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Then finally his text message pops up on my screen.I’m trying. Feels like I’ve barely seen you this week.
That’s exactly how I feel myself, but I’ve been telling myself it’s irrational. The previous weeks we’ve spent together haven’t been different than this one. It’s only on the weekends that I see him more. But I’m starting to feel his absence more and more on weekdays.
After waging a quick mental debate about how to reply, I end up saying,Same here. See you when you get back.
It’s not exactly what I want to express, but the conversation is making me decidedly nervous, so it’s probably safer to close it down.
I wait for a minute to see if he responds again, but he doesn’t. There’s no reason he would. I clearly ended the exchange.
But still…
I read over our texts several times, wishing I’d said things differently, until I finally groan and purposefully put down my phone.
I’m being ridiculous. It doesn’t matter how I word every sentence in a few casual text messages. He’s not going to be reading into things the way I do.
Men tend not to do that as much anyway, and it’s not like he’s hiding a huge secret like I am.
I take a bath, leaving my phone out of arm’s reach, and then I climb into bed to read. I pick out an old favorite instead of trying new books, and this works better to occupy my mind.
It’s almost ten when I hear sounds at the front door. I lower my book and look up to see William walking down the hall toward our bedroom.
“Hey,” he says, scanning my face and position in a quick look. “You’re in bed early.”
“Yeah. I was just restless and grumpy, so I decided to read in bed. You got back earlier than you thought.”
“I should have stayed longer, but my mood was further deteriorating so I figured it was better for everyone involved if I just come home.” He looks tired and rumpled in his gray suit and loosened tie. His eyes rest on me almost wistfully. Then something twists on his face. “I won’t bother you since you’re—”
“I was killing time,” I say, realizing he’s about to make a retreat the minute after he got home. “I don’t actually need to go to bed at nine o’clock. Have you eaten anything?”
He shakes his head.
“I’ve got leftovers from my dinner. I can fix them for you.” I climb out of bed, quickly pulling down my camisole when it gets hiked up toward my breasts.
“You don’t need to—”
“I just told you I’ve got nothing better to do. You look exhausted. It will take a few minutes to fix your food, so why don’t you take a quick shower?”
“I can help you—”
“I don’t need help. Take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
His mouth twitches up. “Kind of bossy tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am. I’ve been looking for something to do, so I’m not going to let you take it away from me. Take a shower, and I’ll get your dinner together.” I try to keep my voice light so he won’t know I’m fighting the urge to pet him, stroke him, take care of him.
He opens his mouth to say something but must rethink it. His mouth tightens. He swallows visibly. “Okay. Thanks.”
He’s taking off his jacket when I walk barefoot out of the bedroom, pulling up my pajama pants as I go since I’m pretty sure my panties are showing.
I do have plenty of leftover vegetables from my dinner, but I only grilled one small steak and I finished it. But there’s another one in the refrigerator, so I take it out, pat it dry and salt it as I wait for the grill to heat up.
It doesn’t take long to grill the steak. As it’s resting afterward, I venture into the wine closet, hoping a good choice will miraculously occur to me. Red is best with steak. I know that much. But the nuances and variations are beyond me. I’m definitely wine illiterate, and for the first time in my life I wish I wasn’t.
“See anything you like?” The familiar male voice comes from behind me. Unexpected. Making me jerk slightly.
“I don’t know. I’m not very good at picking out wine, and I don’t want to accidentally pick something super expensive.”
“All the special stuff is on the top shelf. Anything else is fair game.”
