deep breath, snuggling against her.
It felt like home. Or at least, the way he’d always imagined home ought to feel like.
Some part of him felt like he could’ve stood there forever, but she nudged him. “Let me get some bowls,” she said, her voice scratchy. “Go sit down.”
He did as instructed. “How do you know about all this stuff, anyway?”
She looked grumpy for a second, then huffed out a breath. “I read a lot of romance,” she muttered. “All kinds.”
“You?” He stared at her. “You read romance? Really?”
She crossed her arms. “You have something against romance?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, just out of a joyous sense of relief. “It’s just so hopeful of you. That’s awesome. Like you’re less of a grumpy butt than you pretend.” He was delighted with the image of cranky, cantankerous Boggy tucked in with a love story.
It showed she was more of a marshmallow than she let on.
“Shut up,” she growled, but there was a little smile at the quirked corners of her lips. “I’ll show you fucking grumpy.”
He shook his head. She was a very good friend, and he was lucky to have found her.
As she put the dishes in front of them at the table, he looked at her. “And . . . they talk about stuff like this? In romance novels?”
“The ones I read do,” she said, with a firm nod. “You’d be amazed. Anyway, dinner . . .”
CHAPTER 24
OBLIVIOUS TO LOVE
Maggie had her woodstove going and the TV on for background noise. She’d been puttering around her house aimlessly for most of the afternoon. She’d tried to get some work done but had trouble focusing. She’d thought about cleaning, but she’d find herself in a room, unsure of why she’d decided to come in and what she ought to be doing next. It was like brain fog. She wondered if it was menopause, which made her want to growl. Like the hot flashes and irritability weren’t bad enough, there needed to be confusion too? Thanks, body!
But she knew that her current state had less to do with hormonal chemistry, and more to do with Aiden. More than she wanted to credit, if she was honest.
She’d taken him to the doctor that morning, and he’d finally gotten the all clear to lose the air boot. His hairline fracture had healed, and he was now under his own steam. He’d been so happy, his smile broad and genial and so him that she’d found herself staring. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like that, and she found herself drawn to it, like a lizard sunbathing on a hot rock.
She’d dropped him off at his house, and he’d thanked her profusely, which she’d brushed off with embarrassment before fleeing back to her own home. It occurred to her that since Aiden’s injury, she’d spent time with him almost every day. Sometimes to help him get groceries, and sometimes to cook. She’d found herself loading up his freezer, showing him easy meals to make and having him help, although never straining his foot. Afterward, they’d watch something, or eat something together, or sometimes just drink coffee and bullshit together. She’d even brought her laptop to his house, and they’d played Blood Saga together, laughing and smack-talking in real life and real time, without any of the rest of the guild being aware.