Page 28 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
“Why not? The sculptures make good money. I don’t have a lot of things to spend it on. I’d love to hire you.”
“And when we divorce?” I ask, because that’s the big question. The worddivorcerings like a gunshot, stilling even the chirping of birds.
“Are we friends now, Cassidy?”
That question throws me. “I’d like to think so.” I think we are. I think Finn might be the best friend I’ve had outside of G in my entire life, which is kind of sad but nevertheless true. My neighbor who did a kind thing and married me despite barely knowing me, and my baby sister. It sounds even worse the more I think about it.
“Then if we divorce,” he says, voice low and even, “I’d like to think we’ll stay friends. In which case, it wouldn’t be weird at all, right?”
I think that over and have to agree. It’s not like we entered this marriage under false pretenses. We’re both perfectly aware that it will end; there can’t be any hard feelings when it goes exactly as expected, right?
And it’ll be nice to have an excuse to keep seeing him. I don’t think I could go back to grunted hellos every few weeks and nothing else; I’ve become worryingly used to Finn in such a short amount of time.
“Alright,” I say slowly. “I’ll do it. But don’t be mad when I’m not as effective at it as you’d like.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You’ll be fantastic,” he predicts. “Let me know what you need from me.”
I stare at him, kind of overwhelmed by what just happened. Did I get a job? With Finn? That is at least kind of similar to the marketing degree I started and never finished?
He sounds so confident in me, too. Every time Finn talks, I get the feeling that he believes the best in me. He truly thinks I can do this job, even with the incomplete degree and all the years in between. And he’s willing to give it to me even though our relationship isn’t going to last.
If he believes in me that much, then I can’t wimp out. I have to commit. I clear my throat, thinking about what needs to be done. “Will you show me your work?” I ask him, and he grins.
Chapter 14
Finn
She doesn’t quit the market even though she’s started working for me.
I don’t want to make her or even encourage it, not if she doesn’t come up with the idea on her own. Isolating her to our properties and each other is a colossally terrible idea, and just because I want to spend more time with her doesn’t mean I get to keep her.
But still, I thought I was clear enough. I’m offering her a full time job. And while I don’t know what exactly the market pays her, I guarantee I’ll pay her more. And the hours will probably be better, too. I want this to be a good thing for her, a chance to let go of some of the stress she carries.
But if she doesn’t realize that yet, then I can’t make her. It’ll have to happen naturally.
What she does do is take what must be a thousand pictures of the little fox I’m almost finished with, then spend our entire evening movie time on her phone, doing something with social media. I have a website that I never update, and she says she’ll look at that soon. I have a strong suspicion the utilitarian “contact me” form with practically nothing else isn’t going to meet her standards.
And then she goes to work the next day. I drop her off and then have to walk away, even though I don’t want to. I’m more tempted than ever to sayfuck itand ask her to take me on as a full-time project. I want her to come home with me, hang around when I’m working. I’ve never wanted anyone around when I’m working before. I need it to be dead silent—or I thought I did, anyway. Now I think Cassidy’s quiet voice and gentle breathing would be the perfect addition to my workshop.
I make myself kiss her goodbye, remind her we’re going out after I pick her up, and fly home, where I spend the day on edge, somehow already missing her presence when I never really had it. My father gives me a wide berth but knowing eyes, and I do my best to ignore him.
I’m beginning to think that this might ruin me entirely. Yesterday I talked about the divorce, and I’d been unable to saywhen. I don’t think I want it to bewhenwe divorce. I saidif,because she’ll undoubtedly still want one, but I can hold out hope for now.
I’m distracted throughout the day, which is a shame. I wanted to make more progress, thinking it might make Cassidy’s eyes light up in that way I love. But there’s too much going through my mind to let me focus.
I clean up before going to get her, I make sure I scrub my horns clean in the shower, even though I honestly would enjoy the hell out of Cassidy cleaning them up again. But not in front of half the town. If she touches my horns again, we’re going to be alone, and it’s going to mean something.
The thought of her touching my horns—fuck.
My hand drifts down my stomach, a slow, leisurely pace, like I don’t have a clear destination in mind. But eventually I make it to my cock, wrapping my fist around myself and stroking, biting my lip to keep from moaning. I’m in my own apartment’s shower, and no one else is here, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m doing something I shouldn’t.
Thinking about Cassidy like this should be off limits, but I can’t make myself let it go.
I close my eyes, thinking about her stroking my horns. But this time, with intent. Maybe she’s in the shower with me, and it starts with her cleaning them again, but her touch lingers. She’d smirk at me, teasing, fully aware of what she’s doing. And I’d be biting back a moan, like I’m doing right now, driven mad by what she does to me but not wanting to scare her.
And she’d watch me with a heavy look in her eyes, something warm and full of promise. Thinking of it, of her brown, expressiveeyes on me, rips a moan out of my chest. I’m completely at her mercy and she’s not even here—she might never want to be here—but it doesn’t matter. Cassidy ruins me.
My hand moves faster on my cock, letting the shower water and the moisture beading at the tip ease the way. I’m close now, and I thumb the head of my cock, picturing Cassidy’s pretty lips falling open, a tease, something meant to torment me—
