JS: Hey…can you talk?
Text.
JS: K. What are you doing?
Working.
A&C at dinner.
JS: Oh, tell Frank I say hi!
Yeah right.
JS: Haha, why not?
And get shit? No thanks.
JS: Bet he knows you’re texting me anyway. Who else could it be?
JS: Wait…maybe don’t answer that.
Wasn’t gonna.
JS: Damn. Now I want to know.
Such a woman.
JS: Last I checked, you liked that about me…
JS: Round peg. Round hole.
Lol.
JS: Did you really? Did you really just laugh out loud? Because if you did, then Frank DEFINITELY knows you’re texting me.
Wouldn’t you like to know…
JS: My guess? I made you smirk. Not nearly as great as your laugh, but I’ll take it.
What are you doing?
JS: Messing around with a new table top menu idea for Magnolia’s.
JS: Wanna see?
Sure.
JS: <attachment>
That’s your idea of messing around?
JS: That your way of telling me you’re impressed?
Maybe.
Headed out. Paparazzi shit storm tonight. Have to go.
JS: K. Talk to you later.
Hey. I just thought of a very important question.
LV: K
Do you like coffee? I can’t believe I’ve never asked before.
LV: Nothing against it. Don’t drink it.
So…you function how?
LV: Morning run.
Ah. That explains the muscles.
LV: Weight room = muscles.
LV: Running = endurance
Ah, yes. Makes sense. Keep doing both. I’ll forgive the coffee bit in exchange for your attention to endurance.
LV: Talking dirty to me, baby?
Haha, maybe I was…now I’m blushing at work, so I’m not anymore!
LV: Shame.
Wait…shame that I was? Or that I’ve stopped?
LV: Guess.
Wait…are you implying that you’d…sext me?
LV: If you were here right now, I’d strip you naked, spread you out across one of these conference room tables, and fuck you with my fingers. I’d find your sweet spot and stroke it until you begged me for more. Then I’d tease your clit with my teeth before I bit you. That’s when you’d come, your pussy squeezing my fingers as I listened to you scream my name.
Shit.
You made me wet.
LV: What are you going to do about it?
Nothing…I’m at work, remember?
Besides, I can’t get there on my own. I need you…
LV: Fuck, Jill.
Three weeks.
LV: Not soon enough.
I know.
Afternoon rush. Gotta go.
xoxo
Hey.
LV: Hi.
What are you up to?
LV: Home. Talk?
Figures. The one night you’re actually home, I’m out.
Waiting on Gloria to show. Meeting for drinks.
LV: You drove?
Yeah. One drink. Promise.
LV: You eat?
Yes, Lee. I’ll be okay.
I’ll even order a basket of fries if it’ll make you feel better.
LV: Get the fries.
Promise.
Gloria’s here, gotta go.
LV: Want to know when you’re home.
K. xoxo
<attachment>
See? As promised. And they’re delicious!
LV: Good.
You home?
Jill…
The fuck? Answer your phone.
“Jill?” I answer on the first ring.
“Sorry! I’m sorry I scared you—my phone died. I didn’t notice until I went to text you when I was getting ready to leave. I’m sorry.”
I run my hand down my face, irritated as hell that she’s a fucking five-hour plane ride away. “It’s fine,” I lie. The truth is, it doesn’t matter what I say. I don’t like not knowing where she is. That’s how far I let this get. That’s how fucked I am. But she’s not mine. Not like this—her living thousands of miles away from me. I can’t do shit from over here.
“Lee, don’t do that,” she murmurs. “It’s not fine. I made you worry, and I didn’t mean to. I’m trying to apologize.”
Leaning my head back against the couch, I pinch the bridge of my nose and mutter, “I hear you.” A moment of silence passes between us before I ask, “You’re home?”
“Yeah.”
“Going to bed?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. Early morning.”
“’Kay. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Lee?”
“What?”
“Thank you for checking on me.”
As she says the words, I picture the expression on her face and imagine the way she looked at me on the night this all started, her thanking me for dancing with her at that damn saloon—those blue eyes my undoing.
“Glad you’re safe.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.
JS: TWO DAYS!!!!!
Not soon enough.
JS: I know. I cannot wait.
JS: xoxoxoxoxo