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I’ve done everything to keep myself busy this week. To take my mind off Hunter and the fact that we are giving each other space to figure things out.
You know what I’ve figured out?
I miss him.
Not just the sex.
Him.
And I didn’t even need the week to realize that.
Running in Central Park Tuesday morning, I passed by the bench where he massaged my calf and proposed our secret arrangement. There were people all around me, but the trail felt lonely without his sexy grin and witty commentary.
Wednesday night, I ordered in from Osteria Cotta, his favorite Italian restaurant that he introduced me to, and accidentally ordered our usual. Emma ate some, but mostly I devoured the two entrees, then crawled into bed wearing Hunter’s Princeton shirt. The scent of him on the worn cotton is fading just like the printed blue letters.
Yesterday, a David Gray song was playing on the car ride to a venue tour and I started crying.
Johnathan kindly gave me his pocket square to blow my nose into.
That’s yours now, honey,he’d said when I offered it back.
There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to be with Hunter, but the looming conversation with Griffin still sets my stomach a flutter.
I prop my feet up on the ottoman next to Emma’s and sigh. But right now, it feels good to relax.
“Do you want to eat a pound of chocolate and bingeLove is Blind?” She shakes the open bag of Dove dark chocolates in her hand.
“Yes, please.” I extend my hand in her direction, palm up.
Emma passes me a piece of chocolate. I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth. So good.
“Are you on your period, too?” she asks, unwrapping another piece of chocolate.
“Um…” I hesitate as my brain registers her question.
My period, my period…my period!
I flip through my mental calendar, struggling to recall what day of the month it is.
“I just know they can sync up when women live together. I’m on birth control, but it can happen sometimes.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, still trying to evaluate the situation, “I’ve heard that, too.”
Emma navigates the television to select the show while I pull out my phone and discreetly check my calendar.
Don’t panic.Let’s just take a little looksee.
I had one in May right before I moved here, and then there was the one in June. It was super light, only a bit of spotting, but I’ve heard stress can do that and it aligned with my cycle, so I counted it. I count the weeks.
Damn. I should have had it by now.
Oh, fuckity fuck.
My stomach drops, but my brain is still trying to rationalize.
Maybe it’s a little late. Due to stress or something. I’ve had plenty of that lately.
But it’s never been this late. I think. I’ve never counted the days between. It always shows up eventually. I’ve never had the amount of sex that I’ve been having with Hunter before either.
