Meirna
The first thing I register when I awake the next morning is that I’m sore.
Between my legs and even my stomach muscles from being in positions we haven’t tried before. Memories instantly flood into my head of his breathing in my ear, all the dirty promises he uttered in this spacious hotel room where we had sex on several different surfaces and walls.
Stretching my limbs, one arm falls along the empty space where Bobby was lying earlier. I listen for sounds of a shower, but the room is deathly quiet with no signs of life beside my own.
Disappointment floods my brain because it immediately goes to him being called in to work and not wanting to wake me. I’d give anything for Bobby to have a full twenty-four hours just to remain in the same vicinity as me, but I know his career calls.
And I still stand by what I said, supporting Bobby wherever he needs. Whether that be my patience, making him dinner, or surprise lunches. We’re going to make this work when his father gives up his CEO spot fully and stops harassing and stressing Bobby out.
I can’t wait.
A ping from my cell phone pulls me into my own reality. With my eyes, I search for it because I don’t remember where I laid it down the moment Bobby and I entered the room.
He was immediately on me again, ready for round two within seconds of unlocking the door. I’ve barely been able to take in the penthouse suite he booked for the night, but it’s not as though he needed my approval. Anywhere with him is where I want to be.
And we never did eat my cookies.
More for me, I guess.
My phone pings again, then rings, giving up its spot on the bedside table where another bouquet sits.
If I thought the one from yesterday was exquisite, this one is immaculate.
White dahlias with deep ruby-red roses give it a peak of color with a folded note along the glass vase.
Ignoring my phone, I pluck it up and quickly read the contents.
Duty calls, Daydream.
You looked so freshly fucked and perfect, I didn’t want to wake you up.
I’ll see you tonight.
— Your husband
I’m framing this.
I don’t care how dumb it is, I couldlivefor these little notes and flowers for the rest of my life.
Bobby can skip the jewelry store and continue doing this.
My cell annoyingly pings again.
And again.
And again.
Ruining my little happy-go-lucky moment and has me glaring at the damn thing like it can control it.
I sigh, grab it, then open my screen to nine new text messages and three missed calls.
Pulling at the notifications, all the phone calls are from Catherine. Then click on my text messages and find seven are from the woman who needs to stop blowing me up, and two from Nettie.
I start with the annoying ones first.
CATHERINE: Don’t forget to call the priest to confirm Saturday.
