“Have you been in love with a woman?”
I hesitated, knowing Ree was listening. “I loved my most recent girlfriend a lot. I just couldn’t love her in a forever kind of way.” Sure enough, a text notification from Riana flashed at the top of my screen with an emoji heart.
“Perhaps you don’t see gender when you begin to connect to another person, and what attracts you is their kindness, their personality traits. Some identify that as being pansexual. It could very well be that this man calls to you on a deeper level.”
“I don’t think so.” I felt detached from his conclusions. None of what he said hit home, and I couldn’t relate to any of it.
“And why’s that?” he prodded.
“Because this guy is a prick.”
Chapter Twelve
Ricky
I made my way toward the Puglias’ with the memory of what I’d heard last night still haunting me.
It wasn’t uncommon for me to tune in to Dr. Lair whenever I was in Fort Lauderdale. I found listening to other people’s problems made me feel better about my own… not that I had many. I lived a charmed life, and except for being lonely, I had no reason to complain.
But when I tapped on the Galaxy app and heard a caller that Dr. Lair referred to as Confused in Jersey speak, the toothbrush in my hand landed in the sink with a clatter
It was him.
That was Cooper’s voice.
“Let me ask you this. What is it about him that intrigued you to kiss him?”
“I was drunk.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Cooper,” I grumbled toward my phone.
“That may account for the impulsive decision to kiss him, but you obviously sobered up eventually and claim you are still thinking about that kiss.”
“Ha!”
“Let’s focus on that.”
His pathetic response was, “I’m not gay.”
I rolled my eyes just as Dr. Lair chuckled before saying, “I didn’t ask you if you were, but since tonight we are talking about society’s role in labeling sexuality, are you more comfortable to identify as a bisexual?”
“No. I’m not attracted to men. I’ve been hit on many times in my adult life by the same sex, and not once had I felt any kind of attraction.”
“But you said you kissed a man before?”
“Experimenting in college. It didn’t do it for me.”
“Have you been in love with a woman?”
“I loved my most recent girlfriend a lot. I just couldn’t love her in a forever kind of way.”
“Perhaps you don’t see gender when you begin to connect to another person, and what attracts you is their kindness, their personality traits. Some identify that as being pansexual. It could very well be that this man calls to you on a deeper level.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because this guy is a prick.”
I gawked at my reflection as though it were responsible for that comment. “What the serious fuck?”
Another chuckle came before Dr. Lair had gone on to explain his aversion to labeling. Meanwhile, Confused in Jersey remained silent for the most part or at times continued to respond with one-word answers. I couldn’t listen anymore, and as anger simmered my blood, I tapped the Galaxy app to shut it down.
That man had serious issues, and I refused to be subjected to his holier-than-thou attitude for the next three months.
Prick.
I’d give him prick.
When Rebecca had invited me to dinner, my first response had been no. It would be hard enough to have to deal with each other on the occasions we had no choice, as when the baby arrived. But then… I felt bad and decided avoiding him wasn’t acting like the friend I claimed I could be.
And now… well, after hearing that call on the air, fuck being a friend. I planned on showing him just how much of a prick I could be. Screw being there to support him. He’d had his chance to navigate our situation in a positive direction. All bets were now off.
So there I was, a day later and still fuming at his audacity, all while sitting in my car in the driveway and hypocritically checking my reflection in the rearview mirror like an idiot as my heart began to pump traitorously.
I slammed the car door a bit too forcibly before stomping toward the front door. My ego reminded me that he was nothing but a confused man in denial who felt the need to voice to millions what his true opinion of me was even though he was the one who’d come on to me. Regardless of that sound logic, it was my dick that took the wheel as it remembered what it felt like when that frustrating-as-fuck man had kissed me. Instantly, the memory had the betrayer behind my zipper perking up. And, pathetically, my hand had just moved away from adjusting the traitor when Marco opened the door.
“Hey, you’re right on time.”
“I’m always punctual,” I argued defensively. “You’re the one who’s always late.” The corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He waved me in and grinned when I stormed past him into the foyer.
He and I had yet to discuss that kiss his wife had told him about. The day she’d heard me on the phone with Cooper, Rebecca had fessed up she’d recounted to her husband what had happened on the cruise, but he hadn’t said one word to me on the subject, and until now it hadn’t bothered me. We could usually talk about anything… so, what was he hiding? So help me God if he sided with his brother-in-law, there weren’t enough curse words in the Italian language to cover my tirade.
The air-conditioning did little to cool my overheated flesh, and I suspected it wasn’t the Florida humidity that caused it. Voices filtering toward us from the family room silenced the moment Marco and I appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” Rebecca said through a cartoonish smile. “We were just talking about you.”
Subtle.
“I bet you were.” My gaze connected with Cooper and held. “Cooper.”
“Hi,” he said robotically. Dammit, he looked hot, and it wasn’t because of the plain blue T-shirt or khaki shorts he had on. Not because of the hair peppering his legs, of which he had one casually resting on the opposite knee. And not because of the way his light-brown locks looked like someone had just run their hands through them.
It was how his gorgeous tormented hazel eyes connected and held with mine. It was the sexual tension that radiated off his perfect physique in waves… and fuck if that didn’t suit him. In the past, I’d been used to seeing the guy with a constant smile. But the brooding silent thing he had going on now was my fucking kryptonite.
What the fuck was I thinking?
He’d called me a prick on a nationally syndicated sex show.
“Are we going?” I asked, still hovering between their foyer and great room.
“No, we have time. Reservations are at seven.”
“You said six,” I argued.
Rebecca’s brow furrowed in the way that I knew meant she was indeed up to no good. “No, I think I said seven.”
I startled when Marco clapped a hand on my shoulder, his brows rising. “What?” I responded, but he ignored my narrowed gaze.