When I get out of the shower and head downstairs, I find a pile of boxes waiting for me on the doorstep.
I scoop the packages into my arms and haul everything inside to my home office. Dropping the boxes onto my neat, organized desk, I grab my letter opener and methodically open up each package.
A new set of graphic novels for Cameron.Some office supplies that have been sitting in my online cart for weeks. A fancy ergonomic mouse. A frame for an award Cameron won at school a few months ago. A book on athlete recruitment.
Before I even finish opening the last box, regret consumes me. This is insane.I’minsane.
I usually don’t make impulse buys. I plan, and I make pro-con lists, and I weigh my options. But as I surfed the internet while stuck at the train tracks at the end of my painful lunch meeting with those egotistical, married assholes, I spotted this cheap engagement ring on sale—andavailable for two-hour shipping.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
And now I’m staring at this shiny little hunk of metal, wondering if Amazon accepts returns on the basis of ‘a moment of temporary insanity’. Because that’s what it was. Insanity.
When I placed this order, I was actually thinking I might be able to convince Jules to marry me.It’s just that, those businessmen kept blabbing on with all their marriage talk, and it got to my head. I felt desperate. But now, hours later, I see it for what it was. A dumb, stupid, pathetic, laughable idea.
I don’t like Jules, and she doesn’t like me. One night in the sheets followed by one conversation in an abandoned alley doesn’t change that.
I whip open my desk drawer, tossing the ring box into the very back, hoping it never sees the light of day again. I don’t think I could handle the embarrassment of trying to explain this spontaneous purchase to anyone.
The doorbell rings suddenly, making me jolt.Good grief. I’m jumpy as hell.
Shaking the jitters off, I scoop up the rest of the cardboard boxes and drop them off in the recycling bin on the way to the front door. I swing it open, not knowing what to expect on my porch.
I’m definitely not expectingher.
My jaw flaps open.
My gut tightens.
My cock jumps.Stop that!
“Jules?”
She lifts her hand in a quick, awkward wave. “Um, can we talk?”
It takes considerable strength to keep my face blank while my mind is spinning out in a full-blown panic, trying to figure out why she’s here at my house, unannounced.
My first thought is pregnancy.I knocked her up. I impregnated a woman who hates me. Because that’s just how my stupid luck has been functioning these days.
But then I remember, we didn’t actually have sex in real life. Only in my head. Thankfully, you can’t get someone pregnant by fantasizing about having sex with them. Even if you’ve been doing it obsessively all day and night in every position imaginable for the past two days.
“Sure. Come on in,” I say, inviting her inside.
Bypassing the living room, I lead her to my office, because that seems a hell of a lot safer than the couch. Or even the kitchen, considering how things got started last time.
She drops into a chair in front of my desk, while I move to the other side. When she chooses to start picking at her nails and refuses to look at me, I finally speak up.
“So what’s going on, Jules? Is something wrong?”
She clears her throat. “I…I don’t know. Maybe? I’m well…I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
My heartrate picks up. “What I said?”
“Yeah. You know, that stupid joke you made about us getting married to solve all our problems.”
Am I dreaming right now?There’s no way Jules came to my house tonight to suggest we get hitched.
But I keep my reactions in check, trying to give off a stoic vibe.
