The rest of my classes flew by after wemade plans for tonight. Amber only had to work the lunch shift today, so she was already home with dinner halfway done by the time I arrived after work.
“You should just go over there now,” she says. I cast a glance at her as I sip on my chardonnay while the girls do their homework at the table.
I bite my lower lip and stare out the window toward his place. “You don’t think it’s too early?”
She shrugs. “He’s home. His vehicle is in the driveway. You know he’s just waiting for you,” she says, with mischief in her eyes. “He’s such...” She waits for me to flick my focus to her before silently mouthing, “...a good boy.”
My cheeks burn and I attempt to stare daggers into her eyes. It’s not like my girls heard her or know what any of that means. Regardless, red-hot lust dances with embarrassment under my skin.
Maybe I should walk over to his place now. I take a calming breath and nod. Then I look at my clothes—the same clothes I wore to work. A navy blue and tan plaid skirt that stops mid-calf, with a white, collared blouse. It’s nothing special, really.
“Should I change?” I ask Amber.
“Oh, no,” she chuckles. “You’re a hot professor. This is exactly what he wants to see you wear.”
I swallow the last bit of my wine and roll my eyes. “This is not a hot outfit.”
“Wait, where are your reading glasses? He’ll lose his mind if you wear them. Oh, and you’re going to need this.” She hands me a paper napkin. “For his drool.”
Laughter bubbles up, and I wad the tissue to throw at her. The girls are still engrossed in their homework as I grab my notebook from the table and head out the back door for Jonah’s place.
Instead of the sensible heels I wore to work today, I opt for the well-worn sandals to trek across our yards. Passingthe garden, I’m pleased to see so much is ready for harvest already. Some tomatoes, kale, and green beans look good enough to eat straight away.
And the sunflowers! I must have picked the wrong seeds because they’re twice the size they should be. Most of them stand about eighteen feet tall, and I have to laugh because what the hell? They’re completely ridiculous, but I kind of love how outrageous and unexpected they are.
When I step up to Jonah’s back porch, I realize a little too late I should have gone around to the front. I’m about to change direction when I spot something new—an elaborate outdoor dining table and six matching chairs with thick, tan cushions. He didn’t have this last time we were here or the night of the storm.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and before I know it, I’m peering inside his windows to find out if he’s finally filling his home with more than a massive TV and a recliner.
That’s when my heart stops altogether.
Right there, standing in the kitchen with long, damp blonde hair and even longer legs poking out of a man’s T-shirt, is a young—young—woman biting into a piece of toast. Only her profile is visible when she closes her eyes and sighs, like there’s nowhere more comfortable to be than right here in Jonah’s kitchen.
Before she can take another bite, I’m flying back to my house with a lump in my throat and stupid, stupid tears threatening to escape.
Of course he has a girlfriend. Or maybe she’s a hookup. A situationship?Ughh, it doesn’t matter becauseshemakes way more sense for him than I do.Fuck!Why did I let myself even imagine a world where I was part of his life like that? He’s twenty-five and I’m a mom who’s knocking on forty, for fuck’s sake. What did I think was going to happen? And when did my perception of what we were change? The plan was to keep the irritating manchild who had never heard “no” at bay. When did I let him into my heart, and why the hell did I think he would want to be?
When I return, Amber is surprised to see me. “Everything okay?”
I shake my head, and she follows me to my bedroom so we can talk in private.
“He had a woman over. In his kitchen. Young, tall, gorgeous.”
“So?”
“All she was wearing was his T-shirt.”
“How do you know it was his?”
“I guess...” I start, but irrational anger takes over. “I don’t know! I just... It was oversized. And her hair was wet, so she obviously showered there, and she ate at the counter as if she owned the place!”
My sister sinks into the same realization. “I can’t believe this. He’s been so obvious with his feelings for you.”
“This is what I get for not following my own rules. Dragged along like I’m some plaything. I knew he wasn’t mature enough.”
“Well, maturity might not be his downfall.” I don’t love that she’s playing devil’s advocate right now. She continues despite my scowl. “What if he’s polyamorous? Didn’t you say his brother was?”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for that,” I answer honestly. “I’m not even cut out for monogamous marriage anymore.”
