“Like what?” I pressed.
There was a long pause and Sam used the time to inspect his drink as if it held the answers to life’s most profound questions. Finally, he turned to face me. “Irreconcilable differences.” The note of finality ringing in his voice was a clear indication that, as far as he was concerned, the subject was closed, but damn it, a person didn’t hide things like this from their best friend for days without a good reason.
“Why are you being so closed off?” I asked gently, patting the space beside me. “Come on, it’s me. Let me in, Sam.”
He eyed me over the top of his highball glass, took a sip, and then let out a deep sigh. “Fine. If you swear you’ll stop badgering me, I’ll tell you. But remember, you asked.”
He joined me on the couch, keeping a safe distance between us. “There were some issues in the bedroom.”
“I...see,” I said, ignoring the rush of heat that shot to my cheeks.
As close as we were, Sam and I rarely talked about sex outside of bawdy jokes. Our personal sex lives were something we both sort of tacitly tiptoed around. And now, as I was facing his head on, I realized why. Sure, Melanie was nice. But when I thought of her in Sam’s bed, all snuggled up against him, with her naked bits touching his naked bits?
It made me feel all squidgy inside and I didn’t like it one bit.
Another one to file under be careful what you wish for, dummy.
“So, like what kind of problems?” I ventured finally. I’d been the one to open this can of worms and now that I’d finally coerced him into talking, it seemed only polite to make sure he knew if he wanted to keep talking, I was here for him.
“I just wanted to have sex more than she did, that’s all.”
“In a general kind of way or like a crazy four-times-a-day kind of way?”
He stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
“What? It’s a serious question,” I said.
“What do you take me for?” he asked, running his finger around the edge of his glass. “No, I just wanted, I don’t know, a few times a week? Maybe for her to initiate sometimes?”
An image of me standing in Sam’s bedroom doorway in nothing but a trench coat filled my head and I shoved it away ruthlessly.
I swallowed to moisten my suddenly dry throat and nodded. “That sounds nice, actually. And very reasonable.” I patted his arm awkwardly. “Trevor never wants to anymore,” I added.
Why had I even said that? It was true, but Jesus, we’d already crossed one invisible boundary tonight. It was like I was trying to make this as weird as possible for both of us.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room and Sam took another sip of his drink, then set it down on the table next to him.
“Never? I can’t imagine—” he broke off, his voice sounding low and gravelly before he cleared his throat. “Are things okay otherwise?”
“He just isn’t interested for some reason.”
What I didn’t bother to add was that I hardly cared anymore. I had the distinct feeling that tomorrow’s pro list was going to be woefully short.
Sam’s gaze lingered on my face for a long moment and then he turned away. “Well, I’m sure you guys will work it out,” he said, slapping his knees and shooting me a bright, forced smile. “What’s tonight’s movie? To Grandmother’s House We Go?”
I tugged off the coat on my shoulders and tossed it onto the chair across from us as I stood. “Been there, seen that twice already this season. Tonight, it’s Mistle-Tones.”
“No,” Sam groaned.
“Come on, Sammy.” I flicked on the TV and headed into my bedroom, calling back to him over my shoulder. “Can you get it off my Netflix queue while I change?”
I took an extra couple minutes finding my pj’s because I was still feeling weird and unsettled, but by the time I went back out, I’d managed to talk myself down.
We settled in close together, ready to slip back into our more regular, comfortable routine.
Still, as the movie started, I couldn’t help but think of what Sam had said.
If the amount of sex in a relationship was a deal breaker for him, maybe it should be for me, too. I lived a safe and boring life by choice. If I took sex out of the equation too, I might as well just nap for the next sixty years.
That so didn’t work for me.
New top priority for tomorrow?
Find out what was going on inside Trevor’s head so I could decide if a pros and cons list was even worth doing. Because that awkward exchange with my bestie a few minutes ago?
Had been the sexiest thing to happen to me in months.
Not good.
Chapter Two
Sam
It took roughly ten minutes of watching the movie before Maggie curled up in a ball, laid her head in my lap, and went straight to sleep.
Her soft brown curls were splayed across my thigh and I glanced down at her while I nursed my scotch, thinking again about what she’d said earlier.
The idea that she was sex-deprived had instantly sent my brain into overdrive and made my cock twitch with anticipation. Which was why I’d always avoided the topic with her whenever possible. It only made my balls ache and my brain throb with dirty thoughts. Better to steer clear of it altogether with her—and God only knew the last thing I wanted to hear about was what her sex life with Trevor was like.
Fucking Trevor.
I’d never liked the guy, but he’d hung around for years like a vine on a tree that was slowly sucking away its life force. Not that Maggie had changed because of Trevor. She was rock solid. The same awesome person she’d always been and her relationship hadn’t gotten in the way of our friendship. It was just, well, he didn’t make her happy.
Not in the way he should, anyway.
Not the way I could.
Her love of all things Christmas? Trevor hated that. He was a big Halloween guy and refused to acknowledge the season until December twenty-fifth. She wasn’t allowed to watch her Christmas movies around him, either. What was that about? Too much joy in her face for you, Trevor? I’d always wanted to ask him snidely.
But it was more than that. When we were all out together, he was like the fun police, constantly monitoring her. Watching how much she was drinking or giving her a look if she ordered something too heavy off the menu. Maggie took it all in stride, but I noticed. Just like I noticed how he never held the door for her and never got her flowers just because.
It was the little things. And Trevor never paid attention to the little things. But now, if he also wasn’t taking care of business when it came to the bigger things?
That was a serious problem. It was one thing to forget flowers; it was another entirely not to do your damnedest to make sure your woman came until she was hoarse from screaming at least a couple times a week.
Almost as if she could hear my thoughts, Maggie shifted in my lap, opening and closing her full lips in her sleep as she twisted closer to my aching crotch.