Fortunately, Tierney smiled again. “Yeah, well I kept my cool in this one, sorta. It was afterward that I freaked. It was with most of those same guys.”
The same guys as in that meeting with Ian. “No wonder it was so rough.”
“Yeah. I had a lame-ass plan . . .” He shook his head. “I should’ve had the counselor and the rest of my support network all set up. But really, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, it’s over, right?”
Dalton nodded. “Still, you should do that today. Find some more people to support you.”
“Yeah,” Tierney agreed. “Marty doesn’t think you’re the best person to be my main backup.”
Dalton almost missed the alarm that flashed across Tierney’s expression, because he was too surprised and hurt. Not that he should be hurt—he didn’t even know Marty. But by that token, how did this therapist know Dalton wasn’t the best person?
“I’d told him about you,” Tierney said quickly. “He said a lover isn’t the best support.”
“I’m not your lover.” There went his fluttery pulse again. “I mean, not really. Am I?” He couldn’t be, right?
“Fuck, I’m a dork,” Tierney moaned, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I told him you weren’t. He was saying that because you came up in my sessions. I, you know, told him I wanted you to be my lover, before—”
“We can’t,” Dalton said. His lungs hitched, nearly strangling his words. “Last night was just . . . benefits, right? We can’t do that again . . .”
Tierney swallowed and pushed up on his elbow. “Unless I get a better support network.”
“But . . .” He shook his head, trying to readjust what he’d thought with reality. “I thought we couldn’t get romantically involved because you’re working through—”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” Tierney waved his hand airily, cheeks darkening. “Not what I meant at all. Just, you know, I need some other help and maybe, um . . .”
“So get some other help,” Dalton said in a calm voice, all out of proportion to how hard his heart had started to beat.
“I will,” Tierney said, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Right away.”
After Dalton left, Tierney found himself highly motivated to call the drug and alcohol counselor he was supposed to have made an appointment with as soon as he got home. He had to leave a message since it was Saturday. Then he called his sister-in-law and arranged to meet her for lunch. Emily was one of the few people he’d been able to rely on over the years, even if her husband was a douche.
“What’s this about?” she asked. “You already apologized.”
“It’s about other shit I should have done when I came home. Like, found some backup for if I slip and start drinking again.” He tried to sound all casual, but they knew each other well enough that she probably wasn’t fooled.
“Tierney, did you—”
“No. I didn’t, someone helped me out and I didn’t drink. But, like, I was supposed to have a whole support network and I never really set it up.” He cleared his throat. “Just him.”
“Him who? Oh my God, is this the guy you were kissing that day you left for—”
“Em, please, don’t,” he whined. “Not now.”
She cackled. “Oh, dearest brother-in-law, this lunch is going to be a lot of fun.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m totally looking forward to it.”
She was still laughing when he hung up.
He managed to think himself in circles before he had to go meet her. About Dalton, and what he’d meant when he’d said “so get some other help.” Tierney didn’t think the sense of urgency to do it was only his. There’d been too much intensity in Dalton’s voice and his eyes. Like, it was important to their friendship—whatever that might turn out to be—for Tierney to have other options for support.
Except the dude had just left after they got out of bed. He’d kissed Tierney good-bye, and said he’d see him “soon,” but turned down a cup of coffee and simply said he had to go.
No freaking brilliant conclusions slapped him smart before he showed up at the restaurant to find Emily waiting for him, grinning smugly. Like that cat in that book he couldn’t remember the title of. Some children’s classic that she probably read to his nieces.
The teasing about Dalton began immediately. Every time he repeated, “We’re just friends,” she laughed and pointed at his blush.
The worst part was when she got semiserious and said, “You were never like this when talking about women. You hardly mentioned them, period.”
Tierney shrugged and rearranged the lamb chop on his plate, because that needed doing.
“Nope,” she said, pointing at it with a fork. “I don’t buy that sort of avoidance tactic with my daughters or husband so it’s really not going to work for you.”
He shrugged again.
“You’re different, you know that?”
“Uh, yeah. State the obvious much?”
“Ah, and there’s the former Tierney we all knew and loved.” But she smiled at him, apparently not offended.
“Jesus.” He planted his elbows on the table and watched her a moment from behind his clasped hands. Like they offered some sort of protection. “Sorry.”
“You worked so hard to appear straight,” she mused.
Hands didn’t make much of a defense bunker, turned out. “Not with you. You’re my brother’s wife, I couldn’t, like, hump your leg as well.”
Em shook her head. “I used to watch you and wonder what the fuck you were up to. You were so obvious, and so over-the-top lecherous. At least I thought so.”
His stomach churned up some indigestion. That lamb chop would be coming home with him, completely unmolested by teeth. “I put on that act to hide behind, and I hated doing it, but it was like I couldn’t stop. Like I was addicted, even though I hated it.” And people he respected had watched him do it and hated it too.
“You know what, T? I may be one of the few women in the world that’s seen the real you, and I don’t think you’re a loser. Maybe a bit of a dick, though. Before.”
“I was that.” Still was, sometimes. Work in progress.
“At any rate.” She began twisting strands of linguine around the tines of her fork. “Now the rest of the world gets to know the guy I already saw.” She smiled like she’d given him a present.