Page 62 of Playing With Forever

“Don’t hide this shit from me, Josie. If you’re feeling uncertain or scared about my job, tell me, and we'll talk it out.”

“Okay, honey.”

“Mouth, baby. I need to hit the road.”

Josie turned her head to the side and tilted her head back. I gave her a too-short kiss with only a touch of tongue, knowing if I gave her more, I’d be late, and she’d need another shower before she left for work.

I broke the kiss but let my lips linger close to hers.

“Love you, Josie.”

“Love you, Evan.”

I heard the hitch in her voice and smiled.

“I’ll pick you up. Text me when you want me to come.”

“Be as safe as you can be."

"Promise."

Josie turned back to the mirror, picked up her blow dryer, and went back to work on her hair.

For some reason, I couldn’t get my legs to work, couldn’t stop staring at the beauty before me, couldn’t stop myself from taking in all that was Josie standing in our bathroom after hearing her tell me she loved me.

When she caught me staring, she smiled and winked.

For a moment, I was thrown back to that night at the bar when she was schooling the biker at a game of pool.

Nothing but class encased in tight jeans and red spiked heels. I’d been fantasizing about what those heels would feel like spearing my ass when she winked at me.

The realization hit me hard, if she hadn’t winked, I wouldn’t have approached. I would’ve missed out on all of this.

That wink was what had set us on the path of finding each other.

And, of course, Lindy.

My pager in my pocket vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts.

With one last look, and that ball of worry still sitting heavy in my gut, I left.

Twelve hours later, I wished I would’ve deepened that kiss, stood there just a little longer, told her one more time how much I loved her.

But I didn’t.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My eyes were blurry, and my head was going to explode if I had to read one more grant proposal, email, or incident report.

I’d have approximately fifteen minutes to introduce Lindy around to the staff and volunteers before I had to be back at my desk for a video meeting that lasted nearly an hour longer than it should have. This meant I’d only had five minutes to poke my head into the art room and watch Lindy with her budding artists—six eight-year-old girls, one seven-year-old boy, and a ten-year-old girl—before I had a volunteer meeting I needed to attend. During my next thirteen minute break between meetings, I was needed in the gym because someone had drawn an astonishingly true-to-life penis in the boys' locker room. Whomever the artist was, they needed to be in Lindy’s class. Though, not to draw more penises.

More meetings.

More emails to answer.

More. More. More.

I couldn’t remember a day that had been so draining. I was counting down the hours until I could go home.