Page 68 of Bean

“Right now, I’d settle for a heck of a lot less complicated.”

He patted my thigh again. Nash was such a tactile guy. “You’ll figure it all out, Bean. You have time. It’s not like there’s a deadline on you and Jarek.”

“You’re full of wisdom today, aren’t you? You should put that on a Hallmark card. Make some money off it.”

His laughter rang out in the car, rich and booming. “I’ll take that under advisement. Now close your eyes and take a nap, kid. We still have forty-five minutes to go, so perfect for a little extra rest for you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JAREK

“I’ll be there in about half an hour,” Andrei said into the phone. “Sorry, there was an accident on the bridge, and it fucked my whole day.”

I understood a little too well. “It’s fine. I have the keys, and I won’t touch anything where the paint is still drying.”

Andrei laughed. “Touch whatever you want. You’re the one who has to live with it.”

I felt like those words were the motto of my life right then. I was the one who had to live with it. The house, my choices, my friendships…

Bean.

I’d texted Bean a couple of times after leaving his house, and Nash had called to let me know he was still recovering but was feeling a lot better and would be heading back to work this week. But I hadn’t heard his voice since then, and we hadn’t made any solid plans to see each other.

Was it my fault? Had I done all the wrong things? I was too afraid to ask. I wasn’t ready to hear I was the one responsible for his life taking a bad turn.

Angling my tires away from the curb, I set my parking brake and then stepped out of the car. Luckily, my street didn’t havetoo much of an incline. I wasn’t ancient yet, but my hips were starting to feel a little arthritic, and I wanted to make this place my home for a long, long while.

I stared at the front of the townhouse and sighed. I could hear the bay behind me, lapping at the shore. I could smell brine on the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, someone was cooking something with a fish sauce that reminded me I was starving and hadn’t eaten well over the last few days. My appetite was shot after the whole thing with Bean.

I’d come home to clean up the half-cooked mess, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears. He’d scared the shit out of me, but what was worse was being so in the dark. I liked him. There was no denying it now. It was more than friendship, but that wasn’t what terrified me. It was the idea of letting him down.

I damn well knew the issues with Gio hadn’t been my fault. Not entirely. I said over and over that he and I weren’t just on different pages, we were in different books—and I was the stubborn one who had tried to make it work for longer than I should have.

But there’d been no saving our marriage. We were fundamentally incompatible, and it didn’t help that he was a raging asshole about it. We hadn’t talked much, but he hadn’t made the split very easy on me. It was almost like he got pleasure out of knowing I was hurting.

Ivy had said more than once that Gio wasn’t actually polyamorous.She was certain he was a narcissist and using it as a way to make me feel insecure and unloved in my own home.

“People who love more than one person don’t treat their partners the way he treats you. That’s emotional abuse, Jarek, whether or not you want to use that word.”

And I hated that she was right, but she was.We had plenty of friends in open marriages, and none of them were as miserableas I’d been or as unkind as Gio had been.So all that made me was a fool.

My only saving grace was that I hadn’t seen Gio since before the divorce. And that was something I could live with. The old, tender wounds would eventually heal, and someday, I’d forget the exact color of his eyes or what his cologne smelled like.And if I was very lucky, those memories would be replaced with an adorable Army veteran who always made me feel good about myself.

But I wasn’t brave enough to hope just yet.

Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I walked up to the front door and unlocked it. The place smelled overwhelmingly of chemicals—like fresh paint, lacquer, and whatever they used to seal the floor. And it didn’t look like my place at all.

At least, not the hovel I’d bought that needed to be gutted and redone. The holes in the walls were gone, and while the kitchen was nothing but empty space apart from a sink and one hanging cabinet, I could see what it was becoming.

A home. Or something like it.

My throat went a little tight as I turned in a circle. The stairs still looked pretty rickety, so I decided not to risk going up, but my bedroom was on the first floor. I peered through the heavy cherrywood French doors and could easily picture my things in there.

A new bed—which I desperately needed. A set of furniture that was all mine without Gio giving me shit about my tastes. I could hang whatever art I wanted and make space for my friends to come visit.

My life was finally starting to feel like it belonged to only me.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you.”