Page 77 of Hot Mess
“And what if I want to put in a St. Andrews cross and a swing?” he said.
I swallowed again, loudly.
What…?
“Are those… sex things?”
“They are,” he said, and when I looked at him again, he was looking at my mouth. “But I was kidding. The new bed will do.” Then he smirked, just a little.
Because he sensed my discomfort, didn’t he?
Was this fun for him? Flirting and watching me squirm…?
“Uh, look…” I said, just barely clinging to my professionalism. Right now, it was my life preserver. Without it, I’d already be drowning in his blue eyes and very possibly begging him to take off his pants. “I should probably be happy that you seem to want the works here. But honestly, beds aren’t cheap. Are you sure you want a whole new king-size bed? The one you have is perfectly fine.”
“Honestly?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “My last serious relationship was a three-way relationship. We had a lot of sex in that bed. I fell in love with both of them, and they fell in love with each other. Then they broke up with me. Still think I should keep the bed?”
Holy shit.
“Um, no. I think I should help you torch it in the back alley.”
He smiled.
Andoh my God…
I realized, as he smiled, that it was the first time he’d ever truly smiled at me.
Too. Gorgeous.
I looked away.
I had so many questions whirling through my head.
Was he trying to intimidate me, telling me about this three-way relationship? Trying to scare me away again?
Or was he just being straight with me? Honest?
And when was this three-way relationship? Did this have anything to do with the bras I’d seen in his room…?
“Um… were you serious about wanting three bedside tables?”
“I don’t know.”
When he didn’t go on, I met his eyes again.
“What would you recommend?” he asked, holding my gaze… And it definitely felt like he was asking me about a lot more than bedside tables.
If so, it wouldn’t be the first time a client had asked me to weigh in on his or her personal life.
When I went into peoples’ homes, into their bedrooms, it was often because they were rebuilding their lives. Making changes. Starting over, even. And that usually didn’t begin with new lamps and a bedspread. It began with more personal changes.
Changes in relationships were often a part of that.
I’d often found myself in the role of amateur therapist in my clients’ lives. Listening to relationship woes. Offering my humble opinions. Championing the changes they were undertaking.
