CHAPTER 8
RINSE, REPEAT, REGRET
NATALIE
It was Monday morning, and Will was coming over to talk. I wasn’t sure what more there was to say about my divorce, but a little chat wouldn’t hurt. At least, that’s what I told myself.
The truth was, I felt nervous. Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because I couldn’t stop thinking about Will. I wanted him in my bed, plain and simple. It had been months since I’d been with anyone, and my body ached with the kind of longing that was impossible to ignore. But this wasn’t just physical—I craved Will. Anytime I saw him, my body went into autopilot, unable to resist the pull.
But he had a girlfriend. A serious one, apparently, if he’d brought her to school. I needed to get him out of my head.
As if on cue, I got an email from Lucas.
Subject:Project Details
Hey!
Would you meet me at the restaurant later this week so I can introduce you to Jasper, the chef? We can go over more details for the project at the site. And perhaps after, you would let me take you to dinner Friday night at Broadway? 7 PM?
Lucas
A date with the charming Brit. Maybe that’s exactly what I needed to break this spell.
The clock snapped me back to reality. I was running behind and had to get the kids to school and get back in time for my meeting with Will.
He arrived right on time at 8:30. The doorbell rang, and I rushed to answer it, my pulse already racing. When I opened the door, there he was, standing on my porch with that perfect thick blond hair and those annoyingly piercing blue eyes. He held up two coffee cups.
“One vanilla latte,” he said, handing me one with a perfect smile.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling back. “Come in.”
I led him to the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter. His presence filled the room, and I couldn’t stop stealing glances at him.
“So, how was your weekend?” I asked, trying to keep things light.
“Great,” he replied. “Carter and Chase had a soccer tournament.”
“How’d they do?”
“Carter’s team took the championship,” he said with a proud grin. “Chase’s team made it to the semifinals but fell short. How was your weekend?” He asked.
“Farmer’s market, baseball, dance, the usual,” I said, shrugging.
He was watching me closely, his gaze lingering. The tension between us was impossible to ignore. I could feel it simmering just below the surface, like a spark waiting for oxygen.
“So,” I blurted, desperate to break the silence. “How’s your girlfriend?”
Why did I ask that?
He looked momentarily confused. “She’s fine,” he said slowly. Then, he tilted his head. “But aren’t we supposed to be talking about you?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I guess that’s why we’re here,” I said softly.
“I wish you’d told me,” He said, his voice low. “I would have been there for you.”
“I know,” I said, my throat tightening. “But I needed to handle it on my own for a bit.”
He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and gently touched the tip of my nose with his finger, a playful gesture that sent shivers down my spine.
