It is, and it’s not lost on me that I won’t be seeing her again until the wedding. The one we’re both in and therefore will have a ton of wedding-related events to attend for. I’m going to have to work hard to try and get some time with her when she’s here. I’m not opposed to having my meddling sister help me with the act. I know Liv would be all over that, helping cover as we slip away together.
We spend another hour on the phone, talking as if we’ve known each other for years. It’s something I’ve never done. Talking on the phone has never been my thing, but with her being so far away, it’s quickly becoming ours. I don’t second-guess it, this pull I have when it comes to Jamie. Although our interactions have been limited, I know from just one night of lying next to her that she could quickly become an addiction.
Hell, maybe she already has.
“I should let you go,” I say after she yawns yet again.
“Yeah, I have some laundry to fold, and then I’m going to call it a night. I’ll talk to you soon?” she asks.
Is that hope in her voice?
“Yes,” I say with absolute certainty. “Sweet dreams, James.”
“Sweet dreams, Michael,” she whispers.
I wait, listening intently to her breathing on the other end. I refuse to end that connection.
Finally a soft chuckle falls from her lips. It’s music to my ears.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“This. Us. I feel like a damn teenager.”
“Glad to know it’s not just me,” I confess.
“I’ve never been in this situation. I’ve never wanted to hold onto a connection, even a phone call, so badly before in my entire life.”
I clear my throat to tell her yet again that she’s not alone when a laugh rips from her mouth again, reaching my ears. This one is deep, and I can picture her bent over, holding her belly.
“What did I miss?” I can feel the smile on my face just because of the simple fact that she’s happy.
“I just thought of something.”
“Okay?”
“It’s like those bad sitcoms, you know the ones—guy and girl on the phone and then the infamous “You hang up first” in a baby voice comes from one of them?” She’s laughing so hard she’s gasping for air.
I know exactly what she’s talking about, and I can’t help but laugh with her. When we finally get ourselves under control, I go for it. “You hang up first,” I say, my voice soft and calm.
“Michael Wallace, what am I going to do with you?”
“I have a few ideas.” I’m dead serious. I have more than a few ideas for things we could do together. Not just sexually, although I admit those are at the top of my list.
“I bet you do,” she chuckles. “All right, country, I’m off to bed. Sleep well.”
“Night, city.” I hear her exhale and then the line goes dead. I can’t help the smug smile. She hung up first.
Over the next few weeks, Jamie and I fall into a routine. We text all day long, and on my nights off, we talk on the phone. On weekend nights, if she’s still up when I get home, she calls me. She tells me to text her when I get home so she doesn’t worry. I argued with her about not wanting to wake her up, but she insists she’ll sleep better knowing I’m home. It’s oddly like a relationship, but I don’t get to hold her or kiss her. The more we talk and get to know each other, the more I crave that.
Only with Jamie.
Tonight is one of those nights. It’s been a month since I’ve seen her, and I’m incredibly tempted to hop in my truck and drive to her. The bar’s closed Sunday and Monday, so I could leave Saturday morning—the staff and Liv can handle the place for a day—and then I could drive home Monday morning when she leaves for work. Or maybe I could get her to call in and I could leave Tuesday morning. I like that idea so much better.
These are the thoughts that run through my head daily.
Me: Hey, gorgeous, I’m home.
Before I can even set my phone down, her name lights up my screen. I tap the screen and place the phone next to my ear.