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"Yes," I said, because that was the truth. Now that I knew myself in this way, I wouldn't lock these interests up again. "But I think it'll be hard to replicate. MSA makes sure clients feel really safe, and they have a lot of precautions in place."
Not that I'd used any of them when I was with Khell.
"Were you ever scared?" Natalie asked.
I took a third or fourth handful of body wash and started working gently at my thighs again. They were probably clean by now, but the phantom sensation of Khell still remained.
"Only at the beginning, and that was mostly just about whether or not I would regret the booking." I hummed and then smiled to myself. "Maybe a few other times, but that was because it was what I wanted."
Natalie cackled in answer. "Gosh. I'm so proud of you. And kind of jealous. Not for the sexathon, that sounds exhausting, and anyway, who would take care of Emmett? But like, I feel like I'm gonna have to talk to Theo about upping our game."
I snorted. "Competitive much?"
"Um, yes. You know me. I'm very competitive. Also, orcs aren't the only ones who like to hunt."
I grinned and took a final rinse. I did know Natalie. And now she knew me a little better too. I was surprised by how easy it was to tell her everything I'd done, everything I'd asked for. I'd been keeping those fantasies a secret, ashamed of myself. And for what?
I would've said I felt lighter without the burden, but the truth was there was still a lead weight in my chest—the absence of Khell.
I took a deep breath and lifted my face to the stream of water. Natalie would be right. The ache would pass. My brain chemicals would chill out again soon enough.
Life would go on without Khell.
That's everything. Thanks for the time.
No hard feelings.
-Harry
Sorry. That was curt.
I really am wishing you the best, Sonya.
-H
I tapped my finger on Harry's note, left diligently centered on the side table just inside my modest coach house entrance. His key rested at the very top of the note.
I left it there, a faint and melancholy smile on my lips as I stepped into my living room to survey the wreckage. Which, of course, there wasn't any. Harry didn't tear himself out of our home like a tornado. What there was were new small holes in the space, pinpricks, really. A club chair was gone on the far end of the room, along with the small side table between the couch and the bookshelves, my lamp now sitting on the floor without a place to stand.
It was a curious kind of surgery performed on the space, a room I'd documented the arrangement of, developed my social media following with. But what I was looking at wasn't emptiness. It was potential.
It'd been a long time since I'd been able to do more than small projects in my house, and I'd gained my popularity with my initial renovation of the coach house.
I can do it again, I realized, a brightness lighting up inside of me.
It had been a nice two days at Natalie's place, but the whole time, I'd felt a little like I was living encased inside of a thin barrier. That film over the world popped now, and I took a deep, clean breath and then hurried upstairs—these are too narrow for Khell—to my bedroom. The bed's barely big enough for him. I dropped my bag on the floor, picked up my good digital camera, and crossed into the spare bedroom that I'd given up for Harry's home office. It was especially bare now, and I had my first genuine smile in hours at the sight. A blank slate.
A project was always good news. A dozen projects was even better.
I turned on the light, stepped back in the doorway, and snapped a picture. The guest bed was there on my right, in front of the window, only a full because Harry had objected to how much space a queen would take up. The left side of the room was barren, a few dust and scratch marks on the wall from Harry's desk and cords.
I backed myself up the hall to stand outside our shared bathroom, turning on the light again, taking another photo of the space. I'd done up the bathroom before Harry arrived, and then made minor adjustments to accommodate him—a new set of shelves tucked under the sink, a longer towel rack. The space was clean and bright, but it did look a bit dated now to me, and I kept thinking of the lovely, lush bath at the cottage.
Plants would be nice, ones that liked the humidity. I could do a little demolition on my own too, just enough to make that windowsill extend around the entirety of the tub stall.
A new tub would be even better. Rip out the built-in, bring a new freestanding tub with higher walls and…and redo the tile wall…
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and started making notes.
