You May Kiss the Bridesmaid - Camilla Isley Page 0,14
I’m not usually comfortable with. The fact doesn’t escape my host’s eyes, and he throws me a hungry look. Well, pal, you’re the one who wanted to waste time with stupid feet rubs. He turns the other chaise lounge at a ninety-degree angle to mine and sits on the edge, patting his thighs expectantly.
I give him my right foot.
Warm, dry hands swallow my foot in their grip. Either my feet have shrunk, or his hands are really big. The moment his fingers start to move in slow, soothing circles, I relax against the back of the recliner. Despite my initial reservations, I close my eyes and let out a moan of appreciation. Maybe a foot massage wasn’t such a terrible idea.
Until the masseur disrupts my quiet enjoyment by starting to talk.
“So, are you going to tell me what sent you bolting for my room?”
I lift a single eyelid. “Actually, I was planning on enjoying my massage without having upsetting conversations.”
“Sorry, I play by different rules.”
“Really?” I turn my full attention to him. “When you promised me a week of fun, I thought the purpose was for me to forget about my problems, not to get the third degree about them. Why do you want to know?”
Archie rubs my heel. “You’re a riddle, and I’m curious.”
“A riddle, how?”
“I know your sister pretty well, and you’re nothing like her.”
“Just because we look the same doesn’t mean we are the same.”
“No, okay. But you don’t seem like someone who would—”
“Stab her best friend in the back? Have an affair?” I offer, a bitter smile parting my lips. “Admittedly, those weren’t in my thirty before thirty list of things to do.”
“So, what happened?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“I dated the same guy throughout high school, college, and a few years after that. When I left it, the dating world was all about meet-cutes and school dances. No iPhones. No Facebook. Fast forward fifteen years and the romance world had gone to Tinder, Bumble, Asparagus, or whatever dating app is the flavor of the month. I went from talking about marriage and kids to trying to avoid receiving unsolicited pictures of strangers’ genitalia.”
Archie chuckles. “I’m pretty sure there’s no dating app called Asparagus.”
“This isn’t funny. I spent months running into guys that… Well, guys like you.”
“You mean handsome and dashing?”
“In part,” I admit. “It’s not that hard to find a pretty face. But they were all interested in a hookup and nothing else, like two weeks was the standard max expiration date for a relationship. I woke up in a world where talking about commitment before forty was sacrilege. One guy never calling me back after we spent the night together was enough to convince me I’d never meet anyone, that I’d die alone with the proverbial ten cats.”
“And how did that translate into sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend?”
“We ran into each other, had lunch, and it was… unexpected, easy, fun, safe. New and familiar at the same time. Like what I’d imagine it’d feel to discover you suddenly have feelings for an old friend. And I mistook being comfortable for being in love. And then I came up with a million excuses to justify what I was doing. Johnathan and Lana were wrong for each other, nothing should get in the way of true love, she’d be better off with someone else…”
“Which she ended up being.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t doing Lana any favors. I was being selfish, full stop. I was doing whatever I wanted to do at the moment, and damn the consequences.”
“Doesn’t sound like the worst way to live.”
“Ah, but then you really have to not care about the consequences, ’cause karma is a pesky bitch and it catches up.”
“Has it?”
The same pain and shame that wrecked me when Johnathan called to announce Lana had found us out hit me in the gut as if it happened only yesterday. Winter disowning me as a sister. The fallout with all my friends. And the breakup. The memories all swirl in my head, making me dizzy.
“You’re depressing me,” I say, trying to claim my foot back. “I should go.”
I pull with my leg, but he keeps my foot hostage in his hands. “Nuh-uh, sorry, my bad. No more sad topics.” Archie circles his thumbs under the sole of my foot in a motion so sublime it threatens to make my eyes roll in the back of my head. I can’t help but sink back on