I finished loading the dishwasher while Carolyn blew out all the candles and collected the linens. “Can I help you do the rest by hand?” she asked, pushing up her sleeves.
“No. You’ve done enough. I’m too tired to do them tonight, anyway. I’ll do them tomorrow.” It was a lie, I’d never go to sleep with the sink full of dirty dishes, but I couldn’t take any more pretending tonight. I was half drunk, totally frustrated, seriously angry, and I wanted to be alone so I could hate myself in peace. (And probably jerk off while I did it.) “Are you sure?” She bit her lip, clearly disappointed. “I really don’t mind staying.” Slipping her hands around my waist, she rose up on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. “I don’t have to be home by eleven. Or anytime tonight at all.”
I laughed uncomfortably and disengaged her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m just really tired.”
“Oh.” Her face fell, and I felt horrible.
You’re such a fuck-up. This is the second night in a row you have to make excuses for yourself. She’s not going to wait around forever, asshole. She deserves better.
“Can I walk you to your car?” I asked.
She nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my purse.”
Maxim came in the front door as we were going out. “I’m walking Carolyn to her car,” I said, avoiding eye contact with him.
He nodded and held out his hand. “It was so nice to meet you, Carolyn.”
“Same.” She shook his hand and smiled brightly. “I hope to see you again.”
“You can go up to bed, Maxim. I’ll clean up tomorrow.” Without giving him a chance to argue, I guided Carolyn out the front door and yanked it shut behind us. Guilt had me taking her hand as I led her down the porch steps and front walk.
“I had a great time tonight,” she said. “I loved meeting your sister and your friends.”
“I’m glad.”
“And Maxim is so interesting. It’s so nice what you’re doing for him.”
“It’s nothing.”
When we reached her Audi, she let go of my hand and took out her keys. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stuck my hands in my pockets.
“Derek,” she said, and I could hear the puzzle in her voice, “is everything going okay for you? With us, I mean?”
“Of course it is.” I lied, but I lied for her sake. Okay, for both our sakes. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings with words that wouldn’t make sense to her, and I didn’t want to give up on myself yet. I could still beat whatever this was inside me. I knew I could. But not tonight. “I’m just tired.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound sure of it. “I just want to make sure. Sometimes tonight it seemed like it was, but other times, it felt off. And I’m not rushing you or anything. I just don’t want to waste your time—or mine. If this isn’t going anywhere, I want to know.”
“I understand,” I said quietly. Closing my eyes, I exhaled and offered her something closer to the truth. “I’m going through something right now, and I feel a little off. I get like this sometimes. Where I don’t feel like myself.”
“Is it…depression?” she asked tentatively.
“No. I don’t think so. It’s more like…anxiety or something. I get anxious about things and have to work them out before I can move on.”
“Oh.” She smiled hopefully. “Can I help you in any way?”
“You’re sweet, but no. It’s something I have to do on my own.”
“What do you do?” she asked, then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay. There’s no magic bullet or anything. I just try to step back and give it time. Make sure my priorities are straight. Re-evaluate my goals in life. Remind myself what’s important.”
“I think everybody should step back and do that sometime. Myself included.”
“I can give you some space if you need it.”
“No. That’s okay. I’ve thought about you a lot, Derek. And I’ve thought about what I want in a relationship a lot. I really like you, but I’m looking for a commitment. Not a ring or anything, but a commitment. Because that’s what would make me happy, and I deserve to be happy.” She smiled. “It took me three years of therapy to say that. How’d I do?”
I smiled, although I felt horrible inside. “Great. And it’s true. You deserve to be happy.”
She grinned. “Thank you. It made me happy when you held my hand tonight at the table.”
“Good.” Jesus fuck, I was a dick. “Night.”
“Night.” She got into her car, and I watched her drive away before turning around and trudging up the sidewalk toward home. I felt like shit. I felt like a failure. I felt like everything I had planned for my life was slipping through my grasp, and it was my own fucking fault. I couldn’t even blame Maxim. I was struggling with myself long before I’d ever laid eyes on him. Being around him just made it worse.
You’d better be upstairs already, Maxim. You’d better be out of sight, asleep, behind a closed door. I can’t fight myself anymore tonight.
I let myself into the house and locked the door behind me. Right away I heard the clank of dishes and the kitchen sink running. Fuck, he’s still down here. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and tried to put the mask back on before walking back to the kitchen.
As soon as I saw him, it started to slip.
He was at the sink, washing the remaining dishes. I went straight for the whiskey bottle and threw back a shot. “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed?”
“You did, but I knew you weren’t really going to go to bed without cleaning up.”
“Oh yeah? How’d you know that?” I tossed back a couple more fingers, taking solace in the fiery warmth pouring down my throat, spreading through my chest.
“Because I know you.”
“After only one day?”
“In your case, some things were obvious right from the start.”
“You’re just like the rest of them,” I grumbled. “Did you hear how they make fun of me?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand why. When you have a house as beautiful as this one, why wouldn’t you take care of it?”
“Thank you!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. I nearly knocked the whiskey bottle over too. “Finally, somebody fucking gets it.”
Figuring I’d had enough booze to blunt his effect on me, I rolled up the sleeves of my black button-down shirt and moved next to him. “I’ll help you.”
“Okay.”
I caught him trying to not to look at my wrists and forearms, and it made me smile. How does it feel to want someone and have to hide it? “You wash, I’ll dry?”
“Sounds good.”
We worked in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and I found myself increasingly—and disturbingly—pleased at the thought of him being attracted to me and being forced to conceal it. It was fucking horrible of me to take pleasure in his discomfort, but I liked being secretly wanted. Being illicitly desired. Being the object of his covert glances and maybe even his darkest, dirtiest thoughts. I let our arms touch more than necessary, as thrilled by the physical contact as I was by the thought of what it might be doing to him.
For there is no man who does not sin.