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"I'll have some files sent to your office," he says. "I've heard that the Tinsley Simon account has been hitting some rough waters."
My back stiffens. "What? Tinsley's having trouble?"
He shrugs. "Public weddings that big always have some kind of hiccup. I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."
Just as I get back to my office, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I see it's a call from Denise. I shut the door behind me and quickly move to answer it.
This past month, my only bright light has been my relationship with Denise. Though I've been spending my weekdays in Houston, every weekend has been in Barton Beach, laced between her arms and legs. She is wonderful. Delightfully insatiable. I can't get enough of her.
I've had girlfriends on and off before, but never anyone that's made me feel this way.
My body craves her when I'm not with her, keeping me agitated and sweaty in my empty bed at night. Her image dances in the back of my mind, begging for my attention with her smile, the curves of her hips and ass, the feel of her heavy tits in my hands.
None of this was ever something I knew I could feel for someone else. And now that I have her, I can't get enough of her.
But I know if I come on too strong and give in to desire too many times, I could lose track of the other essential things. So far, that's mostly meant my work here at WestRock. Pushing myself into my work has been sobering, albeit painful.
Even still, if she calls me at work—especially when I feel as satisfied as I do now—I can't resist answering.
"Hey, babe," I say into the receiver. As usual, her breath shudders at the pet name.
"Don't do that," she giggles. "That's not fair."
"What? Calling my sweet girl sweet things?"
Her breathing hitches again. "You know what that kind of talk does to me. It's not fair to play with my feelings like that when you're so far away."
"I'll be down in a few days," I remind her. "I'm just trying to keep the engine warm until I get there. Helps things run better."
She blows a little raspberry. "You're such a tease."
I can't help but laugh. I adore playing with her like this, especially since I know she loves it so much. She and I had already fostered a teasing relationship before, but ever since meeting her sister more officially last weekend, I learned just how much Denise enjoys it.
Going to her sister's for Saturday night dinner was an interesting experience.
As a man from a small family with no children of his own, being surrounded by all those wild, tiny voices was like being on a whole other planet. For the first hour or so, I felt almost overwhelmed, especially when buried under an onslaught of probing questions from Denise's sister.
Just like at the bar, Sheila was a little firecracker, the biggest defender of her older sister, and taking absolutely no shit. She wanted to know every little thing about my life, and in a way, meeting her was as intimidating as it would be to meet a girlfriend's mother. But I answered every question as best I could, and by the end of the meal, Sheila had backed down, revealing her silly side over a couple of glasses of wine.
Sheila exemplified the best of Denise's funny side. The two of them finished each other's jokes in the most hilarious way.
Even Sheila's kids seemed to take from that side of their mother's personality, cracking jokes at everything from the shape of the steamed potatoes to the rough stubble on their father's chin. Denise didn't always show it, but she came from a family full of love and silliness. In many ways, it reminded me of my brother Bash. The resilience of his humor against the crappiness of the world.
No matter how intense they all seemed at first, by the end of the night, I was already planning to have dinner with Sheila and Paul again. Denise had been so happy that she'd squealed the whole ride home. As if I couldn't love the people and the things that she loved.
That last thought bounces in my head like a pinball. How did I become a head over heels romantic like this?
"So," I continue, forcing myself out of my reverie, "what's up? How are things on the Texas Riviera?"
To my surprise, I hear her sigh.
"Things are… okay, I guess," she says. But I can tell that she doesn't believe the words.
"You guess?" I prompt.
"Well, you know how crazy things have been at the bakery lately. I'm on break right now, and I'm already exhausted. I never knew my feet could hurt this much."
"I told you to get some new shoes, baby." Sitting in my desk chair, I scoot myself over to my computer to check for the updated files about Tinsley. "I'm going to take you shopping for some next time I'm out there if you want."
