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Laughing was so much better than thinking about Martin having babies with a new woman, when he hadn’t wanted the baby he’d made with his wife. Water under the bridge, she reminded herself.
Jeez, what was up with the bridge metaphors today?
Anyway, it was unimportant. She truly didn’t care what Martin did with his life. She was just glad to be free of him. Any sense of betrayal about her miscarried child wasn’t something she should dwell on either. Still, it was obvious that if anyone was concerned about propriety, it sure wasn’t Martin.
And it wasn’t going to be her either, because dammit, she was tired of letting fear rule everything she did. It was time to let want take the reins.
What shewantedwas for Nick to move in. To throw together her breakfast in the morning while she showered—though he could definitely go easier on the whey powder—after they’d fucked like bunnies, giving her no choice but to rush to work. At least she’d smiled on the way.
He belonged in her home at night, either there when she arrived from work or coming home later himself, after he got back into the swing of practices and band meetings with Oblivion. Touring was another beast altogether, but it would help to see his clothes in her closet and his stuff tangled with hers like it belonged there.
Like they belonged.
Now she just had to tell him all of that. An apology might sneak in too. She’d spent a lot of years concerned with appearances. Giving that up was going to be a long-term project, no matter how much she wished she could speed things along.
So she should maybe call him, see what he was up to. Ask him to swing by with some Chinese and a bottle of wine, and she could spread a blanket out on the living room floor and they could have an indoors picnic. Sans clothes. Afterward, they could have the big talk about him moving in, and then they could picnic again until her thighs turned to jelly.
“Sex addict,” she muttered, scooping up the cat again.
She carted Spot over to the linen closet and pulled out her newest acquisition, a lacy throw. Spot immediately tried to eat the tasseled edges, which meant Lila had to tug them out of her mouth about six times between the hallway and the living room. After setting the cat down, she pushed aside the coffee table and spread the throw on the floor. A quick tap of the buttons on the remote and the electric fireplace in the corner flamed to life. There. She smiled. Romantic enough.
All she needed now was the food, the adult beverages and the naked man.
Halfway to the bedroom, she stopped and grabbed her phone. Lingerie choices could wait until she ascertained he was actually going to come over. Nothing worse than stripping down and waiting for a man who never showed.
Not that she’d done that a half dozen or more times.
Not for Nick. Never for Nick. He was as faithful as a sunrise, which was why walking in to find him gone had made her chest hurt in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. She’d grown used to expecting him. It wasn’t a foregone conclusion he’d be waiting when she arrived home. She’d just been happily surprised so many times that him not being there felt like a loss.
Yeah, she was ready to share a closet. More than.
She typed out a quick text.
Hey you. Hungry?
There was an innuendo in that text. A subtle one. Hopefully not too subtle. The pulse between her thighs at the thought of him coming home with that look in his eye was already putting her in a bad way.
Home. She smiled and headed to the counter to grab a banana to stave off her pre-dinner stomach grumbling.Theirhome.
She’d just peeled the banana when she saw his note. Her smile faded into a wash of heat behind her eyes.
Oh God, his father. What had happened? How bad was it? Dear God, she’d just sent him a text asking about dinner. And sex. He’d think she was the most callous person who ever lived.
She snatched her phone again and sent another message.
I just saw your note. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it before. Is he okay? No, of course he’s not okay if you left a note and didn’t call to follow-up.
Then again, why didn’t he call if things were really bad? Was their relationship still on such a casual level that bad news could be jotted off on notepaper?
If it is, you wanted it that way. Every time he tried to bump things up a notch, you put him off. So no blaming him now for what you caused.
She wasn’t blaming him, just…sad. Because maybe he didn’t know what he meant to her, in spite of theI love yousthey both used with surprising ease. That was on her.
Now would be a good time to start.
If you aren’t ready to talk, or can’t right now, that’s okay. I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here waiting. I love you.
She gripped her phone in both hands and exhaled and inhaled until she began to steady. Then she sent a text to Ricki. They’d become good friends since she’d gotten together with Nick, though they couldn’t have been more different. Ricki was a wild child and Lila so wasn’t. Lila had never so much as tried pot, and Ricki had tried everything.
