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“Of us,” I say. “Of ruining this.”
I gesture between us.
Mark’s voice is gentle. “Did last night feel like a ruination?”
I remember the way my orgasmic wails echoed off the walls. I was sort of ruined. “Well—”
“I mean a ruination of us.”
I take a deep breath. “No.”
“Well, then. What makes you think a second time will?”
I press my lips together and try to be brave, I do, it’s just…I make another leap for the Magic 8 ball, but he puts it once more out of my reach.
“All right,” he says slowly, searching my face. “You need someone to make this decision for you?”
I nod and hold out my hands for the ball with a smile.
In response, he tosses it backward into the hall, where it rolls and collides with the wall.
“Hey!” I try to go for it, but he wraps an arm around my waist, propelling me backward until my feet are off the ground and I land flat on my back on the bed with an oomf.
Mark follows me onto the bed, caging me in with his big body.
“Ask me,” he orders, pinning my wrists over my head with one hand.
“Ask you what?” I say, a little breathless.
“Ask me what you asked the damn ball.”
I swallow. “Should I sleep with Mark again?”
His smile is slow and confident as he slowly lowers his body to mine. “It is certain.”
December 21, Thursday Afternoon
I do a pretty good job of not sulking when Mark has to go to work later that afternoon.
It’s just as well. After three (yes, three) rounds of incredible sex, I need time to figure out what the heck is going on here, and how I feel about it.
As well as figure out what to do with the text message that just came through.
Hey, Kelly? Is this the right number? Jordan Van Doren told me that a friend of yours told her you were looking for me?
That’s right. The text message on my phone is from none other than Adam Bartley, one of my two missing ex-boyfriends.
I should be elated. It’s four days until Christmas, and here the opportunity to maybe connect with my potential soulmate is staring me in the face.
I pick up my phone to reply, to ask him how he’s been, where he’s been…
I can’t.
I set the phone back down and bite my lip.
Wine. That’ll help. I need wine.
But half a glass of Chardonnay later, Adam’s text is still unanswered.
