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“Me, too,” I whispered. I reached out a hand toward her, then stopped when she sucked in a breath and looked up at me with a frown.
“Did you need something?”
“Are you mad at me?”
Mom looked at me for so long I thought she’d never answer. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because …”Because you blame me for Dad dying. I blamed myself. He took me to Coney Island the day before he died, and it was too much on his system.
“Because what? Fran, I’m tired. I can’t deal with this right now. I just need to rest.”
“Ok.” I hurried out of the room, unable to handle the force it required to talk to my mother.
When I looked back, she was curled into a ball. She probably needed a hug, too, but neither one of us knew how to ask for it.
* * *
This is a crazy idea.
I pull open the drawer where I stuffed the lingerie Leo gave me. I haven’t been able to get rid of it, and I haven’t wanted to. It was a gift from him—an inappropriate one—but one I’m starting to see in a different light.
Leo and I have made a lot of progress within a few days. All the time we’ve spent talking and having fun, from theme parks to museums, has really helped me feel closer to him. He went out of his way to make me happy with the museum date. I just can’t believe a man who has a bad reputation with women could do that.
Maybe Leo is turning over a new leaf. Maybe he’s giving our marriage a chance.
Which means I need to as well. Maybe it’s time I start to go outside my comfort zone.
The night we kissed at the museum awoke something within me. I’ve never really been concerned with feelings of arousal, but with Leo, it’s like my body is awake for the first time in my life. I feel every touch he gives me, every glance, every smile. My skin turns to fire every time his fingers graze my arm or his lips touch mine.
I want to explore more.
I just don’t know how to tell him that. Doing so would require a lot of confidence from me, and that’s something I’ve sorely lacked for most of my life.
Staring down at the lingerie, I’m emboldened. If I slip it on, maybe I’ll work up the courage to tell Leo I want to take things further than we did on our date. I want to feel his hands all over me. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.
With a large inhale, I grab the lingerie and slip it on. Staring at myself in the mirror, I feel instantly more confident. I feel … sexy. I tried touching myself before, but I didn’t really feel anything, so I’m hoping Leo’s touch will be different.
I take the time to run my hands down my body, over my stomach and breasts, my upper thighs and arms, imagining Leo’s hands instead. He’s my husband now. I don’t need to feel shame for this. I’m allowed to enjoy it.
Emilia’s words come back to me—be careful with him. I know she just wants me to be ok, but if Leo and I are ever going to have a good marriage, I need to put in the effort. Leo is. Now it’s my turn.
The door opens, startling me. I drop my hands and turn to see Leo looking at me, wide-eyed, mouth open as he takes in my appearance.
Neither of us says anything as we stare at each other.
“Uh, hi,” I finally say, snapping Leo out of his daze.
“Fran, you … you’re wearing it.”
“I am.” I pick at the ends of the fabric. “Do … do you like it?” God, this is so embarrassing. I put it on to help me gain confidence. I didn’t expect Leo to walk in on me wearing it.
“Do I like it? You’re gorgeous.” He approaches me but doesn’t touch me. “But why are you wearing it? Not that I’m complaining because I amnotcomplaining.”
I blush under his compliment. “I just wanted to put it on.”
“Good. That was a good decision.” His fingertips trace the edges of my hips. “Is there a particular reason? Other than just wanting to wear it?”
I know what he’s asking, but I don’t have the confidence to tell him the truth. “Leo, I … I can’t.”
