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By the timeFriday afternoon rolls around, I feel like I’ve crammed a month’s worth of stress into five days. It’s been one thing after another. Work deadlines. Science fair planning. School emails. Life admin piling up. The house refusing to clean itself. And in between it all, I’ve been helping my lawyer pull together evidence for the plagiarism case.
Then, there’s Gage.
He’s been politely distant this week. Giving me space like he said he would. And I can’t decide what I think about that. Which probably says a lot about where my mental state’s at.
The only thing I know for sure?
He’s woken my body the hell up.
I’m officially sexually frustrated, and the fact I wasn’t during my long celibate era butam now, afterone kissfrom that man, says everything.
We’ve seen each other only once this week, at school pickup. Five minutes of conversation while the girls buzzed around us, all science fair logistics and surface-level parenting talk. But his eyes? They saidplenty.
That was three days ago, and when I run into him at school on Friday afternoon, literally run into him, his hands are firmly on my hips before I have a second to catch up with what’s happening.
“Shit,” I say, gripping the first thing I can find, which happens to be his suit jacket. “Sorry.”
“No.” His fingers curve around me tighter rather than letting me go. His eyes settle intently on me. “Busy day?”
“Huh?” My brain lets me down yet again because his cologne is currently ruining me.
“You look like you ran here.”
I let go of his jacket and take a step back. “Oh. Right. Yes.” Then I realize not one of those words actually constitutes an answer to his question. “It’s been a busy week. And yeah, I was running late today.”
“How’s everything going with work?”
“My lawyer’s busy compiling evidence, so that’s keeping me busy. And I’ve got some other projects I’m working on.” I smile as I run my fingers through my hair. “Things on social media seem to have calmed down, though, so that’s a relief.”
“Good to hear.”
We’re standing in the school playground, surrounded by parents and noise, having a conversation about work, and all I’m thinking is about is his mouth on mine, and how good that felt.
I’ve replayed that kiss a thousand times.
I’ve remembered the feel of his hands on my body and the way his growly voice made its way into my veins.
And I’ve gone over and over the moment when he said, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Tim’s right: I am terrified of bringing another James into my life.
He was as charismatic and magnetic as Gage is when I met him. There was none of the manipulation back then, only love and tenderness. I had no idea who I was marrying the day I said, “I do” to James.
When I search my memory for the signs I missed, I struggle to find them. But if I were to search for the signs that reveal a good man, I know I wouldn’t find a time when James showed me his fear of fucking things up with me. When he put me first in the way Gage did the other day.
Looking at Gage now, I see a man watching me like he’s hoping I’ll let him in. And I’m reminded of the other thing Tim said: I’m a woman who deserves more than just surviving my days.
I move back a little closer to him, enjoying the way I surprise him. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
He turns slightly, angling his body into mine. “I am too.”
The sounds of children coming our way filter into my awareness, but I’m lost in Gage for this one last moment before our daughters arrive and demand our attention. He’s lost in me too.
The tension thrumming between us is intense.
I desperately want to reach out and trace a line from his throat down to the third button on his shirt that’s still done up. Iwant to press my body into his and undo that button. Undo them all. Get that shirt off him.
Holy god.