I don’t dare share this story with Jackie or Zoe, since they’ll kick my ass. Brett will laugh and never let me live it down. And Nathan, well, he’ll just pat me on the back and shake his head. That sort of pity is worst of all.
I decide to shove all the leftovers in the fridge and get some sleep. When I step into my room, I see the bed. The one we just used for the best sex of my goddamn life. With the woman of my dreams. “So what if she wants to have my kid?” There are worse things in the world. Except, she never said that. What she said was it surprised her that I’d gotten snipped. Hell, maybe she doesn’t wantmykid. That’s entirely possible. I’m a catch in some regards, but according to Jackie, I’m not for everyone––an acquired taste was also a phrase she used when referencing me.
I’m tempted to strip the bed and change the bedding, but the martyr in me wants to smell her. That way, I can toss and turn all night thinking about the ways I keep fucking up with Prudence.
With the bedding still in place, I flop on top of the covers and grab her pillow she had her head on for only a few minutes before I opened my big mouth. I press it to my nose and smell. It’s there. Her scent. Barely. But it’s there.
Yeah. I’m fucked.
* * *
I’mjolted awake by the phone ringing. Searching the bed for my cell, I find it beneath my ass. “Yeah?”
“How’d it go?” Jackie asks. There’s a lot of background noise. It sounds like she’s in her car. “Did she like the lasagna?”
Ignoring her question, I ask one of my own. “Where are you?”
“On my way to work. Where are you?”
Shit. I glance at the clock on the phone and cuss. “I overslept.”
“Well…did she?” I guess she’s not concerned about my being late. I am the boss, so I’ve got that going for me.
“Did she what?”
“Like my lasagna, assface.”
“Uh. She didn’t try it.”
All I can hear through the line is her car running and other noises in the background then, “What did you do?”
“Nothing?” That came out way too defensive and semi-whiney.
“You did something.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Jesus.” She laughs and scoffs at the same time. “Maybe youaren’tready. I thought you were but maybe not.”
“Entirely possible.”
“Just tell me one thing…”
“What?”
“Is it salvageable?”
“Don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You idiot.”
Yep. That’s exactly the right word to describe me. I’m an idiot. A big. Fucking. Idiot.
I hang up soon after and jump into the shower. I refuse to take another allergy pill because it makes me too damn sluggish. I’ll never get anything done at the shop like that. My arm itches a little, so I’ll need to keep an eye on things today.
The day drags on. I’m tired, and the itching has gotten progressively worse. At three, I decide to take one of the pills and it works. Thirty minutes later, the urge to scratch has stopped, but I can’t keep my eyes open. “Fucking ridiculous.”
“I know you are, but why do you think so?”
