She nodded. Pulled up on the door handle.
“But, just for the record, it wasn’t all me.”
His parting shot was cheap.
But it was also the truth.
* * *
The consequences of sexual passion had almost ruined her life once. Almost killed her, if she were honest and considered the darkest hours just after she’d given birth to Ryder. They’d given her something to help her sleep and for a moment there, as she’d been drifting off, she hadn’t wanted to wake up.
Falling for the notion that she had a good partner who would hold her when she had a weak moment had been the catalyst that led her to having sex with Nathan. They’d only done it once. It hadn’t been planned. She’d been crying because her grandfather had had a dizzy spell and had fallen that day. She’d seen it happen, been unable to help him.
The doctor had said he’d be fine. They’d only kept him in the hospital overnight as a precaution. Gram, of course, had insisted on staying with him. As was right.
And Christine had been home alone, reliving the moment. Coming face-to-face with the proof that the source of her strength was getting weaker.
That Gramps wouldn’t be around forever.
When Nathan called and she told him what happened, he’d come right over. Had held her as she’d cried...
She’d thought he was the real thing. Her soul mate. The man she’d been meant to find. The “Gramps” to her “Gram.”
Then she’d grown up.
That first night after Jamie had kissed her, she’d taken a hot bath and had gone to bed. Determined to be kind to herself, and others. To get up in the morning and go to work. To help others have children to feed.
She didn’t sleep all that well.
By noon the next day, she couldn’t sit still and pushed Jamie’s speed dial on her cell phone. If work, helping others, wasn’t sufficient, she’d done something wrong.
She knew she had.
“I’m so glad you called,” he said, picking up on the first ring. She’d waited until his lunch break from class. It would have been wrong to do otherwise. She knew his schedule. “I apologize profusely, Christine. I can guarantee you it won’t happen again.”
It sounded as though he’d rehearsed the words. Or listened to them repeating in his brain too many times for too many hours.
“Christine.” Thank God he’d reverted.
And to the sadness within her at the loss of his “Chris,” she told herself to grow a pair.
“I’m calling to apologize for my overreaction last night,” she said, hearing the stiffness in her voice and finding that a good thing. “I realize I am as much or more to blame as you were and that it was wrong and weak of me to threaten you with the ‘cause’ clause.”
Silence hung on the line and she took advantage of it. “That said, there cannot be a repeat of last night. Not any of it. We have an emotional project going on here. It was bound to bring forth intense feelings in both of us. But we’re aware now. We’re adults. And I have complete faith that we can both handle this.”
He answered immediately. “I agree. I’m embarrassed, ashamed, and I do apologize. You were having a low moment and I pushed my way in to a space in which I didn’t belong. It won’t happen again.”
His tone, the distance and sincerity, spoke volumes. Grateful that the call had gone better than she’d imagined it could, she hung up.
And started to cry.
* * *
“I wanted to have sex with him.” The words flew out of Christine’s mouth the second Olivia slid into the booth that night at a pub they often frequented. Christine had been facilitating a women’s health class early that evening, with the volunteered help from Cheryl Miller, but had called Olivia to ask if her friend could do a late dinner.
“Did you?” Olivia hadn’t even put her purse on the seat beside her. It hung suspended in air, as her friend looked over at her.
“Want to? Yes.”