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Again, there was a silence that went on a bit too long. "Huh. Okay. Well, I guess that was nice of him."
"It was nice."
"But why's he knocking now?"
My back started to itch, and I rubbed it against the headboard. "Well, he, uh, just does that every night now when he goes to sleep. Kinda checking in with me I guess."
"Huh."
Boy, even through the phone, I could feel Devon's disdain. Devon's disdain. That sounded like a movie or something.
"And what does he do if you're not there?" Devon asked, his voice tight and controlled.
"Hmm, I'm not really sure."
I tried to think if I'd even been out out since I'd moved in. Once I'd started living on my own, I'd become a bit of a hermit. For the first time in my life, I didn't have a roommate or a live-in fiancé. I was free to do what I wanted whenever I wanted. No desperate knocking on the bathroom door. No problem if I felt like being a slob. No problem walking around completely naked.
And I loved it.
So yeah, the few single friends I had left, when they asked if I wanted to go out, I had declined lately. Because the truth was, even though I thoroughly enjoyed living alone, I also got totally freaked out at night, and I hated the thought of coming home to a dark, empty apartment. All the bad stuff seemed to happen at nighttime. At least in my life.
And Josh knocking on the wall, just knowing he was there, made me feel safe. If something did happen in here, I knew Josh would hear it, and even though I barely knew him, I was sure he'd actually do something about it. He'd proven that by checking in on me when I'd had the nightmare.
"Well," Devon said, breaking the strange silence. "I guess it's not really a big deal."
"It's really not," I agreed.
We moved on, and for a while, we talked more about the wedding, having fun with each other, enjoying drunk Devon. Even pretty wasted, though, I tried my hardest, but I still couldn't get Devon to do anything even slightly sexy over the phone.
Since he'd left, I'd missed that part of my life desperately. And several times, I'd tried to get Devon to do something about it via video. But he always said no, admitting he was uncomfortable with the idea.
I thought tonight maybe, with some drinks in him, he'd be more apt to try it. But nope. A big, fat no. With a sigh, I realized a person could only take so much rejection. I was done asking.
Despite his telling me how much he loved me and adored me when we hung up, I still felt totally down. But it wasn't just sexual frustration. It was a strange little feeling in the back of my mind still about him having drinks with Violet, wedding planner extraordinaire.
Putting Mr. Darcy off a bit longer, I began to do some stalking... I mean, research on my phone about her. She was my wedding planner too after all. I needed to know everything about her, right?
Finding her website, which was stunning by the way, ugh, I searched for some kind of bio and soon found it. And there was her photo. Damn it. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Of course she was.
My heart sinking, I took in her thick, luscious, honey-colored locks and shockingly blue eyes set off by perfect lips and cheekbones. Everything the complete opposite of me.
God, the whole thing made me queasy and insecure with a feeling deep down inside that this woman had the power to tear my world apart.
Oh, my Lord, wasn't there a movie about this very situation? The Wedding Planner?
Ugh, I felt sick. It'd been a while since I'd seen that movie. Maybe I'd have to watch it soon. Oh, God, maybe not.
A loud thud sounded behind me—Josh's headboard hitting the wall as he moved in his sleep probably.
Blowing out a breath, I stood up to double-check all the locks and get ready for bed. There was nothing I could really do about Violet from a distance. I'd just have to trust Devon. And I did trust him. He'd never done anything in our two years together to break that trust. Not even close.
As I crawled back under the covers a short time later, I checked to make sure the pepper spray was under my pillow. Yep, just where it belonged.
This was the part of the day I hated the most, closing my eyes at night, that feeling of vulnerability while I slept.
Maybe I needed a little pep talk.
I was a kick-ass, grown woman! I'd taken self-defense classes. And I had my dad's vintage Dodgers bat under the bed. Take that!
Or maybe I'd just read P&P till I passed out from exhaustion. That worked also.
