“No! Not in the least.” Actually, I felt relieved. More relieved than I’d expected to feel. Now I didn’t have to feel guilty about anything I’d done behind Weston’s back. Not that I had felt guilty. “We didn’t have an arrangement between us. I didn’t expect anything from you.” Hint, hint—he shouldn’t have expected anything from me either.
“I know, but we were in a closet together.” He moved his stapler from the corner of his desk to the center. “And I know I was acting weird that night, but it wasn’t you.” He pushed the stapler several times, shooting out a bunch of wasted staples. “It was because I was all wrapped up with her, and this bullshit that’s going on between her and me.” After fiddling for another few seconds, he returned the stapler to its original position.
I studied Weston. He did seem to be in a better mood than he’d been on Friday morning, and more on edge at the same time. His eyes lit up when he talked about Elizabeth, and his body seemed tense, but it was strained with electric energy, the kind of energy that came from feeling out of sorts in a new relationship.
The kind of energy that came from falling in love.
“So you and Elizabeth…?” I asked tentatively.
“No. God, no.” He flipped a pen back and forth between his fingers. “I mean. I don’t know. It’s complicated. Anyway.”
It’s complicated meant more than a fling.
The nervous tap of my foot was back, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why.
I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “What does this mean for the pool? I had good money on you holding out.”
The pen stopped spinning abruptly. “You placed a bet too?”
I shrugged, trying to be elusive, but he seemed too affronted for me to carry the teasing any longer than that. “I’m joking. Any bet I would have placed seemed to be against my better interest.”
He dropped the pen and put both palms flat on the desk. “But you’re really okay with this situation?”
I smiled reassuringly. “I am.” My conscience, which had been niggling at me since he’d made his confession, took that moment to get the better of me. “Actually, I slept with someone this weekend too.” I paused to take a breath and decided I wasn’t obligated to say more.
But I also decided I wasn’t a dick. “I slept with Donovan.”
The air between us thickened, and Weston squinted at me for a beat too long.
“Uh. Say something?” I prodded, suddenly concerned that I shouldn’t have been so honest.
“I’m trying to decide if I’m jealous or if this relieves me of my guilt.”
I reached across the desk and playfully punched his lower arm. “It relieves you of your guilt. Jerk.”
He nodded. “Donovan, huh?” He inhaled. Nodded again. “I have to admit—I didn’t see that coming.”
So we were both stunned by the weekend’s developments.
“Is this a bad thing? Should I have not told you?” I wasn’t friends with Elizabeth. Maybe this was harder for Weston because of his relationship with Donovan.
“No, no! I’m glad you told me. It’s just…weird.” Immediately he realized his error in wording. “I don’t mean it’s weird because of you. It’s weird because of him. He hasn’t been with anyone that I’ve been on a first-name basis with since Amanda.”
That was impossible. Donovan’s fiancée Amanda died eleven years ago. Surely he’d had relationships since then. “What about Sun?”
“That model?” Weston brushed his hand dismissively in the air. “I guess he sleeps with her now and then. He sleeps with a lot of women now and then, but I’m telling you, Sabrina, he doesn’t sleep with anyone that he has any interaction with outside the bedroom.”
“Oh. That is weird.” Goose bumps shimmied down my arms. What did that mean about me?
Nothing, probably. We worked together, but it wasn’t like we saw each other that much around the office.
Still, something warm burrowed into my chest insisting I was different. Insisting that this implied I was special. Special to Donovan in some way.
Yes, Sabrina, you have the distinct honor of being a sex partner that Donovan has also seen with clothes on. Congratulations.
Right. I was being ridiculous.
But maybe this explained why Donovan was such a dick when he’d left my place. Maybe that’s how he always left women’s beds. Since he usually didn’t see them again anyway, he had no reason to act differently.
“Although it’s weird, this could be good.” Weston started nodding again. “Yes. I think this is really good. You’re the perfect woman to show him what romantic relationships are supposed to be like. You could domesticate him. Show him how to love again.”
I burst out laughing. “There are so many things funny about that statement, I don’t know what to laugh at first.” Like, who was Weston to talk about relationships? Was he suddenly an expert because he’d banged his fake fiancée?
And even more hysterical—a romance between Donovan and me? Show him how to love? Ha. Ha. Ha.
“I’m serious,” Weston said excitedly, seeming to have warmed up completely to the idea of our coupledom. “You’re right for him. You’re already in his world. You won’t take his bullshit. I already approve of you, which is essential. The whole thing is brilliant. I should have thought of this before.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. In between making your own moves on me, it totally should have crossed your mind.” The whole thing was insane. “It’s not happening. That’s not where this thing with Donovan is going.”
Weston stared at me skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. With a capital P.”
“Okay, okay.” He didn’t appear entirely convinced. “Wanna talk about it at least?”
I brushed a loose piece of hair behind my ear and considered. It might be nice to have some insight on Donovan. But I didn’t necessarily know if it was fair to ask about him when I hadn’t tried hard enough to get insight from the guy on my own.
And what did it matter since Donovan and I were a done deal? “I don’t,” I said. “If that’s okay.”
Weston wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “Just a one-night thing, then?”
“Just a one-night thing.” Why did it make my stomach knot so tightly to say that?
“Fine, fine.” Weston narrowed his eyes. “Even just a one-night stand, he better have treated you right.”
Again, I laughed out loud. “Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll have to kill him.” The wink he gave as he made the declaration sort of ruined its power, but it was a nice gesture all the same.
“Yeah, I totally believe you’d kill Donovan,” I said sarcastically. “Glad to know you got my back.”
I didn’t need Weston to take care of Donovan or any of the men I dated, but what the heck was going on? Was he treating me like a sister? Was that what happened when ex-lovers became coworkers and found other lovers?
After I left Weston’s office, I was halfway down the hall toward my own when it hit me—if Weston was involved in more than just a fling, then that meant he would no longer be available to be my fallback guy. No longer my safety net.
I didn’t want Weston. I’d never wanted Weston. The most attractive thing about Weston was that I’d believed he could keep me from Donovan. That he could keep me a “good girl”, safe and content without the urge for dirty, kinky filth.
It hadn’t been a very good plan anyway because somehow I’d still ended up naked with the wrong guy.