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Rory drove through the streets like a zombie, barely reaching the speed limit. Her damp eyes and shaky legs weren’t the best combo for driving.
Surprise, surprise, she’d made a misstep. A blowjob hadn’t worked the first time she’d tried to use it to break down barriers between them. Or to offer comfort. The second time he’d finished in her mouth and been even colder and more abrupt afterward.
He wasn’t ready for anything with her. That was a simple, brutal truth she couldn’t ignore any longer. Even if he seemed awful damn ready when he called her every night and panted in her ear, even if he’d tasted ready as hell that afternoon. Sex and shared laughter and long conversations about everything under the sun couldn’t patch up the wounds that only time could stitch back together. She wasn’t a miracle worker. She was just a woman, a little broken and a lot stupid.
The tears that dripped down her cheeks annoyed her more than anything. She knew better. Hadn’t she always been so careful to keep things fun and casual with her lovers? Sam wasn’t even her lover yet, not really, and she’d broken her cardinal rule.
And she was paying the price.
Aunt Pam was waiting in her office doorway when Rory arrived two hours later, her face still soggy and her arms sore from clenching the steering wheel. She’d driven in circles then finally pulled over and stared out the window at the encroaching darkness. Not seeing it. Finally going numb.
Numb she could handle.
“Where the hell have you been?” Pam asked, stepping aside to let Rory enter.
“Fucking my way through the police department. You know how I love a man in uniform,” Rory muttered, hanging her purse on the back of the door.
“Whatever you’ve been doing took about three hours longer than your break should have. Actually, forget lunch, it’s almost dinner time.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Rory rounded the opposite side of her desk and sank into her chair, wishing she had long enough hair to hide her puffy eyes and blotchy complexion. She’d tried to repair the worst of it in the bathroom but concealer could only do so much. “I’ll stay late the next few Fridays to make up for it.”
“Friday? Isn’t that date night?”
She shrugged. Like she cared about her social life at the moment. “No big deal. It’s not like I date all that much. I can work.”
“And what about this?” Pam tapped the big heart Rory had drawn on her calendar on the fourth of November. “That’s two weeks from now. Your big car show you’re all excited about. So that Friday’s out.”
“I’m not going so it’ll be fine.” Rory tapped keys and resolutely stared at her screen as she woke it from sleep. “Do you have anything in particular you need me to do or should I just get caught up on paperwork?”
“You can finish letting the customers know about the pending rate increase. How far did you make it through the list?”
“Sam. I told Sam.” Saying his name was her biggest mistake of that afternoon. One of them anyway. The hard wedge in her chest dislodged, shaking loose a flood of tears she thought she’d cried out.
Wrong.
Pamela stared at her, not speaking. Then she exhaled a sharp breath and took the seat opposite Rory’s desk. “What did you do, Rory?”
The weariness she heard in her aunt’s tone turned her tears to fury right quick. “Don’t start with me. You don’t understand. I never meant for any of this to happen. I don’t even know how it did.”
Now she didn’t know how she’d get by without hearing his voice every day. Somehow in no time at all he’d become the brightest spot her life.
She hadn’t been unhappy. Not consciously. But she had been lonely. Way down deep, in a place so remote she hadn’t even been aware it existed. And for a few short weeks, she hadn’t been anymore. It would be so much worse now, after knowing the difference.
“What happened?”
The crinkle of paper in her Aunt Pam’s hand made Rory jerk her gaze away from her computer. “What are you holding?”
Pamela waved the rolled paper and shook her head. “Later. Tell me what happened, sweetie.”
Rory swallowed hard. Sweetie? That was new.
“I’ll just listen. No advice, no lecture. I promise.”
Rory sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, gathering her courage. She hadn’t told anyone about Sam, not even her mom or her friend Shana. They’d both been busy lately and Sam had been a secret she’d enjoyed keeping to herself. But she needed to tell someone. Maybe if she said it out loud she’d stop feeling so mushy and shaky inside. If she was really lucky, some of her sense might return and she’d be able to put this whole nutty situation into perspective.
“You know I agreed to have lunch with him a few weeks ago,” she began quietly, weaving her fingers together in her lap. “Well, we never made it.”
She told her everything—censored a bit, of course, this was her aunt and her boss after all—and then sat back and waited for the lecture she’d been promised wouldn’t come. But Pamela remained silent, tapping that rolled paper against her thigh.
