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Fallon:
Yes, please.
Ethan:
Fuck. Call me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Oxytocin and vasopressin are two other chemicals released during orgasm which are also associated with sleep. These differ highly from tryptophan, an amino acid released after eating yourself into stasis.
—Fab and Delish
After an incredible round of phone sex, Fallon’s curled on her side. I take a long look at her. She’s practically asleep, poor thing.
Actually, now that I study her face, she might as well be passed out. Her face, relaxed from its typical animation, appears fragile—the skin beneath her eyes almost bruised. “Why are you so exhausted, baby?” I murmur, not quite loud enough to wake her.
I study her face for a long period of time before letting my gaze drift over to long blond hair cascading over her shoulders, almost but not quite hiding her perfect breasts. Trailing my gaze down over her flat stomach, I stare at the place between her legs where her hand is protectively notched.
Where my hand should be, I mentally correct myself.
If I was close enough to hold her.
I kick myself for not making time to get out to see her in the last few weeks. If I was holding her, she would be able to let go of the burdens she’s carrying, share them.
Since she’s so zonked, I lift my fingers to my lips and press them against the screen. My voice is barely audible when I whisper, “I love you, Fallon. There isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you.” I inhale sharply before asking, “So, what are you hiding from me?”
She doesn’t twitch or stir, letting me know my secret—that this young nymph has captured my heart—is still safely tucked away because now I know it’s not safe to share.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SEVEN VIRTUES, NORTH CAROLINA
If holiday colors start appearing in stores any earlier, we may as well ignore the fall season. If that happens, I will not be pleased.
—Eva Henn, Fashion Blogger
It’s unusual for me to have any time to myself, let alone any spare money. But after a restful night’s sleep, I woke up to an email where Becca had gifted me with a Visa gift card and ordered me to spend the day pampering myself instead of racing hither and yon trying to be all things to everyone.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I’m not quite certain what I stammered out, but she took pity on me. “Fallon, you’re doing a great job being primary caretaker.”
“But, Becca…”
“Each week, everyone here goes home with enormous paychecks. You come in here with an incredibly heavy load on your shoulders. You don’t judge any one of us. You bake the best chocolate chip cookies for Bryndle’s little girl because she had a bad day at school.”
“How did you know about that?” I ask. Bryndle, one of the other phone operators, offered me some advice on making my phone calls more realistic.
“I know everything that happens here. Now, go treat yourself. Nothing good happens if you get sick on your mama.”
Unable to respond, Becca ordered, “Go, Fallon.”
After calling and chatting with Austyn during a manicure and pedicure, she convinces me to splurge on something decadent, “Something you wouldn’t normally buy yourself, Fal.”
“You know that’s not what I should be doing with the money.”
Her disdain was evident when she replied, “It was a gift. No one is going to be saying, ‘Oh, Fal. That electric bill looks so hot on you.’”