Nine-tenths of the Law

Chapter Twenty-one

It was nearly midnight when I finally pulled into Nathan’s driveway. As I got out of the car and went up the front steps, I swore if that projector cut into my sex life again, it was going to learn the meaning of “percussive maintenance”.

Nathan greeted me at the door with a tired smile and a brief kiss that tasted like smoke. Recent smoke.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, and followed him into the kitchen.

“So what happened tonight? At the theatre?” he asked, pouring coffee as I took my jacket off.

I sighed. “Fucking projector. Crapped out completely this time, and we’ve got a big indie film festival this weekend, so we finally bit the bullet and moved it to one of the smaller auditoriums.”

“I thought you fixed it yesterday.”

“I did,” I said. “I fix the bastard three or four times a week these days. Now I think it’s done for good.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t had to stay late to take care of it more often, then,” he said.

I shrugged. “Well, it-” Then I stopped. I replayed what he’d just said in my mind. No, there couldn’t have been a thinly veiled accusation in his tone. Clearing my throat, I shifted my weight. “It doesn’t always break down at night, you know.”

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded, eyeing me with something that looked a hell of a lot like suspicion. “So what’s wrong with it, anyway?”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if that tired smile from earlier wasn’t tired after all but half-hearted. Forced. “Are you actually curious about the projector, or are you trying to catch me in a lie?”

He blinked, then folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “Should I be trying to catch you in a lie?”

“Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead with my thumb and forefinger. “Nathan, it-”

“Is there anything I should know about?”

I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. I was entirely too exhausted and frustrated to be cross-examined by a damned lawyer. “I could give you a rundown of how to repair a projector, but it would probably bore you into a coma.”

His lips tightened into that almost-snarling line I remembered from the night we met. “Call me paranoid,” he said. “But I’ve heard the ‘I have to work late’ line more than once.”

“And you do know that some people do have to work late, right?”

“Some do,” he said, glaring at me. “And some don’t.”

“What do you want me to say? I’ve given you absolutely no reason to believe I’d fuck around. What do I have to do to convince you to trust me?”

“I don’t know, Zach,” he said. “I mean, look at how things got started with-”

“That doesn’t matter!” I snapped. “Jake cheated. On you and on me. I don’t know how many ways I can convince you that I didn’t know about you, but-” Something shifted in his expression, the skepticism in his eyes deepening, and it infuriated me.

“How do I know you’re not playing me for an idiot right along with him?”

My jaw went slack. “What? You think I’m cheating, and you think I’m doing it with him?”

He shrugged, the intensity in his glare not faltering for a second.

“Christ, Nathan,” I said, barely containing my anger. “If I still wanted that bastard, do you really think I’d have ditched him in the bar and come after you that night?”

Dropping his gaze, he said nothing.

“Don’t you get it? Why do you think I came after you that night?”

“Why did you?”

“Because I wanted to apologize. Because I felt bad. I still do.” I shifted my weight. “But I’m not going to keep apologizing if it’s falling on deaf ears. I’m sorry you were hurt, but so was I. You’re blaming the wrong guy.” I took a breath, trying to keep my temper in check, but I was close to losing it. “I told you in the beginning. I run a goddamned business. Late nights happen.”

“Do you know how many times he was ‘working late’ and actually went to you?”

“And how many times have I lied about working late to go to him?” I threw back. “He was the liar, Nathan, not me.” He started to respond, but I wasn’t finished. “We aren’t even in an exclusive relationship, for God’s sake. This was supposed to be a rebound thing, not playing for keeps. What would I possibly have to gain by lying to you if I was sleeping with someone else? If I wanted to see other people, I’d fucking tell you.”

“So are you?”

“No!” I threw up my hands. “Fuck, how much clearer can I make it?” I paused, trying to calm down. Through my teeth, I said, “Let me ask you this: Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? Have I given you any reason to think I’m lying to you?”

“No, you haven’t, but-”

“When does this stop being about Jake and start being about us?”

“If you’d spent four years with someone, only to find out they’d been fucking cheating on you for God only knows how long, you’d be a bit suspicious, too.”

“And you seem to forget that I was cheated on, too.”

He snorted. “Try living through that for four years.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I clenched my jaw. “Because I only dealt with it for six months, it doesn’t matter? It didn’t hurt? It means I’m just as guilty as he is?”

And it just continued, back and forth, around and around, neither of us willing to back down nor cut the other any slack. All the while, as our voices rose, something in the back of my mind told me there was no point. This wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. I shouldn’t have had nearly enough invested in this little fling to bother fighting like this. I didn’t understand what drove me to keep arguing. What did I possibly have to gain? Then again, it was probably just stubbornness. I could argue anyone into the ground. In fact, I’d long been told I should have been a lawyer, and here I was arguing with a lawyer.

It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore. It just mattered whose stubbornness could outlast whose, and I wasn’t about to give up easily, particularly not when my integrity was called into question. I had nothing to lose except my pride.

Did I?

Why, then, did my heart skip every time his eyes darted toward the door? Why did I feel like my entire world hung in the balance whenever he paused?

And still it escalated until, even though we were just inches apart, standing toe to toe, I couldn’t hear him anymore. I couldn’t hear him over myself and I couldn’t hear myself over him. Everything we said disappeared into shapeless noise, abstract strings of words that didn’t amount to anything because no one was listening.

Something in my mind begged us to stop, to quiet the anger and just listen to each other, but neither of us backed down. The only thing that ever stopped either of us was the need to pause and inhale, but that took only a split second each time.

Something had to give. Someone had to stop this. One of us. Either of us. Somehow, some way, this had to-

I kissed him.