I frown at the phone screen. “Where are you?”
“Outside your house.”
I stand. “Oh.” I make my way to the door slowly, mostly out of spite.
“Hi,” I say again as I open the door, still holding the phone to my ear.
“I went to the restaurant,” she says, hugging her stomach.
I end the call. “Did you go to therightrestaurant?”
She kicks a hole into the welcome mat. “People from work were there. Richard was there.”
“So you stood me up?”
“Wesley,” she sighs.
I pull the door open farther. “Come in.”
She follows me into the living room, toeing off her heels and laying her coat over the back of the couch. She sits right on the edge of the couch, like she can make a quicker getaway that way. “Richard spotted me the second I walked in the door. I panicked. I didn’t want him to see us there together.”
“You could have lied,” I say.
“No.” She picks at her fingernail but her voice is firm. “It was too risky. The whole idea was too risky.”
“You could have just told them you were meeting someone.” I try to keep my voice level and calm. She was right to be nervous but I was still the one left sitting in that room alone.
“They’d wonder why I was in a private room. I didn’t know what to say.”
“You could have said exactly: I have a date. In a private room. With a guy who gives me multiple orgasms.”
She glares at me. I’m being childish, I know. I shake out my hands.
“I understand why you didn’t come but you could have at least answered one of my texts.”
She says nothing, leaving us in infuriating, empty silence.
“Or any of my calls.”
Still nothing.
“So that’s all you have to say?” I take a deep breath when I hear the anger in my voice. I sound too much like my father right now and I hate it.
“I’m sorry.” She puts her hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, Wesley.” That’s the problem. I know she is. It makes it so much harder to be mad at her. She leans forward, puts her other hand on my chest.
“Wes,” she whispers. She leans forward and kisses my throat. I close my eyes and swallow against the bolt of electricity that her touch sends straight to my dick. She starts to unbutton my shirt and I put my hand over hers.
“I think we need to talk about this.” I shift away from her.
“What else do you want me to say?” Anger coats her voice. “I said I was sorry.”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t try to fuck this problem away,” I say quietly. The fact that she’d just throw sex at me like that will solve any of this makes me feel small and insignificant and dirtier than I expect. “Don’t think I don’t notice every time we have heavy conversations. You’d rather be...intimate than talk to me.” I stumble over my words. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I just...”
I stand, trying to put some distance between us. “It was just...a shitty thing you did. You might not know what it feels like to be stood up. But I do,” I say, hitting my chest a little too hard. “Has anyone stood you up before, Corrine?”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Repeat.
“Well, I have. I’ve waited for someone to show, worried if they’re okay, hoping there was just some misunderstanding, wondering if they’re laughing at me.” I look away, too ashamed to meet her eyes. “And it’s embarrassing and it hurts.Youembarrassed me. You made me feel like some dirty secret.”
