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"I'm not," I assure him.
"I didn't expect this to happen,” he confesses as he zips up his pants. "I was only planning on telling you I want this. Then, I was going to go pick my mom up."
"Wilder," I shake my head at him, "I know."
He kisses me goodbye, his hands tangling in my hair. He doesn't let me go as he tilts my head to the side and deepens the kiss.
"I'll call you later," he promises before running out of my room.
I watch him go, feeling sated.
My phone vibrates again. I push off my bed and walk over to it.
The same stupid notification.
When I open Snapchat—Ingrid’s, not Pam’s fake account—I have a snap from Cash. My heart races as I click on it. It's a selfie of him standing in front of the Eifel Tower. But that's not what causes my heart to dip in my chest. It's the message attached.
I miss you, Ingrid, and I wish you were here with me.
Chapter 18
The Tattoo Shop
I still haven't told Wilder that Cash sent me a selfie. Or that he said he misses me. It's been four days. I don't know why I haven't just blurted it out yet. I guess I don't want to pop our bubble. Our blissful, happy, orgasmic bubble.
It's like I'm holding bottled-up lightning. Rare, electric, and extraordinary. I don't want to let it go. I want to hold onto it for as long as I can. I want to hold onto Wilder as long as I can. Before his wildness gets the best of him, and he realizes I'm just another trap. Another cage. Another round pen, holding him in.
I'm not willing to let Cash release my bottled-up lightning. Not while he's thousands of miles away.
The phone rings, making me jump, and I reach for it. "Loretta's Laser Hair and Wax Removal. This is Ingrid. How can we whack that bush for you today?"
"Ingrid," I hear Mom on the other end of the line, "how's your day going?"
"Uh," I clear my throat. "Good. What's up?"
"Your father and I are thinking about getting away for the weekend."
"Okay,” I lean back in my chair. "Are you asking for my permission?"
"No, honey," Mom chuckles, "I wasn't sure you'd feel comfortable staying home alone. I thought I'd call Grandma and have her stay with you."
Home alone? For a whole weekend. Without anyone bothering me.
"I think I'll manage fine without Grandma," I assure her. "But thanks for thinking of me."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure," I grin.
Me, an empty house, and the whole weekend to myself? I know what I'll be doing. Wilder.
"Okay," Mom exhales. "I'm making a grocery store run. Anything you want while we're away?"
"I'll use up whatever's in the fridge," I tell her.
"Sounds good, Ingrid. Love you."
I hang up the phone as a plan formulates in my head. If Mom and Dad are going to be gone for the weekend, the whole weekend, then that gives Wilder and me plenty of time to hang out alone.
