“Just to let you know, my wife doesn’t count,” he warns. “I’m immediately going to tell her.”
“Fine. Fine.” I stare at Winston, debating if I want the truth to leave my lips. He’s grinning like someone who’s about to win a jackpot. “I’m dating someone. And…I might have…I definitely probably made a replica of my cock to send her before I got called into work. So that was fun for me.”
Winston doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, blinking, staring at me while processing the information I gave him.
I lean away, drinking my coffee. “Take your time,” I say, the words muffled by the cup.
His brows pinch together in thought, his eyes drifting to the side, his mouth forming a silent “what.”
“Yes. It’s exactly what you think it is. I made a dildo of my cock to send to the woman I’m dating.”
His brows raise comically, the wrinkles deepening before he bursts into laughter, slapping a hand against his chest.
“Okay. Yep. Let it all out. Go on. Make fun of me. Go ahead. I don’t regret it. I’m actually really excited. I only have to send it to her now. I would have already if I didn’t get called in.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I didn’t expect that to be what you were going to say.” He sits back in his chair, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling before his gaze finds mine again. “I should do that for Dove. I like the idea of—” He shuts his mouth before giving me too many details.
I smirk because I know exactly what he’s thinking. “Yep. That’s why I did it.”
He crowds the table again, forearms on the table, both hands holding the small paper cup. “So you’re seeing somebody? Who is it? Where did you meet?”
“Okay, so I’m going to need you to keep a very open mind. Before I tell you everything, I need you not to judge me.”
The curiosity flees from his face, his eyes softening. “I would never judge you, Elias.”
“Okay, I know this is weird and I know it’s insane to date someone based on the experience I’m about to tell you, but…”I smile, a real happy type of smile that I can’t stop whenever I think of her.
“But she makes you happy,” he finishes my sentence for me.
“Yeah, and I’ll be honest, Winston, I can’t remember a time where I’ve been happier than when I’m talking to her.”
“Okay? So what’s the big deal then?”
I roll my lips together, debating if I should tell him the truth or take a page out ofherbook and keep most of the truth to myself. I want to tell Winston, though. If I want this place to be my home, if I want to build a home for me and any future I’ve imagined for myself, it starts with the truth.
“She texted me a few weeks ago, but I was the wrong number. She was sending pictures of herself to an ex. Long story short, we kept talking. We don’t know what the other looks like—well—we know what our bodies look like. We haven’t shown each other our faces, and I don’t know her name. She doesn’t know mine either. We decided to get to know each other first and then we’re going to meet. In two weeks. That’s pretty much it.”
My leg shakes with anxiety under the table. Watching Winston’s emotions ghost over his face is a movie in itself.
“You don’t know her name?”
“No.”
“You don’t know what she looks like?”
“Also, no.” I take another swig of horrible vending machine coffee.
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “You don’t know her name?”
“We’ve gone over this, Winston. I don’t know her name.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Should it?”
His cheeks puff when he blows out a breath, and he runs his fingers through his graying hair, the ends standing up straight. “I mean, yes? No. No, a name doesn’t make a person, right? It doesn’t tell you what you need to know about them.”
I nod in agreement. “That was our thought process as well. We’ve already talked about it.”
