Anyway, they’re bluer than they have any right to be. And his jaw doesn’t need to be that square, for fuck’s sake.
He’s probably straight.
Not that it matters. At all. To anyone.
I’m sure he and Jerry don’t work all that closely together. Like Jerry said, there are a lot of farms and domestic animals demanding their time.
And Jerry and I are just friends, so it’s even more irrelevant whether he has a hot coworker or not.
Ihave hot coworkers, for fuck’s sake. And I have no idea why my brain is leading me down this path, but I want to get off it. Having hot coworkers is how I ended up broken-hearted in the first place.
Fuck.
And now I’m back to being miserable.
My gaze wanders back to Jerry’s headshot. I’m tempted to text him. My fingers hover over the screen, but then I remember how tired he said he was.
And what would I say anyway? Definitely nothing about—I squint at the screen—Mark Stenson.
I click on one of the drop-down menus and lose myself reading about the practice, and the area and before I know it, I’m yawning. Clearly, Jerry’s not the only one who’s knackered.
Sleep hasn’t exactly been easy to come by lately.
It’s been months since Karl stayed here, but my bed still seems a bit too big when I climb into it. My house a little too quiet.
Maybe I should get a cat?
That’s what I’ll text Jerry about in the morning.
He’s the expert on all things animal related, after all.
I get ready for bed, mentally constructing a checklist of things to ask him while I brush my teeth. I remember him telling me he had a cat. I wonder where he got it from? Does he have any other animals? Not sure I can remember if he mentioned any others. I can ask him about that too.
My mind is still full of all things Jerry as I drift off to sleep.
And for the first time in months, my bed feels more like mine and less likeoursas I settle under the quilt.
It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.
JERRY
“DidI tell you Reed asked me about getting a cat?”
Sean glances up from the pan he’s stirring and frowns. “When?”
“A couple of weeks ago. End of March maybe?” I go back to scrolling through the images on my phone. I’m not sure what prompted the twenty questions Reed fired at me that morning. Something about the way he phrased things gave me the impression he had other things on his mind, but I’ve kept my promise and not pushed for him to talk about anything serious.
I don’t notice Sean has stopped what he’s doing until I look up from my phone to find him leaning against the worktop, arms folded, staring at me.
I frown. “What?”
“You talk to him a lot?” Sean asks, eyebrows raised.
I can’t tell what answer he’s hoping for, but it’s not like I’m about to lie to him either way.
“A bit.” I picture our text thread and sigh, because that’s a huge fucking understatement. “A lot, actually.” We might not talk every day, but it’s at least a few times a week, and not just the odd text. We have full-on conversations that would be a lot easier and quicker to have if we actually talked on the phone orFaceTimed, but for some reason I haven’t worked out yet, we stick to texting.
“Oh.”
