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“I did try to make it work.”
“I know.”
“And I have mourned him.”
“Even though he didn’t deserve it.”
I lift up and kiss him for that.
I press my lips against his, intending to just give him a peck, but his hand rises and slides into my hair, and he holds me there while he kisses me a second time, then a longer third. No tongues, but it still turns up my thermostat by a few degrees.
When he eventually lets me go, he says, “I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“I asked if the reason you walked out was because Lee got violent, and you said partly. And you said you argued about this and that.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “What’s the ‘that’?”
I fiddle with the top button of his shirt. “We argued about sex mainly.”
“Oh?”
“About not having it often enough,” I admit, embarrassed.
He’s quiet for a long moment. I continue to fiddle with his button, not looking at him.
Eventually, he says, “He was too demanding?”
I hesitate. Then I lift my gaze to his. “No. I was the one who wanted it more.”
His eyebrows rise.
I glare at him. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“I know you, Alex. You’re laughing inside.”
That makes his lips curve up. “A bit.”
“You find my misery amusing?”
“Only because I’ve had the same problem.”
I stare at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. A couple of times.”
He’s never mentioned his exes before. What was it Juliette said? He’s had two, maybe three, longish-term relationships that have ended quietly, without drama. “You broke up because you wanted it more?”
“It’s no fun when you have a high libido and your partner doesn’t.”
We study each other as we think about this new revelation.
“You’ve been single for a whole year,” I point out.
“So have you.”
“Yeah, well, I have Mr. Buzz to help me out.”
