Foster’s jaw tightened, and he avoided my eyes. “No,” he replied. “How about you?”
“Not a word,” I said quietly. I’d checked my phone when I first got up, and then again after my shower, but she hadn’t tried to contact me since she’d left yesterday.
“I guess she’ll get in touch with us when she’s ready,” Foster said in a strained voice, and I wished I’d never brought her up at all.
When Foster looked at me again, his expression softened, and he smiled once more. “So what are your plans for today?” he asked.
“Definitely gotta work on that Psych paper. That’ll probably take a good part of the day,” I said. I wanted to get that paper finished in plenty of time to spend the evening with Foster. “Are you going to be around here today?”
“Yeah. I’m going to have to make some calls, talk to some friends who’ve gone through a divorce so I can get a recommendation for a good attorney,” he said, and suddenly he looked exhausted, as if he found the task ahead of him overwhelming.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. And I was sorry to see the raw pain on his face. I wanted to soothe him, to comfort him somehow.
But Foster was the one who tried to reassure me. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said, making it clear he wanted to change the subject. “I’ll probably do a little reading, try to take it easy before I have to go out of town tomorrow.”
“Shit, I forgot about that,” I said, trying not to look as crestfallen as I felt. Foster had mentioned earlier in the week that he needed to travel for work, and at the time, I hadn’t thought much of it. His job required occasional out-of-town trips, and Mom normally drove him to the airport and then picked him up when he arrived back home. Now the idea of him being gone for several days filled me with a deep disappointment I struggled to hide.
“Yeah, I have to be at the airport at two tomorrow afternoon. Then I’ll get back into town Thursday evening,” Foster said.
“I’ll give you a ride tomorrow,” I quickly offered. “I know Mom normally takes you, but that’s out of the question now…”
He smiled gently. “Are you sure? If you’re busy…”
“Not at all. And I’ll be glad to pick you up on Thursday,” I forced my own smile, though I was already thinking of how quiet, how lonely, the house would be with Foster gone for several days. Clearing my throat, I tried to choose my next words carefully. “I heard Mom say that she planned to call you on Monday, to discuss…” I struggled to finish the sentence. “What you two should do next.”
I noticed Foster’s eyes flash with anger. “She knows I’ll be out of town; she’ll just have to wait till I’m done with meetings if she wants to talk. After all, I haven’t heard a damn thing from her, so the state of our marriage certainly doesn’t appear to be a priority for her right now.”
I quickly nodded my agreement, all the while swearing to myself that this would be the last time I brought up Mom today. “I just worry about her hassling you during your trip,” I said softly.
Foster gave me another one of his reassuring smiles. “I can handle your mom.”
He went back to eating his breakfast, and I was glad to see that his appetite was better than it had been last night, when he preferred to have bourbon for his dinner. I polished off the rest of my omelet, then finished my coffee.
After I carried my dirty dishes to the sink, I looked over at Foster once more. He’d finished his omelet and was now sipping the last of his coffee. He still appeared somber, no doubt thinking of all he would have to do in the days and weeks ahead. Not only was he working a high-stress job, but now he also had an impending divorce to deal with.
That urge to make him feel better came over me yet again, and I slowly approached the table where he sat. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and I stood behind him so I could place my hands on his shoulders.
I could feel the tightness in his muscles. “You’re tense,” I remarked, then added, “which is definitely understandable.”
I began massaging his shoulders, trying to work out that tension with my hands. Foster released a low groan of pleasure, and it didn’t take long before he was relaxing beneath my touch.
“That feels really nice,” he breathed.
I would have been happy to stand there all day, as long as he wanted me to. When he let his head fall back, his eyelids fluttering closed, I resisted the overpowering urge to lower my mouth to his. Before I was foolish enough to succumb to that temptation, Foster leaned his head forward, rolling his neck.
When his shoulders felt nice and loose, I slid my fingers upward, through his hair, so I could massage his scalp. He rewarded me with another contented moan. I realized I was actually trembling, desperate for even more intimate contact with him. I imagined how it would feel to run my fingers through his hair as he kissed me, our tongues meeting…
I was now hard, my erection uncomfortable in my jeans, and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing faster as my pulse raced.
Of course Foster had to have known the effect he was having on me. Slowly, gently, he eased himself forward and away from me. When he started to stand, I quickly stepped back from his chair. Our eyes met as he turned toward me, and his smile was almost apologetic, as if he regretted letting me touch him.
Yet he thanked me again in a husky voice, and I hurriedly nodded before gathering up his dishes. Carrying them to the sink, I willed myself to calm down. Why the fuck did I have to get so damned turned on from a mere touch?
As I washed up our few dishes, I continued to berate myself until I heard Foster drawing closer to me. I couldn’t help but tense while I anticipated what he might say.
Instead of speaking, he slipped his arms around me, and though my eyes widened in surprise when he pulled me back against him, I quickly relaxed in his arms. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Landon,” he whispered, and I felt his lips against my hair.
I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace. “I just want to make you happy,” I murmured.
“You do,” Foster assured me, and I felt him squeeze me a little tighter. “It’s just that I want to be careful with you.”
Part of me wanted to turn to face him, to look into his eyes while I told him that he didn’t need to be careful. But another part of me wanted to stay in his arms forever.
Before I could move or even speak, Foster released me. I decided to remain facing the sink so he wouldn’t catch sight of my erection.
“I’m going to go make those phone calls,” he said, already heading out of the room.
“I’ll be in my room working on that paper,” I said over my shoulder, “if you need anything.”
“I’ll try to keep out of your hair so you can concentrate.”
When he was gone, I finished tidying up the kitchen, then reluctantly went upstairs. I knew he would be in his small office, which was just off the living room, and I wanted to give him privacy while he talked to his trusted friends and revealed that his marriage to my mom had fallen apart.
I spent the rest of the morning in my room, agonizing over every paragraph of the paper I wrote. I enjoyed the Psych class and really liked my professor, and I wanted to do a good job. The day grew later, and by mid-afternoon, I decided to take a break and make myself a late lunch, or maybe it was an early dinner.