(Now) Kinsley: Boyfriend Doesn't Exist

I'm feeling bonus-y tonight...

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I let myself be sad my whole drive home.  All 17 minutes of it.  After that, I promised myself, I was done.  Surprisingly, I didn't cry.  I guess I'd done enough of that lately.  Good riddance, because I hate crying.

On Friday, I got a group text from Liv, asking if anyone wanted to do anything.  I didn't.  I also didn't feel like explaining why I didn't, so I just didn't respond.  Instead, after work I went to the gym, hoping that Liv was still going to the one that was closer to her job.  I stayed there until I could barely stay upright on the stair machine anymore, then headed home.  I threw a frozen pizza in the oven when I got home and took a quick shower, then set to work cleaning...again.  It was something to keep me busy.  I considered going out and getting a drink somewhere alone, but decided that was a little too angsty for me.

I checked my phone every 10 minutes.  I didn't want to talk to Damien, but I wanted him to want to talk to me.  I wanted him to be sorry that he fucked everything up.  I wanted him to be sorry, because if he was sorry, that meant that maybe it wasn't all my fault.  But, no call...no text...nothing.  He seemed perfectly content with letting me walk out on him.  Not that I would have let him change my mind, but it's the fucking principle of it.

When my phone rang late Saturday morning, I lunged across the couch for it.  It was Kendra.  I frowned, but decided to answer.  "Hello?"

"Hey! Where have you been?  I need an update on your life, I think," she said.

"We broke up," I said simply.  "But don't be fucking weird about it, okay?  I'm fine."

"You're the opposite of fine, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay," she replied matter-of-factly.  "We're going out tonight.  You should come if you want."

I almost said no.  Almost.  Then I realized that if I said no, I'd be proving Kendra's point.  "Okay, where and what time?"  I got the details and hung up.  I headed to the gym and then ran few errands afterwards.

I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready to go out.  But when I was done, I was pretty impressed with my reflection.  Rebound sex was going to be happening tonight.

I want everyone to know that I beat Kendra, Christian, Liv, and Brody to the bar.  It's the closest to on time that I've ever gotten out of my house.  By the time Kendra and Christian got there, I had already charmed a drink out of my first unsuspecting victim.  Tonight was about regaining control, and so far it was going great.

Drink Guy bored me rather quickly, and he left when he got tired of my wandering gaze.  The next guy that came over was much more promising.  It wasn't long before I tested the waters by playfully grabbing his arm and brushing my thigh against his.  He quickly offered to buy me another drink.  After drink number two plus a shot, he asked me if I wanted to leave.  It wasn't even 11pm.   "I'd love to," I replied, smiling sweetly at him.

When we got outside, he said, "So I live literally down the block.  Or if you want to do something else..."  He trailed off, suddenly worrying that he misread me.

"Well, that's convenient.  Let's go!" I said.

He wasted very little time with pleasantries once we were inside, and it was just as well.  He was a sloppy kisser, but I slowed his tongue's assault down a little with a hand on his chest and easing my head back a little.  He got the message really quickly.

We made our way to his room, and once we were there he said, "I, uh, don't know if my roommate is home or not..."  I rolled my eyes and pushed him down on his bed.  He lifted me up to straddle him and we continued our frenzied making out.  We were down to our underwear when he said, "I don't think I have a condom."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I sighed.  I stood up and marched out to the living room where I'd left my purse.  I snatched it and took it into this guy's room with me (I maybe should have at least asked him his name?).  I unzipped the inner pocket and found a condom.  "Here you go," I said, tossing it at him, then undoing and discarding my bra.  Always be prepared.  I was a girl scout.

My quest for a condom had me a little distracted, but a quick flick of his tongue across my nipple brought me back into the moment.  I encouraged him to move things along and he finally got on top of me and guided himself into me.  I was completely underwhelmed by him and quickly paused the action to get on top.  He did absolutely nothing to help me out, but I managed to maneuver a lackluster orgasm for myself before I flipped around and let him finish off from behind.

"Do you have a bathroom?" I asked.

"Huh?"  Fucking post-orgasm daze.

"A bathroom," I repeated.

"Oh, yeah.  Straight across the hall."

I managed to find all my articles of clothing in the dark and took everything across the hall into the bathroom.  I ran my fingers through my hair to tame it, wiped a smudge of mascara away, peed, and got dressed.  Then I slipped out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and out the door.

I was likely back to the bar before he even noticed I was gone.  I was thankful then that I hadn't asked his name.  Quite honestly, I didn't give a shit.  I headed straight for the bar and ordered a shot and another drink.  This time I paid for them myself.

I walked over to the table of happy couples and pretended that I hadn't seen the judgy, dirty looks Lauren had been shooting me all night.  Instead, I talked mostly to Liv and Kendra, who both seemed hell bent on pretending I hadn't just disappeared for 45 minutes after walking out with a guy.  Lauren kept her mouth shut, but I knew what she was thinking.  I had a feeling she and I would have it out at some point in the next couple weeks.

I went to the bathroom and texted Cole, a guy I used to flirt work with.  He'd left my little company about 2 months ago, and he'd sent me an occasional flirty message since then.  I'd blown them all off though, because up until two days ago I had a boyfriend.  "What are you up to?" I sent.  Total booty call text, didn't care.  It took me three tries to get the letters that I wanted...maybe I was more drunk than I thought I was.

"DDing for my friends, but taking them home soon.  You?"

I carefully texted him back, "Got room for one more? ;)" while I went to the bathroom, then washed my hands and headed back for the bar.  I got another shot and another drink, and made my way back to the table, wobbling a little on my stupidly high heels.

When my phone buzzed, I pulled it out, careful to shield it from the others at the table.  I smiled when I saw that it said, "If the one more is you, there's always room.  Where are you?"  I told him, and he told me he could be here in 20 minutes.

Less than 20 minutes later, I got a text saying he was out front.  When I told them I was leaving, a concerned-looking Brody asked if I needed a ride.  I was hoping to sneak out without telling them anything, and I was irritated by him, even though I should have been grateful to have friends that will look out for me.  I told them I was getting picked up by a friend, said bye, and left.

When I stumbled out to the sidewalk, I saw Cole get out of his perfectly impractical double parked Mercedes E-class coupe (inherited from his grandfather--not something he could afford on his own, unfortunately).  "You have the stupidest car for DDing ever," I commented, swaying slightly.

"And you are really, really drunk," he replied, looking surprised.  "Your texts were so coherent."  He looped his hand lightly around my upper arm and led me over to his car.  I was surprised to find the car empty when he pulled open the passenger door for me.

"I thought you were DDing," I said.

"I was," he replied.  "And apparently, I still am."  Without even batting an eye, he reached across me to buckle my seat belt, because I was too distracted by touching all the things inside the car.  I closed my eyes briefly and breathed in his scent...cologne, soap, and a hint of whiskey.  I wondered where he'd been with his friends.

Then the door was shutting, and I jumped at the sound.  He got in and quickly pulled into traffic, pulling on his seatbelt as he accelerated.  "Where to, Miss?" he asked, in a terrible attempt at a British accent.

"Kate Middleton would be fucking offended," I scoffed.  I told him where I lived, and he got us going in the right direction.

"So...boyfriend working tonight, or what?" he asked.  His attempt at casual missed the mark, even with how drunk I was.

"Boyfriend doesn't exist," I replied.

"Oh," he replied.  "I'm sorry to hear that."

I snorted.  "No you're not."

"Don't be a dick, I'm trying to be nice."

"Don't be," I said, shaking my head, which caused me to get a little dizzy.  "I don't like nice guys."

"So I shouldn't have responded to your request for a DD?" he bantered back.

"I wasn't requesting your driving services," I responded flirtatiously.

He laughed.  "If you would have said so in the first place, I would have gotten there to get you two drinks earlier so you could at least stand on your own."

"I can stand just fine, asshole," I replied.  "Hey, turn left here."  I hadn't really been paying attention to where we were, and we'd gone past my street.

He parked in front of my house and after momentarily wrestling with my seatbelt, I got it off just in time for Cole to pull my door open.  He offered me a hand and pulled me up out of the low slung car.  "You are going to kill yourself in those shoes," he said, shaking his head.  I let him put his arm around my waist as he walked with me towards my door.

"You're coming in, right?" I asked, clumsily fishing my keys out of my purse.

He looked at me and smiled slightly.  "You know I would love to.  But I don't make a habit of sleeping with drunk women when I'm sober."

"I'm not thaaaaaat drunk," I protested.  Of course, it was right at that second that I lost my balance and tipped to the left.

Luckily, Cole was able to catch me and right me before I tipped fully.  "Clearly," he responded, smirking.  "Look, I'll walk you in and make sure you get up to bed without passing out on the stairs or something. If you're still interested tomorrow, call me and I'll take you to lunch and then I will absolutely come in."

"I don't want lunch," I pouted.

"Then call me tomorrow I will come over and fuck your brains out, okay?  But not tonight.  Tonight you need a glass of water and sleep."

"You're so fucking bossy and self-righteous," I grumbled.  He laughed, which irritated me more, and followed me inside.  I put my hand on his arm and bent down to unstrap my shoe.

"You should probably sit and do that," he suggested, nudging me towards the couch.  I realized he was actually very right, and I let him guide me over to the couch.  I was past the point of drunk, and I was starting to feel gross and overly tired, and to be honest, I didn't even want to have sex anymore.  I sat down and looked hopelessly down at my feet before leaning back and shutting my eyes.

"Okay, I'll help," Cole said.  He crouched in front of the couch, and even though he probably could have had a great view right up my short skirt, he kept his eyes on my shoes.  He swore as he fiddled with the tiny buckles, but finally slid them carefully off my feet.  He stood and held his hands out to me.  I just gazed listlessly at him, too drunk to care about my bed.

"Please don't make me carry you, Kinsley," he prodded.  I considered this and then lifted my arms up far enough for him to grab my hands.  He pulled and I hauled myself to my feet.  "Upstairs?" he asked.  I nodded.  He half-dragged me up the stairs.  My feet were so heavy I could barely lift them high enough to clear each step.  When we got upstairs, I got a sudden burst of energy and insisted on brushing my teeth and washing my face.  He hovered outside the bathroom while I did that, then got me to my room.  I sat down heavily on my bed.  "Pajamas?" he asked hesitantly.

I laughed and leaned backwards, flopping across my bed.  "It's cute that you think I wear clothes to bed," I slurred.

"Please wait until I leave to take your clothes off, then," he requested.  "Not that I don't want to see you naked, because I do.  But I really, really want you to be sober when I see you naked."

"Okay," I agreed.  "You still want to see me naked and sober, even after seeing me shitfaced and ridiculous?"

"Absolutely.  Call me tomorrow if you still want to see me naked, okay?"  He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

"Mmmhmmm," I mumbled.  Maybe I'd just sleep in my clothes.  Like this, sideways across the bed with my legs hanging off.

"Do you need anything before I go?"  I shook my head, and immediately regretted it.  I rolled onto my side and tried to convince myself that if I just fell asleep before I threw up, everything would be good.  That thought lasted all of 10 seconds before I bolted up and into the bathroom.  I slammed the door shut behind me, hoping Cole would take the opportunity to slip out.  But, being the apparent gentlemen that he is (would never have guessed it, either), he pushed the door open behind me and then I felt him pulling my hair away from my face while I did one of the least sexy things a person can possibly do.

I dutifully thrust my arm behind me and he tugged the ponytail holder off my wrist and clumsily tied back my hair.  Then he sat down behind me and rubbed my back.   "You can go," I croaked between bouts of throwing up.

"I know," he replied.  But he didn't move.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

He chuckled, and waited while I got rid of a little more alcohol.  I racked my brain trying to remember if I had eaten dinner.  Maybe I hadn't.  "Because being drunk as hell is miserable enough.  Being drunk as hell and by yourself is worse."

"I hate everything," I groaned, resting my face on my arm.

"I know," he said.  "Want to try to drink some water?"  I nodded.  He stood and filled the glass on my counter half full with cool water as I flushed the toilet, then he handed it to me.  I groaned again as I shifted and hauled myself upright. I used a mouthful to rinse my mouth out first, then tentatively took a sip.  The cool liquid soothed my raw throat.  I waited, and when it didn't immediately come back up, I took another drink.  "Feel any better?"

"I feel fucking awful," I replied.  "But I guess I feel a little less awful."  I took another sip, then said ruefully, "Guess I blew my chance of ever seeing you naked."

"Nah," he replied.  "I've seen much worse.  At least you made it to the bathroom."

"Yeah, that's great, but I'm never going to want to see you again after this.  Even I have some shame, believe it or not.  Very few people have seen me throw up.  The only one that's seen it a second time was my mom.  And I don't even talk to her anymore.  Once you've seen me throw up, you're out.  This is humiliating."

"You must have been the life of the party in college," Cole replied wryly.

"I don't drink like this ever," I said.  I got shakily to my feet.  "I think I forgot to eat dinner."  I rinsed my mouth again and then grabbed my toothbrush.  I brushed my teeth and splashed some cold water on my face.  Cole handed me the hand towel hanging just out of my reach and I dried my face off, then took another drink from the glass he'd given me.  "Fuck," I groaned.

Cole trailed behind me as I went back to my room and pulled the blankets back.  "Are you good?" he asked.

"I think so," I replied, climbing into bed.  I was still fully dressed, but I didn't even care.  I just wanted to make the spinning stop.  Cole grabbed the now almost empty glass from me, disappeared, and returned a minute later with a full glass of water.  "Thank you."  I took a drink and set it on my nightstand.

"Call me if you decide you're not too humiliated to see me again," he said.

"Yeah, okay," I replied.  I turned towards the wall and pulled the blanket up to my chin.  Cole turned the light off and started out of the room.  "Cole?" I called after him.

There was a pause, and then he said, "Yeah?"

"Thanks.  You're the best."

"You're welcome," he replied.  And then he was gone.

Liar

On Friday I had another pleasant day at work, went to the gym, and then went to the grocery store.  I had decided that I really loved grocery shopping alone on Friday evenings, and felt like that officially meant I was an adult.  My mom would be so proud.

Brody had called me that morning and told me that the lawsuit was settled, his dad's company was officially sold, and he had a flight out tomorrow morning, at a time that put him at the airport at a perfect time for me to come get him after work.

I had texted Lauren, Kinsley, and Kendra to see if anyone was interested in doing anything Friday night, but Kendra and Christian were headed out of town to visit his parents for the night, Lauren already had plans with Alex, and Kinsley never replied.  Instead, I headed home with plans to make myself some homemade pizza for dinner.  I was a little down about spending tonight by myself.  After doing some wedding planning the night before and spending most of the week by myself in our house, I was really ready for Brody to come home.  I tried not to be pouty on the phone when he told me he couldn't get a flight back until Saturday, and reminded myself that I had to work Saturday anyway.

I pulled my car into the garage and parked, then wrangled all the grocery bags (I'm definitely one of those people that would rather loop 14 bags around each arm than make more than one trip) into the house.  I got into the kitchen and stopped dead, because Brody was standing at the counter, chopping something.  "What the hell are you doing home?" I asked as he set his knife down and turned around.

He raised his eyebrows at me and said, chuckling, "Well, that wasn't the warm welcome I was expecting!"  I untangled myself from all the grocery bags and set them down right on the floor so I could throw my arms around him.

"I'm just surprised," I mumbled against his chest.  "You lied to me!"

"For a good cause," he replied, kissing the top of my head.  "I missed you."

"I missed you too.  I was sad that you weren't going to be home tonight, which is dumb because you weren't even gone that long."

"I know, I could tell when I talked to you earlier.  So I went to the airport to see if I could get a standby seat on an earlier flight, and I got lucky.  I decided to not tell you because I wanted to surprise you."

"How'd you even get here?" I asked, finally disentangling myself from him and walking over to where I'd left the grocery bags in an unceremonious heap.

"I took the bus into town and Alex picked me up and brought me home," he said, bending to grab one of the grocery bags and helping me put things away.

"And are you making dinner?" I looked over to the counter where I saw a bunch of veggies on the cutting board.

He nodded, pulling open the fridge to put away the chicken breasts and pork chops I'd gotten.  "Yeah, I'm just going to put some burgers on the grill.  I grabbed some potatoes and salad stuff too."  He motioned with his head towards the cutting board full of veggies.  I told him I'd finish putting groceries away while he finished dinner.  Once the groceries were put away, I ran upstairs and took a quick shower, returning downstairs just in time for dinner to be done.

"I love when you cook," I said, as I got out plates.  "Actually, I just really love when you're home to eat dinner with me.  But I also love when you cook."

"Well, I can't say I love to cook, but I do love being home to eat dinner with you," he teased.  I laughed, and we sat down at the table to eat.

"So, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Brody said, once we were settled.  I must have looked nervous, because he quickly added, "No, nothing bad.  But now that we're going to be getting married really soon, I thought we should probably decide together what to do with the money from selling my shares of my dad's business."

"Oh," I said, relieved.  "Well...how much money are we talking about?"  He told me, and I did my best to keep my face neutral.  I don't know what I was expecting, but the number he said was definitely more.  "I don't even know where you'd start," I admitted.

"Well, I figured we could use some of it to pay for the wedding and honeymoon--which we should also probably plan, by the way." I agreed.  "I would like to invest some of it, as well.  But I was curious if you had any thoughts.  Did you still want to look for a new house at some point in the near future?"

I shook my head.  "I love this house, and I definitely feel like it's 'our' house, so not really.  In fact, I'd really prefer to avoid moving again for as long as possible.  Is there anything you'd like to use some of the money for with your company?"

"I was thinking about that," he said, nodding.  "I'd like to put a little more money into doing some recruiting of staff so that we can get some new people, get them trained, and start accepting new clients again.  But we're also going to outgrow our office space soon.  I don't know what I'm going to do, though, because there hasn't been anything big enough on the market lately, and there's no good land to build anywhere I'd want to."

"What about doing a satellite office or a second location?" I asked.

He considered this.  "Actually, that's not a bad idea.  I could move some of the staff to a second location--like HR and marketing, the departments that don't deal directly with clients.  That would actually be perfect, especially if I could find a place that would be a little more 'interviewee friendly'--easier to find, better parking."  He grinned at me.  "I knew there was a reason I was marrying you."

I laughed.  "Glad to help, I guess!"

"Also, I'd love it if you at least thought about getting a new car before winter.  Something with 4-wheel drive, because, as you found out this spring, the roads can get pretty bad out here."

"That's really probably not a bad idea," I admitted.  "I love my car and my gas mileage, but I wouldn't be sad about having something that's a little better in the deep snow.  My CR-V is fine in a little snow, but it struggles in the deep stuff."

"If by 'struggles' you mean 'drives straight into a snowbank when you hit the brakes,' then yes," he said wryly.

"It did not drive straight into the snowbank," I protested.  "It spun out first."

"Yes, because that helps your cause," Brody said, making a face.

"Yeah, you're right.  Well, I'll definitely go look this fall, at least.  There's no reason to get rid of my car any sooner than that."

Brody looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it and nodded.  "Thank you," he said.  "I'll worry about you a lot less if I know you have a good vehicle."

We moved away from money talk and he told me about his trips to Chicago and Miami, and I told him about Kinsley and Damien.  "Oh," he said, as we were clearing the dishes awhile later.  "My mom wants to have dinner with us.  She said she'd come up.  What do you think about doing that this weekend?"

"That's fine," I agreed.  "How about Sunday?"

"Okay, I'll call her."

I was rinsing the dishes off when I felt Brody's arms wrap around me from behind.  He pressed his face against my neck and inhaled.  "I missed you," he said.  I shut off the water and leaned back into him, and we both stood there for several seconds, just enjoying being close to each other.  He kissed the back of my neck before he turned me around and pressed his lips against mine.  I reached up and pushed my fingers into his hair, dragging my nails across his scalp and pulling his head closer to mine.  He shivered and lifted me onto the counter, and we were almost the same height then.

I pulled away and pressed my forehead against his.  "I hate when you travel," I said softly.

"I know," he replied.  "I don't like it either."

"I don't like being in this big house by myself," I admitted.

He leaned back so he could look at me.  "Should we get you a dog?"  He was smirking, but his eyes were serious.

I shrugged.  "I don't feel like we're home enough for a dog.  But I don't hate the idea."

"That's what doggie day care is for," he said, grinning.  "Or we could get a little yappy thing and you could train it to be a therapy dog, and then it would go to work with you too."

"I do not want a little yappy dog," I protested, laughing at the thought of a tiny little dog scampering around my office, yipping at my clients.

Brody smiled and rested his hand against the side of my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek, then across my bottom lip.  I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.  "Okay, no yappy little dogs.  We could get a dog that's bigger than you are and would scare the shit out of the neighbors' kids."

Eyes still closed, I laughed again.  "Oh god, can you imagine the Martins' little brat?  He certainly wouldn't ride his bike through our yard anymore."

"So a big dog seems to be the way to go," Brody agreed.  He used the hand on my face to tilt my chin up slightly and kissed me.

"But who's going to vacuum up all the dog hair?" I asked, my lips moving against his.

Brody chuckled.  "Do you want my honest answer, or the one I tell you in an attempt to convince you that we need to get a dog?  I should probably tell you now that this house has been vacuumed more since you moved in than in the entire time I lived here before that."

I shook my head, and pressed my lips back to his, then said, "Got it, I'm vacuuming up the dog hair.  I'm good with that, but you get to pick up the poop."

"Do they make dogs that don't poop?  I mean, science must have figured that out by now, right?"  Brody asked.  I burst into laughter.  "What?  That was a serious question!"  He tried to keep a straight face but ended up joining me in laughter.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back towards me, kissing him again.  "I think we'd better abandon that conversation," I said.

"Why?  It was just getting fun."

"Because I can think of better ways to use our evening."  I kissed him again.

"That's an excellent reason," he replied.

(Now) Kinsley: The "Walking Out Type"

I realized that I left you guys with a hell of cliffhanger here, especially with my little blurb about Kinsley at happy hour in the last main storyline post.  There are also things I'd like to put in the next post, but this needs to be resolved first.  SO, here's a bonus for your Monday morning :)  You can expect one more regular storyline post this week, and I hope to still get the next Kinsley post in Friday (though now it might be Saturday.  But there will be one!)  

Also, if you haven't been around in a few days, make sure you scroll down.  I posted Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and I'd hate to have you miss anything, especially the Kinsley post that comes before this one.  Happy Monday!
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He'd told me he "wasn't really the walking out type."  That he'd "rather stay and sort it out than walk away, even just to take a break, and risk someone not coming back."  And now he'd walked out without sorting things out twice.  What was I supposed to think about that?

It was 3 days after he'd left me crying on the floor, and I hadn't heard from him.  I refused to believe he was never coming back.  He was not the kind of man that would walk out on me and not at least definitively end it.  He wouldn't leave me waiting and wondering.  Right?

I stared at my phone awhile longer and then tossed it to the side and stood.  I'd initiated our last contact, he could do the next one.  If there was a next one.  I shook my head and walked downstairs, planning to do some cleaning (again) to keep myself occupied.

Thursday's work day passed the same way the ones before it had: with me keeping my head down and staying as busy and focused on work as possible.  By the time I left work and headed towards the bar we were meeting at for happy hour, I was pissed that I hadn't gotten so much as a text from Damien.    So much for not being the "walking out type."

By the time I actually got to happy hour, I was determined to start the process of forgetting about him.  Finally, something I was good at.  I greeted Liv, Lauren, and Alex cheerfully.  So far they were the only ones there.  Liv asked how I was doing and I brushed the question off with a smile and a "Better, thanks!"  I enlisted her help to fill Lauren in, because I didn't feel like telling the story, and headed to the bar for a drink (because I didn't feel like hearing the story).

While waiting for my drink, a decently attractive man came up next to me.  He leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come take his order.  I saw him glance at me out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my face towards him and smiled brightly.  "Hi," I said.

"Hi," he replied warmly.  His smile was a little crooked, but it was kind of cute like that.  "Thank god it's almost the weekend, right?"

I laughed.  "Yes, definitely."  Except I was dreading the weekend.  Because the weekend would be way too much unstructured time for me to think, and thinking was pretty much the worst right now.

"Are you here with...?" he trailed off, clearly fishing for me to let him know if I was single or not.

"Just some friends," I replied.  By this point, the bartender had returned with my drink, and I paused while she took my new friend's order.  When she went away again, I angled my body towards him and said, "They're all coupled up though, and they can be kind of annoying about it."  I felt bad for a second about saying it, because it wasn't true, but I needed this guy to know, with absolute certainty, that I was not "coupled up."  Except, even I wasn't certain if I was or not.

His crooked smile grew a little.  "I know how that goes," he agreed.  "My name is Greg, by the way."

"Hi Greg," I replied, flashing my perfected flirting smile.  "Kinsley."  We stood at the bar chatting long after his drink was delivered and paid for.  Long enough that Lauren came over, looking confused.

"Hey Kins, what are you doing?" she asked casually, her eyes darting between me and Greg.

I shrugged.  "Just talking to my new friend, Greg," I answered.

"Oh," Lauren replied.

"I'll catch up with you in a couple minutes," Greg said, smiling sympathetically at me.  He wandered away from the bar and I sighed and raised an eyebrow at Lauren.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that!" she hissed.  "What are you doing?!"

"What does it matter?" I retorted.  "I don't have a boyfriend anymore."

Lauren closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, her face had softened.  "Do you know that for sure?"

"No, but I haven't heard from him 4 days, and the last time I talked to him, he told me he didn't want to try to make it work, so what am I supposed to assume?"

"I just don't want you to do something that you're going to regret," Lauren insisted.  "Just...whatever you're doing, make sure it's what you really want, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," I agreed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

After Lauren wandered back to the table, Greg reappeared.  He looked at my empty glass.  "Get another, or get out of here?" he asked.

I didn't even have to think.  "Let's go," I said.

I'd gone home with enough random guys that I had a system for determining which ones were safe and which ones were not safe.  So far it hadn't let me down.  And I never, ever took them to my house.  Only theirs.  This one passed my mental checklist, so off we went.  I followed him to his apartment (which always felt safer than a house to me) and he held the door open for me to follow him into the building.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked, as he let us into his apartment.  "I have some beer, vodka, I might have a bottle of wine..."

"A beer is fine," I replied.  I looked around the apartment while I sat there.  It was sparsely decorated, but it was clean and he had nice furniture.  He reappeared in a couple minutes with two beers and a bottle opener.  He popped the cap off one of the bottles and handed it to me.  "Thanks," I said, taking a drink.  It was good beer, and I mentally added something else to my checklist: opens the drink in front of me.

We continued our conversation from the bar, and I was impressed that he wasn't trying to immediately get in my pants, even though we both knew that was exactly where this was headed.  When I finished my beer he took the empty bottle from me and set it on the coffee table next to his.  Then he scooted closer to me and brushed a piece of hair out of my face.  His hand lingered there, and his thumb brushed my cheek.  "You are seriously beautiful," he murmured, and I almost rolled my eyes.  But right as he was about to kiss me, my phone rang loudly from my purse, making us both jump.

"Sorry," I muttered, reaching down for my purse.  I pulled my phone out, meaning to silence it, but when I saw who was calling, I stood abruptly.  "I have to go," I said, without even taking my eyes off my phone.  I left without an apology or a look backwards, hurrying out of his apartment.

I answered my phone breathlessly when I was on the stairs.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Kinsley."  Damien's voice made my stomach clench.  "Can I come over?"

"I'm out," I replied, "But I can come to you."  He agreed, and I practically ran down the rest of the stairs and out to my car.  I had to consciously force myself not to speed or drive like an idiot--mostly out of nerves, since I had no idea where Damien's head was at right now.

When I got to Damien's house, I popped a piece of gum into my mouth, since I could still taste the beer.  I checked my hair and makeup in my visor mirror, took three deep breaths, and got out of the car.  He pulled his front door open before I even made it to the front step, and he immediately moved aside so I could come in...not the warmest welcome.

"Hi," I said anxiously.  "I...I missed you."  I could feel the tears welling already, and I blinked them back.

"Kinsley," he said softly.  He didn't tell me he missed me.  "Sit, please?"

I perched nervously on the edge of his couch and watched him pace twice before he sat down in the recliner.  He leaned forward and looked at me, and I burst into tears.  "Whoa," he said gently.  "I haven't even said anything."  I shook my head and tried to take a deep breath, but ended up coughing and crying harder.  He moved over to the couch and tentatively touched my arm.  When I didn't move away from his touch, he slid his hand to my back and began to rub it.  "Why are you crying?"

"Because," I hiccuped between sobs, "I just almost did something stupid but then you called and I left and came here but I wish I hadn't because you're just going to break up with me!"  His hand paused briefly before it continued on its path up and down my back.  He remained silent, which confirmed my suspicions.

When I had gotten it together a little bit, he asked, "Can I ask what you meant when you said you just almost did something stupid?"

I definitely would have preferred to lie, but there wasn't much of a point, especially if we really were breaking up.  "I left happy hour and went home with a guy," I replied, my voice a dull monotone.  I never met his eyes.  "Nothing happened."

"Jesus, Kinsley," Damien breathed, taking his hand off my back and leaning back against the back of the couch.  "Are you kidding me?"

"I hadn't heard from you in 4 days!" I exclaimed.  "The last thing of any substance you said to me was that you didn't want to figure things out.  So sorry for being confused about if I had a boyfriend or not."

"Regardless of whether or not you had a boyfriend--which you do, as far as I'm concerned--was that really a good idea?"

"Oh no," I snapped back, shaking my head.  "No.  You do not get to judge me.  Not right now."

He sighed.  "You're right," he replied.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just surprised.  I told you I needed some time, and you went out and... Look, I didn't ask you to come here so we could fight some more, believe it or not."  I snorted and had to close my eyes so they didn't roll right out of my head.  "Just listen to me, please."

"I'm listening," I replied.  I was so sure he was breaking up with me that I just wanted to get it over with.

"Kinsley, I've done a lot of thinking about all of this, and I just don't think this is fair to you," he started.

I cut him off, my voice strong again.  "You don't get to decide what's fair to me and what's not.  I do.  If you don't want to do this anymore, then be a man and admit that you don't want to, don't try to make it better by saying it's not fair to me."

"It's not that I don't want to do this anymore," he replied, shaking his head.  "It's just that I don't know how to do things differently so that we're both happy."

"And you don't want to try," I supplied.

"Why are you making this so hard?" he asked with exasperation.

"Because I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, which is obvious by how much time I've spent with your family in the past several months.  But you are a coward who is going to hide behind what's 'fair' and what's easy, and instead of putting in some effort to try to make things better for both of us, you'd rather just break up, pretending it's for my own sake.  Sorry, breaking up should be hard."

"I don't want to break up with you, Kinsley!" he exploded.  This is the most emotion I had ever seen from him.  Ever.  I actually almost enjoyed it, in a sick and twisted way.  "I love you, for fuck's sake.  But I don't feel like I can trust that you're going to be honest with me and tell me when there's too much family time happening.  And I can't go forward always wondering if you're secretly pissed off about it.  I've tried so hard to be patient and to be reasonable but I can't make you tell me how you feel about things, and I sure as hell can't read your mind."

He looked at me, almost desperately, and I got the distinct impression he was waiting for me to beg and say, "Please don't go, I promise I'll tell you how I feel, I promise I'll learn to communicate better!"  But I don't beg.

"Okay," I said simply.  "If you can't trust that I'll be honest with you and tell you how I feel, I understand.  And you're right.  Always wondering where I stand must be difficult, and it's certainly no way to live your life.  Ironically enough, I think that's the most honest thing you've said in a week.  Thank you for it.  It's a relief to be done wondering.  I love you, and I'll miss you.  And if you ever want to just have sex, you should give me a call, because I'll definitely miss that."  I leaned over, kissed him briefly on the lips, and stood up.

"Wait," he said, looking confused.  "You're just...done?"

I sighed and looked at him.  "You've been making me sweat this out for a week, Damien.  An entire fucking week.  I was a goddamned disaster for at least half of it.  In that time, I did what I had to do to keep myself from falling apart completely, and it happened to be that I prepared myself for you to break up with me.  I don't have the energy to drag my heart through the dirt again to sit here and promise you I'll do better, and listen to you promise me that I just have to tell you when enough is enough.  I can't promise I'll do better, because I don't know if I can do better."

He looked up at me, and he looked sad.  I almost laughed that it took a break up to make him show some emotion when we argued.  "I'm just not good at relationships, Damien."

"That's not true," he said softly.

"It is," I replied.  "Unlike you, I've always been the walking out type."

"Kins," he protested, standing as I walked towards the door.  When I got there, I raised my hand in an awkward wave, not quite able to bring myself to say goodbye out loud at that moment.  I opened the door, slipped out, and shut it quietly.

It wasn't until I was in my car that I was able to whisper to myself, "Goodbye, Damien."

Wedding Planning Panic

I talked to Brody briefly on Monday night--basically just long enough to say goodnight.  I wasn't quite ready to go back to work on Tuesday, but who ever is after a vacation?  I was not disappointed to learn that Josh was out the entire week on vacation.

I logged into our time tracking system to see how much PTO I had at the moment.  Now that we were getting married in October, I intended to use it very wisely (so as little as possible) between now and then, so I could take the maximum amount of time off before and after.  I was relieved to see I had 6 days right now.  I'd accrue a few more prior to the wedding, which would give me some cushion in case I got sick or something, because I planned to take the entire week off before the wedding, then use my two week block of paid leave following the wedding.   I quickly completed the electronic form to request the days off and get approval to use my leave, then logged into my email to catch up.

My workday went by quickly and was enjoyable.  Aside from Josh, and the overall lack of camaraderie here, I really did like my job.  I enjoyed my clients and the work that I did, and my days tended to be far less stressful than those I spent at my first job here in Denver.

I was, however, disappointed to see that I missed a call from Brody during my last client.  Getting in touch with him when he was out of town working was always tough, and missing a call sometimes meant missing my chance.  Once I was in my car in the parking lot, I called him back, and I was excited when he answered.

"Hey Liv," he greeted me warmly.  "How was your day?"

"It was good, actually.  Josh is on vacation all week, so work was blissfully uneventful.  How was yours?  Do you know when you'll be home?"

"Well actually, that's why I'm calling," he replied.  "I have good news and not so good news."

"Okay?" I said, confused.

"I got a phone call today from my dad's attorney.  The lawsuit is settled, and for much less than we were thinking it would.  I just need to go sign paperwork."

"Brody, that's great!" I exclaimed.  "So I assume the not as good news is that you're heading to Miami when you're done in Chicago?"

"Yes. But there's more good news too.  He also said that there is a board-approved buyer interested.  He's willing to keep all the employees and board members on, not change the organizational structure, and basically just let them keep running things the way they are with just a few changes--namely doing some major PR campaigning to actively improve the reputation of the company, which is something that they really need."

"That would be awesome," I agreed.  "Are you ready to sell?"

"I am," he replied.  "I'm ready to close the door on that chapter of my life and move on.  So I'm flying down there tomorrow afternoon.  I hope I'll be back Friday, but it might be Saturday."

"Okay," I said, a little disappointed.  I don't like having the bed to myself that much.

"We can spend Sunday doing a little wedding planning, if you want," Brody suggested.  "Otherwise we're going to very quickly run out of time."  I agreed.  We chatted for a few more minutes, then I let him get back to work.  I decided to head to the gym instead of straight home (always keep a fully stocked gym bag in your car to take advantage of impulses!) and after my workout I was starving, so I stopped and picked up a sandwich instead of going home to cook for myself.

Once I made it home, I laid on the couch to watch some of my DVRed shows that Brody teased me for watching (I don't know why, Real Housewives is quality entertainment).  I grabbed my laptop and started making a list of things that needed to happen in order for us to have a wedding in less than 3 months.  I put the obvious ones down first, like: find DJ (band?), find photographer, flowers?, invitations (soon!!!), someone to do ceremony, bridesmaids dresses?, rings, tuxes (suits?).  Then I put the smaller tasks: plan menu, ceremony music?, first dance?, centerpieces/decorations, vows, timeline (evening?), shoes, jewelry,

I stopped abruptly, completely overwhelmed.  For wanting to do a small wedding, there was still so much to do, and planning events was not something I was good at.  I reached for my phone and called Lauren.  "Help me!" I whined into the phone when she answered.

"Help you do what?" she responded, confused.

"I just made a list of all the things I think I need to do for this wedding and I'm overwhelmed and I probably forgot things and I don't know how to do any of it and this wedding is going to be a disaster and--"

"Olivia!  Shut up for a second," Lauren commanded, interrupting my panicked ramblings.  "I will help you, but you need to knock that panicky shit off or you'll drive me up the wall."  Appropriately rebuked, I was silent.  "Thank you.  Okay, why don't you come over after happy hour on Thursday and we'll make a plan and get things organized.  Also, while I have you on the phone, my mom told me over the weekend that she'll do your invitations if you want her to.  We just have to let her know if you want her to, and get her all the info."

"That would be amazing!" I said excitedly.  "I miss your mom.  I'm bummed I didn't get to chat with her a little more last weekend."

"Well, you're in luck!  Since we changed our tickets to come out for your party, my mom is going to come here for her birthday."

"Really? That's exciting!" I replied.  After we hung up, I saved and closed my lists.  All they were doing was stressing me out.  Instead, I browsed the internet, looking at wedding pictures to try to get inspired.  I actually found a few things I liked, mostly photograph inspiration and some ideas for flowers--because despite my insistence on a small, not very traditional wedding, I did still want a lot of the typical wedding elements.

I browsed photos online and half paid attention to the TV until I got sleepy, then headed up to bed.  I was just getting settled into the middle of the bed when my phone vibrated.  I grabbed it, and saw it was Brody, so I answered.  "Hello?" I was a little worried that something was wrong, because it was fairly late in Chicago.

"Hey, I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked.  I told him he hadn't, and that I was just going to bed.  "Good, then I have good timing.  I just called to say goodnight.  I miss you."

"You're ridiculous," I teased him, even though I missed him too.  Now that we lived together, it was weird spending multiple nights apart.  "But I'm glad you called."  We chatted for a few minutes and then said goodnight.


It was amazing how much more pleasant my work days were when I didn't have to try to avoid Josh.  I had a great day on Wednesday and went to the gym again after work.  I called Kinsley to check in and see if she wanted to join me, but she didn't answer.  When I got home, I made a quick dinner and cleaned the bathrooms.  I had so much more energy after work when I good days.  It also helped to not have Brody home to make me not want to do productive things.

By the time I got to happy hour on Thursday, I was in a great mood, even though I did miss Brody.  I chatted happily with Alex as we waited for everyone else to get there.  "So, I feel like I'm probably supposed to ask you how wedding plans are coming," Alex joked.  "That's all you'll hear for the next 3 months, right?"

"Right, and then after that, it will probably be 'When are you having all the babies?!'" I replied.  "Please, if you don't ever ask me how wedding planning is going, these next 3 months will be much easier on all of us."

"That's fine," he teased.  "I'll just ask Brody instead.  I'm sure he'll say, 'It's going great, I think we're almost done.'  Meanwhile, you'll be panicking and killing yourself to try to get everything done in time.  That's pretty much how it worked with Christian and Kendra."

"I actually think he's more organized than I am," I admitted.  "So you might be wrong.  We'll see, I guess!"  Lauren arrived and thankfully did not want to talk wedding, since we were going to be doing that tonight.  Kinsley came shortly after, but after saying hi to us and asking me to explain her current relationship issues to Lauren, she disappeared.

"I think I'm going to go check on Kinsley," Lauren said, about 15 minutes after Kinsley had gone up to the bar to get a drink.  We nodded and continued our conversation as she walked over towards the other side of the room where the bar was.

When she came back, she was Kinsley-less and frowning.  "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"She's talking to some guy," Lauren said, shrugging.  "I...don't think we're going to see much of her tonight."

"Should we be worried?" I asked.

"She's going to do whatever she's going to do, regardless of what we do, so it's probably in everyone's best interest if we mind our own business."  I wasn't a huge fan of that plan, but Lauren knew Kinsley better than I did.  I figured I'd check on her when I went up to the bar to get a glass of water a little while later, but I didn't see her anywhere.

Kendra, who had arrived with Christian while Lauren was checking on Kinsley, volunteered to join us for our wedding planning meeting.  We gladly accepted, thankful for someone with actual wedding experience to help.  Lauren was a master planner, but knew very little about weddings, aside from invitations.

We left happy hour by 6:30, picked up some takeout, and headed to Lauren's house.  I showed them a picture of my dress, which even Lauren got excited about.  "It's perfect," she said excitedly.  "I love it."

"I think that's exactly what I said," I replied with a laugh.  Then I pulled out my laptop and brought up the restaurant's website and found some photos in a Google image search.

"Wow," Kendra said, clicking through the photos.  "This room is amazing.  You could do so many things with decorations if you wanted to."

"But you don't even need to," Lauren pointed out.  "The room is awesome on its own."

"What are you thinking for colors?" Kendra asked.

"Ummm..." I paused.  I had no idea.  I hadn't even thought about it.  "I don't know.  Do I have to have colors?"

"You should at least have a loose color scheme to help guide things like dresses, linens, invitations, all that stuff," Kendra explained patiently.  "Otherwise it will end up a jumbled mess."

"Oh."  I was glad she was here.  "I don't know.  I don't want the usual fall colors--I do know that."  Kendra googled "fall wedding colors" and asked me to scroll through the images and see if I liked anything.  I scrolled through, wrinkling my nose at all the burgundy and orange and gold.  It was all beautiful, but not my style.  "Ooh," I said suddenly, stopping and pointing at the screen.  "I like that!  Except without the bright orange flowers."  Kendra spun the laptop towards her and Lauren and they inspected someone's wedding photo with the bridesmaids wearing a deep purple.

"Here, may I?" Kendra asked.  I handed her the laptop.  She typed a few things, scrolled, typed again, and scrolled.  She had the laptop in her hands for what seemed like forever, then she turned it back towards me.  "What do you think?"

She had put together a collage of photos and colors.  There was the photo with the plum colored bridesmaid dresses, another with a bouquet of peach and pink flowers and green succulents, blocks of lavender, plum, peach, and gray, men in gray suits, ivory tables with plum runners, and dark purple shoes.  "I love it," I said in surprise.  "Except the gray.  I don't like the gray.  What about tan?"

Kendra took the laptop back and in a couple minutes handed it back.  The gray block was replaced with a light taupe, and the men in gray were gone, replaced with men in tan suits.  "Yes!" I exclaimed.  "That's perfect."  Kendra smiled proudly.

"Anything in mind for bridesmaid dresses?" Lauren asked.  She was on her own laptop, clicking away.

"I don't care," I replied.  "Whatever you and Lynn want is fine."  She showed me a few options and I nodded along.  "Seriously, just find something you both like and I'm good with it," I said finally.  I liked all the dresses she showed me just fine, and I trusted their judgment.

We spent the next hour going over the lists I'd made and adding things to them.  Lauren and Kendra collaborated to prioritize the tasks on them and make me a rough timeline of when I needed to get things done.  For most of them, the timeframe was "as soon as fucking possible, because you're getting married in less than three months."  Kendra gave me the information for her photographer, because I loved her wedding photos, and she said that her cousin had used a band that was in Colorado Springs, and they'd been really good.  She promised to get me the information, and any other recommendations her cousin had, as Colorado Springs was much closer than Denver to our venue.

By the time I got home that evening, I was feeling much calmer about planning.  Having a set plan helped.  I'd just needed someone to help me get organized.  I was definitely thankful for Lauren and Kendra's help.

Author's Note

Good news!  At least, I hope it's good news--I know I'm excited!  I'm going to be bringing back the alternative character Friday posts.  I'm going to do it a little differently than when I originally introduced it (so long ago!), and I'll be following one character at a time as they parallel Liv and Brody's storyline.  As more and more exciting things happen in Liv and Brody's story, it's getting harder to give the supporting cast the attention they deserve.  I've spent too much time making you guys fall in love with them to be neglecting them now.  Don't worry, they certainly won't be disappearing from the main storyline, but I'll be able to more thoroughly follow through on the side plots without creating a jumble of intersecting plots that don't get properly explored or wrapped up in the main posts.

You can expect a main storyline post Sunday night and one mid-week sometime, and then the next Kinsley post on Friday.  As you might have guessed, it's going to be The Kinsley Show for at least a few weeks.  I'm still not quite ready to commit to three set dates of posting, but you will always get a Sunday post, a Friday post, and I will do my damnedest to get you a post in between as well.

I hope you enjoy this little experiment.  As always, I welcome your thoughts, requests, and feedback as I explore this idea!  I am seriously loving all the thoughtful and amazing comments on the last post.  Thank you all for being the best readers out there!

(Now) Kinsley: Time

Here it is, your extra long bonus post!  Whew.  There will be another one from Kinsley's perspective, continuing this story...sometime next week, I imagine.  In case the timeline isn't super clear, the intro to this post occurs the Wednesday following the 4th of July, and then flashes "back" to that weekend.  The second post (later this week) will pick up on the Wednesday following the 4th of July.    
_________________________________________

"I just need more time."

Damien's words echoed in my head as I toyed with my phone.  He had given me all the time I needed to get over my hangups, why was it so hard for me to give him time right now?  Oh yeah, because the time he gave me was working towards having a relationship, but it felt like the time I was giving him was working towards not having a relationship.

At this point, it had been 3 days since I had heard anything from him.  My mind was spiraling quickly towards "this is the end."  And I was hurt.  I was pissed.  He'd known for awhile that family wasn't my thing.  He told me often how much he appreciated the time I spent with his family, because he knew family wasn't my thing.  I'd spent so much time saying "yes" to family events that I would have preferred to say "no" to, because I was terrified that saying "no" would lead to the demise of the only real relationship I'd ever had.  Turns out I was right.

I tapped my phone hard against my thigh as I thought back to where everything tipped from mostly perfect to out of control.  I'd wanted to go to Wisconsin for Liv and Brody's engagement party, because it had been so long since I'd spent much time with them, and I thought it was really cool that her parents were throwing this together on such short notice for them.  When I mentioned it to Damien, he reminded me of his sister's big 4th of July party that weekend.  And while it was simply that--a reminder--I was too nervous about what might happen if I said, "There's always next year for that.  This engagement party won't happen again.  I'll see you when I get back from Wisconsin."

And honestly?  I realize now, looking back, that if I'd just said that, it probably would have been fine.  I can't imagine Damien being upset for me wanting to make that choice.  I really can't.  But instead, I said "okay, never mind."  After that, the resentment started.  In the (less than!) two weeks between Lauren's phone call about the engagement party and the weekend of the 4th of July, Damien had invited me to two family dinners, one family outing to the zoo, and one family brunch.  I'd gone each time, and each time my resentment had grown.

By the time he'd suggested we have dinner with his mom on Friday night, the night before we'd been planning to spend the entire next day with his entire family and all his sister's wretched friends, I was so sick and tired of family things that I snapped.

"Do we have to?" I'd whined.

He looked at me in surprise.  "No, that's why I was asking," he replied mildly.  "We don't have to, but my mom asked me, so I thought I'd ask you."

In a way, it was almost worse than him insisting that we go.  Because in that moment, what I really wanted was for him to say, "You know what?  We've been spending so much time with my family lately, let's just have a nice evening to ourselves."  But he didn't say that.  Instead, he left the illusion of choice to me.  Because if I chose to go, he'd be happy and I'd be irritated.  But if I chose not to, I was choosing against his family.

"I don't want to," I snapped mulishly.

He raised his eyebrows.  "That's fine," he replied evenly.  "I'll see you after dinner then?"

I gaped at him.  "Seriously?" I asked, my voice rising to a pitch that brought me dangerously close to "shrieking" territory.

He narrowed his eyes briefly before rearranging his face into the placid, unreadable expression I knew so well.  "Yes, seriously.  You don't want to go.  I do.  So it makes sense that I go to dinner, and I'll see you afterwards.  Is that okay?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want," I muttered.  I wasn't even aware at the time that I was acting like a child.  Having never been in a real, somewhat healthy relationship, I'd never learned how to fight fair.  Damien and I rarely even argued...probably mostly because I agreed with things I didn't want to agree to in a desperate attempt to not upset the balance.

"Well, I'm not going to go if you're going to be pissed about it," he replied.  His calm demeanor was making me even more frustrated.  How could be so calm when I was so...not?  Did this not matter to him?

"No, instead you'll just stay here and resent me for making you do something you didn't want to do," I grumbled.

His face changed.  It went from stoically calm, to sudden understanding, to immense disappointment.  "Kinsley, is that how you feel about going to all my family things?" he asked softly.  "Resentful, because you think I'm making do you something you don't want to do?"

I considered lying.  Maybe I should have.  But sort-of-lying had gotten me into this mess, and it certainly couldn't improve it--even I knew enough about communication to know that.  "Yes," I murmured.  I couldn't meet his eyes when I said it.  I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, bracing myself for impact.

"Wow," Damien replied.  "Wow."  I risked a glance up at him, and I saw that he was truly surprised.  He'd had no idea how I felt about all the time we spent with his family.  I bit my lip, wondering if I could have prevented this by telling him sooner.  Probably.

We were both silent for a solid minute.  Then Damien said, "I can't believe you've felt like this, for how long?"

I shook my head.  "Not long, really.  It's mostly been since I told you about Liv and Brody's engagement party."

"Kinsley, I wouldn't have dreamed of stopping you from going."

"I didn't know that!" I exclaimed.  "I mean, look what you said tonight when I didn't want to go to the 6th family event in two weeks!  You were fine with it, but you were going anyway.  What if I wanted to just spend the evening with you?  What if I'd had something planned?"

"Did you?"

"No!  But that's not the point!"  I sucked in a ragged breath and swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.  I was not going to cry right now.

We launched into a two hour argument/discussion that covered the following topics: my inability to communicate effectively, the way his refusal to show emotion during these conversations made me crazy, why I felt the need to mindlessly agree to everything, and his (weird, in my opinion) desire to do everything with his family.

And then, after two hours had passed, he dropped this bombshell: "My family means everything to me, and I understand that you don't feel the same.  But this isn't something that's likely to change much, so if it's something that you're having a hard time with, maybe we don't make as much sense together as we thought we did."

All I could do was stare at him for a really long time.  When I finally tried to talk, I made an unintelligible squeak.  I cleared my throat and said, "But I want to make it work.  We do make sense."  I fought to keep the desperation out of my voice.  I looked at him, and he returned my gaze calmly.

"Kins, baby, I don't want you to be miserable and resentful of something that isn't going to change," he said gently.

That statement pushed me over the edge.  I stood up and yelled, "You don't get to decide if I'm miserable!  You don't get to decide if I'm going to be resentful!  What does it matter to you, if you're blissfully ignorant?  Which, by the way, you clearly are!  And also?  What makes me most mad is that you can sit there and tell me that 'maybe we don't make sense' with the same expression on your face that you'd have telling me that's 76 fucking degrees outside!"  And then, childishly, I stomped up the stairs and into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.  I actually laughed out loud to myself about the irony: he hadn't ended up going to dinner with his mom after all, because he was too busy arguing with me about my resentment over dinner with his mom.  I threw myself on my bed, still fully clothed (shoes and all), and curled tightly around my pillow, my back to the door.

A couple minutes later there was a soft knock on my door.  "What?" I snapped.

The door creaked open slowly and then I heard footsteps approaching my bed.  I tensed as the mattress moved when Damien sat down.  I didn't move, laying there stubbornly with my back to him.  He stroked my hair, then ran his hand gently down my back.  "I'm going to go home," he said softly.  "I think we both need to take some time to decide what we want.  Can we check in in a couple days?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth.  I knew I was behaving like a teenager, and I didn't want to make it worse.  "Okay," he said.  He stroked my hair again, smoothing it out of my face, then kissed my cheek tenderly.  "Kinsley...I love you."

I bit my lip, wanting him to go so I could cry in peace.  "I love you too," I whispered.  His hand left my back, and the mattress moved once more as he stood.  His footsteps stopped, and I imagined him pausing in the doorway, watching me.  Then the door shut and his footsteps faded down the stairs.  As soon as the front door shut, a sob wracked my body, and I shuddered as I cried into my pillow.

I spent the entire next day in bed, crying off and on, and barely dragged myself out of bed to answer the door for the pizza I'd ordered.  The delivery guy took one look at me and rushed me through signing the credit card receipt.  I hadn't looked in a mirror, but I was sure I was simultaneously the most pathetic and horrifying thing he'd ever seen.  I ate my pizza in the dark, mentally beating myself up for fucking this all up with my lack of communication and childish temper tantrum.

I was back in bed by 8pm, drugged with Melatonin and Benedryl, hoping for a decent night's sleep.  When I woke up Sunday morning, I gave myself a silent pep talk and pulled myself together.  I scrubbed the remains of Friday's mascara off my cheeks (so gross), pulled my badly-in-need-of-washing hair into a ponytail, and headed to the gym.  I pushed myself through a brutal spin class and then impulsively decided to stay for the yoga class that happened after.  By the time I dragged myself home, I felt much more like myself.

After a long, scaldingly hot shower, I pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a flowy black sleeveless top.  I put some product in my hair and let it air dry with its natural waves, then put on some makeup.  Then I sat down on the edge of my bed and called Damien.

I was surprised when he answered.  "Hi," he said warmly.

I repeated his greeting hesitantly, then asked, "Can I see you today?"

"Yes," he agreed.  "Can you give me a couple hours?  How about 3:00ish?  Do you want me to come over, or...?"

"That works," I replied quickly.  We hung up, and I cleaned my already clean house to keep me occupied.

Damien rang my doorbell at 2:59, and it was quite possibly the first time I've ever been ready on time for something in my entire adult life.  When I opened the door, I hesitated, then threw my arms around him.  He hugged me back tightly, rubbing my back and breathing in the scent of my hair.  We stood there in the doorway for a long time, clinging to each other desperately.

After we sat down, we looked at each other for several seconds without saying anything, then we both started talking at the same time.  "Can I?" I asked, when we both stopped abruptly.  He nodded.  "I know your family is important to you, and that makes it important to me.  I want to make this work.  I know I need to do a better job of communicating what I want from you, and I'll try to do that.  And I'm sorry for acting like such a child on Friday night." I stopped and watched him.  He looked sad, and the knot that was already in my stomach tightened.

"Thank you," he started, and I thought that was an odd thing to say.  "I'm worried that we're going to trade off resenting each other forever," he admitted.  "I'm not willing to give up the time I spend with my family--"

"I'm not asking you to," I interrupted.

He held up a hand, silently asking me to wait.  "I know you're not.  But now that I know how you really feel, I'm going to feel internal pressure to do it.  I don't want to do that to you, and I don't want to do that to me."

"Damien..." I said softly, confused.  "Are you...?  What are you saying?  We can figure this out."

"Maybe we can," he replied.  "But I'm not sure I want to."

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.  "You don't want to?" I parroted back in disbelief.

"Not like that," he amended hurriedly.  "I want to in the sense that if there is truly a way to make this work, I want to do it.  But I'm worried that we're both going to make sacrifices and compromises in an attempt to put a band-aid on this, and that's all it will end up being in the end--a band-aid.  Not a sustainable solution.  Maybe...maybe I just need some more time to think."

I didn't want more time to think.  In fact, I didn't want to think at all.  I bit my lip as my eyes filled with tears, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him.  He moved over to the couch I was sitting on and put his arms around me, and without thinking I let myself relax against his chest.  How do I fix this? I thought desperately, as I sat there fighting my tears.

When I was sure that I could look at him without crying, I raised my head.  I was determined to remind him of one of the many reasons we made sense.  I pressed my lips to his, turning my body and pressing it against his.  He responded automatically, parting his lips for my tongue and running his hands down my back to my hips.  I shifted to straddle him, and I gripped the back of his neck with one hand and the front of his shirt with the other.  He kissed me back desperately until I began to move my hips against his.  Then he stopped, gently gripping my arms and shifting me slightly away from him.

"No, wait," he said, breathlessly.  "This isn't a good idea."

I shattered.  This was my last ditch effort.  It wasn't the most solid plan, but sex was the only way I knew how to fix things, how to get people to do what I wanted them to do.  And now, not only had my only plan not worked, but I was being rejected on top of it.  I stood up quickly, lost my balance, and sat down hard on the floor.  Then I started to cry.  "Kinsley," Damien said, kneeling down on the floor next to me and stroking my hair.  "I'm sorry, but I don't want to cloud either of our judgment with sex."

"Stop it," I snapped, swatting his hand away.

He withdrew his hand quickly from my hair and sat back on his heels, breathing out a frustrated sigh.  I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my forehead on them, no longer willing to fight for control.  "Kins," he said again.  "I just need more time."  I didn't respond.  I was gasping in sharp, shallow breaths between whole-body-shaking sobs, and it was all I could do to continue doing that.  There was no way words were happening.  "I'm sorry, Kinsley."

I still didn't respond; still couldn't respond.  He took my lack of response as a dismissal, and maybe it was.  Taking a chance, he smoothed his hand over my hair again, then kissed the top of my head.  Then he stood and--leaving me in a crying heap on my living room floor--he crossed to the front door and left.

Family Oriented

As wonderful as our weekend had been, I was a little relieved to get on the plane to head back to Denver on Sunday.  I wanted nothing more that to lay in the tub and relax for awhile, then sleep in our own bed.  "Did you have a good weekend?" Brody asked me, once we were settled into our seats on the plane.  He took my hand and kissed it before settling our now-entwined hands on the arm rest between us.

"I did," I said, smiling and leaning my head back to rest it on the seat.  "I hope it wasn't too crazy for you.  Thank you for pushing for it."

"I had a great time," he insisted.  "You guys really know how to celebrate the 4th."

I ended up sleeping off and on for most of the flight.  Brody shook me gently awake when we began our final descent, and I was wide awake by the time we got off the plane.  I was thankful we didn't have luggage to wait for and within ten minutes of deplaning we were driving out of the parking area.

While we were on our way home from the airport, Brody got a work phone call.  He swore as he hung up, then glanced over at me.  "Where to?" I asked him wryly, having gotten the general gist of the conversation.

"Chicago," he replied.  "Maybe.  I might not have to.  We'll see."  This weekend had been the start of Brody's week to be on call, but Neil had insisted on doing it for the holiday weekend to thank Brody for doing it when he had been tending to his sick mother.  But now we were back, and Brody was back on call and would probably be heading out to Chicago in the morning, apparently.

When we got home, Brody hauled both our carry on suitcases upstairs and then went down to his office.  I immediately filled the bathtub with water and a bath bomb and submerged myself in the hot, scented water up to my chin.

I had been relaxing in the tub for nearly an hour when the bathroom door opened.  Brody stepped into the bathroom, now wearing just a pair of basketball shorts, and held a towel out to me.  "Almost done?" he asked hopefully, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"I can be," I replied, letting my eyes drift down from his face, over his chest, and across his hard stomach.  I sat up and fiddled with the drain until the water started to disappear, then stood.  Brody watched me, his eyes nowhere near my face, and I loved watching him look at me and knowing that I turned him on.

"Good," he said gruffly, stepping over and wrapping the towel around me.  He kissed me hard as he pressed the towel against me, gently wiping away traces of the foam and color from the bath bomb.  He pulled away and held out a hand to me and I took it to steady myself as I got out of the tub.  He immediately pulled me against him and pressed his mouth to my neck, kissing, sucking, and gently biting.  I took a step towards the door, pulling him with me, and we stumbled towards the bedroom, still locked together.  He stopped in the doorway between bathroom and bedroom, pressing me against the doorframe before sinking to his knees in front of me.  His tongue on my inner thigh made me shiver, and I pushed one hand into his hair, while using the other to grab the doorframe above my head to steady myself.

When my legs started to shake, Brody pulled one of them over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around the other, supporting my weight and keeping them steadier.  I tipped my head back against the doorframe and moaned, tugging on his hair as I came.  Once I caught my breath, Brody picked me and carried me to the bed, flipping me over so I was laying on my stomach as soon as he set me down.  His lips trailed down my spine as he slid his shorts off.  He pushed into me and put his lips on the back of my neck, sucking and biting there and on my shoulder.

When he rolled off me, we both laid silently sprawled across the bed, catching our breath.  After about a minute, Brody rolled back over towards me and trailed his fingers over my back, tracing random patterns against my skin.  "Are you going to Chicago?" I asked sleepily, keeping perfectly still so I didn't discourage his touch.

"Yeah, in the morning," he replied.  He slid his fingers across my back for awhile longer, then tugged me over against him.  I laid with my head on his chest, matching my breaths to his and relaxing even further.

"Want me to take you to the airport?"  I had taken Monday off.

"You don't have to," he replied, shaking his head.

I lifted my head and looked at him.  "I want to."

"My flight leaves at 8:20," he warned me.

That was actually almost enough to convince me to abandon my offer, but I shrugged and said, "That's okay."

But when Brody's alarm went off the next morning, I almost regretted insisting on taking him.  Then I realized I was being a brat and dragged myself out of bed.  I decided that I would have a productive day instead of a lazy day and packed my gym bag, then checked out the fridge and made a quick grocery list.

I was throwing together some breakfast sandwiches by the time Brody came downstairs showered, packed, and ready to go.  "Is this real?" he teased me, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my cheek.  "This isn't actually my non-morning-person girlfriend up and making me breakfast for a change, is it?"

"No, it's not," I retorted.  "It's actually your non-morning-person fiancée up and making you breakfast for change."

He chuckled.  "Touché."  He took the breakfast sandwich and travel mug of coffee that I handed him.  I grabbed my tumbler of iced coffee, double checked to make sure the stove and Keurig were off, and then headed towards the door.

Brody drove, giving me a little more time to wake up.  I actually offered to drive for once, but he was content to do it, so I let him.  When we got to the airport, we both got out so I could get into the driver's seat.  I hugged him and said goodbye, and we parted ways.  I drove back into town and went straight to the gym.  After my workout and a quick shower, I headed for the grocery store.

When I got home, I put the groceries away, threw in a load of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed the main level of the house, and cleaned the sliding glass door because it was embarrassingly disgusting.  When I was finished, I flopped on the couch and reached for my phone.  Lauren and Alex weren't coming back from Wisconsin until tomorrow, so we weren't having our usual Monday night dinner.  I called Kinsley, hoping she'd answer.  She did.

"I miss you," I said in response to her greeting.  "Have dinner with me sometime this week?"

She laughed.  "I miss you too," she replied.  "And I'd love to.  For real, I mean.  I know I keep bailing on you guys, and I'm sorry I couldn't make it out to Wisconsin for your party.  What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing at all.  I'd love to have dinner!"

We made plans to meet up around 7, and once I folded the laundry, I figured I'd been productive enough and laid down to take a nap.  I didn't end up actually sleeping, but I enjoyed relaxing with the bed to myself.  I missed Brody when he was gone, and I never slept well the first night, but after that, I remembered how awesome it can be sleeping by yourself in big, comfy bed.

I got up and got ready to meet Kinsley, then drove into town.  She was always late, so I didn't bother to hurry.  I still beat her by 15 minutes.  When she finally came in, I was seated at a table with a drink, scrolling through Facebook on my phone.  "Hi!" she greeted me brightly.  "I'd apologize for being late, but..." she shrugged.

I laughed.  "Don't worry about it," I replied.  I stood and hugged her.  Once we were seated, I leveled a serious look at her.  "Where the hell have you been?"

She looked sheepish.  "I've been...around?"  I cocked an eyebrow.  "I'd been spending a lot of time with Damien.  We were talking about moving in together, but then we got in a really huge fight, and I don't know what's going to happen."

"Oh, Kins," I said sympathetically.  "When?"

"This weekend," she responded, letting her eyes fall down to the tabletop.  Our server came to take our orders, and when he left, she looked back up at me.  She looked like she was fighting tears.  "He's just so family oriented, and I'm...not.  And it's hard for me to constantly be doing things with his family.  I'm not used to it.  And I cannot stand his sister!  She's such a spoiled, entitled little brat, and I can't stand to be around her."

"Is that what you guys fought about?" I asked.

Kinsley nodded miserably.  "I guess I can't even call it a fight.  I mean, it started as a fight.  He wanted to do something with his family, and I suggested we do something else.  He wasn't into it, I threw a fit like a child, and two hours later we were having a very calm 'is this a good fit?' conversation."

"What?!" I yelped, loudly enough that the couple at the table next to us looked at me.  "Sorry," I muttered.  "You can't be serious.  You guys have been inseparable for months.  He's been so good to you.  How can it suddenly not be a good fit?"

"I don't know," she mumbled.  "He was so understanding when I told him about my family.  And I've tried to be willing to do whatever with his, but I just reached my limit.  And he was all, 'If family isn't important to you, I don't know that we make sense together, because family is the most important thing to me.'"

"Damn him," I said angrily.  "That's not fair."

She shrugged.  "It's not, but if that's how he feels, then I don't want to force him to stay with me."  She took a long drink of her cocktail, then said, "Can we talk about something else?  Like about this October wedding you're having?"

I felt weird talking about my upcoming wedding when Kinsley was wondering if she was in the process of breaking up with her boyfriend, but she insisted on talking about it, asking me several questions and sounding excited.  After that, we talked about our jobs and Brody's job for awhile.  It was really great to catch up with her, and I was glad I'd called.  I hugged her extra tightly when we left and demanded that she come to happy hour on Thursday.  She promised she would, and we both headed for home.