Giselle
Thethwapofa hand slamming against a door jolts me awake. I wipe my mouth of the drool that was clearly happening as I slept face down in a fluffy pile of white down pillows and an overstuffed duvet. The craziest part is that this isn’t my house. It’s Henry’s. His is the only man’s bed that I’ve been in, where the thread count outdoes mine. I never want to get up.
Thwap, thwap, thwap.
The door. I look around the room. I’m alone. Glancing at my phone, I see a text from Henry that awaits me.
Henry
Don’t leave. I’m making you brunch. Had to run out to do something. Espresso machine is set, just press the blinking button if you can’t wait until I’m back.
I smile. And then smile wider. I squeeze my eyes shut, smiling like a loon into the pillow.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper to myself. Even if we ignore the rules laid out for us about staying apart, completely ignoring Bea’s orders, that doesn’t change anything. The only thing that’s changed is that I’ve gone and officially become addicted to, not only him, but his dick.Brilliant move.
Thwap. Bang. Bang.
Right! The door. I look around the room and there’s nothing of mine on the floor. I pull out one of his white t-shirts from the set of drawers on the other side of the room, throwing it on as I stop at the bottom of the stairs, weighing whether or not I should answer. I rarely answer the door in my own place, so I should probably just leave it.
As soon as I turn around to walk toward the kitchen, though, I hear barking. Three loud barks, and then the door bangs again.Milo.
“I know you’re in there, Henry. Open the door.” The shrillest of voices permeates the metal of the front double doors.Denise. His ex. The wildebeest. I forgot they still shared “custody” of their dog.
“Either open the door or—”
“Or what?” I open the door, cutting off her threatening tirade.
If I could bottle up the look of shock on her face right now and replay it every day, I’d consider it a satisfying morning ritual. But the satisfaction dies quickly as soon as she speaks, and I look down.
She laughs. “No way. I knew it. How long has this been going on?”
“What’s wrong, Debra? You were hoping to lick my pussy first?”
“So crass, Giselle.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her belly. Her very swollen belly. And I don’t know why the sight of that bothers me, but it does. It hits me right in the chest. This atrocious person can do something I can’t. “I’m not leaving Milo with you. When will he be back?”
“He’s not here.”
“Yes, you said that. Are you going to let me in?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” I stand up straighter and glance back down at her bump. I know barely anything about being pregnant, but she seems like she’s ready to squat out a watermelon.
Scratching Milo’s head one more time, I grab his leash, and apparently his overnight bag, that she has dropped in front of the threshold. “C’mon, my furry prince.” I look up at her, tip my head, and then shut the door in her face.
I take a deep breath as I walk toward the kitchen, then pressing the blinking espresso button, I pull out my phone. My fingers pause over the texting keyboard. What I want to tell my best friend is messy. She doesn't know about what’s happened with Henry.
Can Jack go a few hours without you tomorrow? I want to have some bestie time.
Everly
Let’s do the Hot Toddy Stroll downtown.
Perfect. Meet you at Brews & Books around 7.
See you then. Love you, boo.
I boost myself onto the counter. The same spot I got royally railed against last night, and the memory of it as I play it back in my mind makes my entire body flush with heat. Why couldn’t the sex just be mediocre? If it turned out that all this chemistry we’ve been fighting against this whole time was a complete letdown, then it might make walking out of here so much easier. But I’m only kidding myself. It’s so much more than physical with him. It always has been for me.
The realities of who I am and who he is, seemed less important last night when I had a raging lady boner, and far too much liquid courage. I missed him all week long and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t ignore him. The way he dragged me into the hallway. Said the things he did. But today, as I sip this insanely delicious espresso, the caffeine manages to shoot more than energy through my system. Not so much regret as it’s distress at knowing how I have to let this all play out. If this were some kind of romance novel shelved at Brews & Books, I’d be the heroine trying to make a mess of something that could work, but I’m not a heroine. I’m fucking terrified. More broken than he even knows. Not to mention, the stats on being found again are far higher than they were before. I’m one bad decision away from being forced to relocate, not to mention, the potential of putting more people I love at risk.