Page 18 of Good Intentions, Vol. 2

“Sore,” I admit through a smile as last night’s activities run through my mind.

“Did I hurt you last night?” There’s concern coloring his moments ago teasing tone.

“But then again, that feeling is also delicious,” I give him a smile with my eyes still closed and stretch just to feel the sting again.

He chuckles a little and I open my eyes only to see he’s dressed already and ready to go.

He bends at the waist, coming closer to me and bites the cheek of my ass, whispering against my skin, “See you in a couple of days, pretty girl.” Standing up, he winks at me and in the next second he’s gone, and I can hear a soft click of my front door as he leaves me.

“Bye,” I whisper to the now empty room the same feeling entering my heart.

*~*~*

All day I’ve been restless.

I cleaned my apartment, tried to call Erin to see how she is doing and if she got her situation under control, but she didn’t answer her phone or either of my numerous messages. She’s been dodging my calls since the last time I saw her, or when I could finally get her to answer, she refused to talk about it and thus letting me know all was not right in her world.

I’ve tried everything I could think of to get my mind off the email I got from Eric Matthews. Even with the colossal mistake I made during the meeting with him, he reached out to me, containing a job offer and the fact that once again Nick left me here all alone.

I’ve had nobody here.

And for the first time in a long time I acutely felt that.

And once my phone pinged alerting me that I got a message, I was plummeted straight to fiery depths of hell.

Because I got a picture under which were the words. We miss you.

A picture of a man I loved embracing his son.

Their smiles lit up my room even through the screen.

The little boy with dirty blonde, going on brown hair, held up a cartoony themed car balloon, his father’s blue eyes sparkling with mischief, his smiley mouth surrounded by a ring of what only could be chocolate.

The picture of a joy.

We’ve never discussed his family, his son and the only time he even mentioned his wife was when he explained the lay of the land between them. So, why would he send me a picture with his son when I painstakingly avoided the real world, was beyond me.

But it served its purpose.

Closing down the picture, I go to my laptop and open up a certain email. With every word I type one tear slides down my face, but I do it.

I finally do the right thing.

Before going to bed to close myself off and cry, I set up the lunch meeting with Mr. Matthews so we can discuss the details of the job I just took.