Chapter 14

I cleared our empty plates and sat back down opposite him, twirling the wine in my glass.

“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier,” he said grinning. “Forget I said anything.”

Can’t un-hear the heard, Jay. But his words relaxed me a little, and his grin relaxed me a whole lot. How was it possible for me to have such a perfect specimen of a man in my home?

I smiled at him, “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Not quite. You seem stressed, Abbie. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Do I tell him? This was my chance. I didn’t want a relationship, I should just say it already. “Just a bad week at work is all.”

Jay perked up. “Why? What happened?”

“My boss has it in for me and has been on my ass all week.” I took a long drink of my wine to cope with the thought of Calvin.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I sent out a bunch of resumes. I know I haven’t been with the company long and it will look bad, but I’ve got to get out before I’m forced out,” I said.

“Why would you be forced out?” I felt like Jay was grilling me.

“Realistically? Calvin hates me because I threaten him. He’s never had a good idea, is clearly in over his head and knows I could expose him any time.”

“How?”

“I have proof, a stack of emails I printed before he had the chance to delete them. Him asking me the most basic questions, sometimes two or three times.”

“So why don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m not that kind of person.”

Jay leaned forward, his head nearly reaching my side of the table. “Give those emails to his boss on Monday.”

“Maybe.”

“No. Do it. I mean it.” The sudden forcefulness of his voice and his aggressive body language unnerved me.

“Why? Is that what you did in your last job? How did that work out for you?” I snapped.

Jay shook his head, but he didn’t lean back from my side of the table. “Abbie, this isn’t about me.”

“This isn’t about an unemployed man giving me job advice? I have a mortgage to pay, you know. Not everyone can dick around unconcerned about having no income.”

He leaned away, but he sat and stared at me. My skin itched wherever his eyes bore into me.

“Do you even try to find a job?”

“Abbie, it’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then, Jay?” I spat his name. “What have you done? Have you taken any classes? Brushed up your skills?”

He remained silent, and I carried on my little tirade. “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to find a job in IT? Do you at least consult? Don’t you get any self-satisfaction from working?”

The breath being forced through Jay’s nose was the only sound in the room. But he still didn’t say anything. I didn’t know why but I couldn’t stop. I paused to let him respond, but he sat there, staring at me. I wanted to shake a reaction out of him. And I wanted to smack myself for caring. I brought him here to fuck me, not justify his existence to me. But I couldn’t help myself.

My tone got even harsher. “How do you live? Off a pile of your daddy’s money? I mean really, who gallivants around all day, drinking overpriced coffees and having Champagne in the park?”

Before I could react, he stood and walked out the door. I sat, frozen in place. The hottest man who’d ever shown any interest in me had been sitting in my condo, only moments away from ravishing me on my bed, and I drove him out. Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut?

* * *

I finished the rest of the bottle of red. I went to the fridge, pulled the spoon out of the neck of the Champagne bottle, and finished it. The whole time I was trying to keep my mind from whirring.

I am so stupid. Repeat.

Over and over, I’d pick up my phone and set it back down. Jay hadn’t texted. The drunker I got, the antsier I became. The antsier I became, the more I had to hike my dress back up. I’d been trying not to throw anything, but I broke down, lifted a throw pillow high over my head and chucked it across the room. It didn’t make me feel any better.

The action had caused my tit to pop out of my bra and dress. For the zillionth time that evening, I started to hitch my dress back up. In my drunken anguish I looked down at my sad, lonely boob. A tit that mere hours ago was being kissed and sucked by Jay. Gorgeous, fun, sexy Jay. My womb contracted at the thought of my loss. How could I undo this entire evening? Take it right back to the sofa?

Without further thought, I pushed down my dress and bra around my waist and took a selfie. I cropped my head out and left a slight bit of my fuchsia dress so there could be no doubt of whose tits they were. I texted it to Jay, with no words.

Heh, my first foray into sexting. I toasted myself with my empty glass.

* * *

My phone rang the following morning. My heart leapt, but it was Jenny. I couldn’t face talking to her and I hit reject.

I’d barely slept all night. I was too busy checking my phone for any response from Jay, but it had been radio silence. Countless times, I’d type out a big long apology – for both my behavior at dinner and the sexting, and countless times I’d deleted what I’d typed. I should phone him, talk to him and apologize like a normal person but I didn’t have the courage.

Nor could I face telling Jenny what had happened or what had not happened despite my planning.

I dragged myself out of bed and rummaged through my bathroom drawer for painkillers. My head throbbed. I was paying the price for drowning my sorrows but I deserved all the emotional and physical pain I was suffering for the way I’d treated Jay.

By noon I still hadn’t heard anything from him, though Jenny had texted a wink. I guess she figured he’d stayed the night. And that I was wrapped in his arms right now, having morning sex. Which I should have been. Could have been. If only I’d kept my big mouth shut.

By early evening I still hadn’t eaten. I put another piece of lasagna on a plate. I sat in the same seat I’d been sitting on last night when I’d decided to verbally rip apart my houseguest. Rude! I had been plain rude and my poor, dearly departed mother would be ashamed I’d treated anyone that way, whether they’d deserved it or not. Regardless of whether I’d been trying to get naked with them or not.

I picked up my phone.

Sorry. My behavior was inexcusable.

A few deep breaths later I managed to push send. It was too difficult to sit in the same place, looking across at the empty seat across from me. I picked up my plate and moved to the sofa.

After every bite of food, I’d pick up my phone and check for a reply. There was no need to do that, I had the volume set to maximum, and the vibration turned on. Still, I couldn’t help myself. Hope was a difficult thing to quash.