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IX

Reallocation

57

Alex

I drain my drink. “I can’t stand it when she’s so bored, she picks a fight.”

“You’re the one who took this on.”

“I know, but I keep waiting for normal Tess. The further we get from the surgery, the less Tess she is.”

Thank God Jeff texted about watching the Clippers. I avoid going home some days. Jeff knows. I can’t tell her. She already feels like shit living in my house, unable to heal any faster. I want to be there for her and with her. The sex is rather creative and always amazing. I love her so much, but she’s so miserable being still that she resents I’m busy. And I resent that she resents me. I refuse to work less. I refuse to give up one more piece of my life. It’s a mess to be unraveled at some point. For now, I’ll keep it quiet.

I lied to her last week for the first time. I didn’t want to take her out to dinner with me because she’d been in such a crap-ass mood. I’ve been patient, but I didn’t want to be her punching bag. I went by myself to a restaurant. I’m going to tell her that. I feel like shit. We need to talk about a new project for her. All of this needs to come out in the morning before it’s too much.

I’m starting to feel like I’m censoring myself again. Like all I do is make sure she’s ok and I don’t matter. I’m controlled by her moods, and I will not live on eggshells again.

I hope she’s asleep. All of this will be in perspective in the morning. All the lights are on. She’s pacing. She should be resting. But my heart opens when I see her. I hope I’m not walking into shit. I want to kiss her and tuck her into bed and move on from this day.

58

Tess

“I’m sorry.” He’s not even in the door. “I don’t know what to say.”

He takes me in his arms. “Try.” He puts his forehead to mine. He looks relaxed but still apprehensive.

“I’m cooped up, and I’m not an inside cat.”

“So, kitty scratched.” He kisses my nose. “Stop using me as your scratching post.”

I nod. I’m totally guilty. “But seriously, let me know when we’re out of bourbon.”

He runs his fingers over my jawline. “You drank it all.”

I drop my head back. “Shit. I did. Jesus, I’m sorry. We’re ok?”

“We’re ok.” It feels ok. Not great, but ok. He lowers me onto the couch. I push the remote to block the window of his mostly glass bungalow as I feel his erection grow.

“I have a better way to work out our aggression.” He lifts my dress, and I’m not wearing underwear. He moans as he buries his head under my skirt. He comes out after a quick lick. “Always so wet for me, aren’t you?” He undoes his pants and pulls them down, freeing his beautiful cock.

“Well, Mr. Bishop, you’re quite ready.”

“Already at your door.” And without any pretenses, he pushes inside of me, and all of my tension funnels out of me.

59

Tess

I’m almost twelve weeks from surgery, and I’m actually out on my own. Nanette’s been hitting the dating apps hard lately. She’s got a Bumble date tonight and didn’t want to go alone. I’m here as an escort. The guy is awful. He wants me to invest in his never-wrinkle hanger. He has no engineering degree, no experience or prototype, just this pitch, and a lot of vodka in his system.

My heart flips as he enters. I’m tucked in the front banquet of Zinque, and he strolls by me to the bar. I’m three drinks in and having a really good time. But Alex looks sexy as hell. I check my phone. No text except his last one telling me he had an all-nighter at work. It’s nine, and he’s here. I don’t know the men surrounding him. College? The Hill? Maybe we’re not making as much space in our lives as I thought. It will be funny when he sees me. I stare at my gorgeous man.

“Who are you checking out? I know that look,” Bumble Dean says, waggling his too thick eyebrows.

Nanette looks around and starts waving. “Is that Alex?” I yank her hand down as his laugh gets louder. Are they sponsors of the podcast? No clue.