I know just the trim to use, and the fringe is going to make the whole thing vintage in a way which doesn’t feel forced or fake, but reverent.
Memories of a different time.
Echoes of the way things were---good or bad.
Fractals of a memory which may not have ever existed in the first place.
When my phone rings, my heart flutters at seeing Rhodes’s name on the screen. I answer quickly, never the kind of woman who prefers games over presence. Honestly, I expect the same in return.
If he had told me he didn’t reach out because he was trying to make me wait for him, or because you’re supposed to wait some arbitrary amount of time, I probably would have walked away. His job getting in the way? Considering what he does, and how devoted he is to do doing a good job, I can’t fault him for it.
And he’s certainly changed his behavior since then.
“Hey,” I murmur while putting him on speaker phone to allow me to keep working on my lampshade.
This is one thing that I haven’t shown him. Not yet.
I’m not hiding it necessarily. It just feels precious and precarious. Maybe I’ve just gotten so used to hiding this part of me.
Or maybe I’m just a coward.
Because he could look me in the eyes and call it silly. It’s not like I would even be able to hold it against him. It might be something I love to do, but I realize it is a little silly.
But I also know I sell most of my lampshades within a day of posting them. It is something I’m proud of. Because I should be.
I just don’t need everyone around me to hijack that pride on my behalf. I’m enough.
And Jessi. She knows.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” the relief in his words, like he’s happy just hearing my voice, has my heart fluttering in my chest. “How’s your day going?”
“Don’t you already know,” I tease him. “It’s not like we haven’t been texting most of the day.”
Rhodes chuckles under his breath and I clench my thighs together as I finish up pleating and gluing the panel I’m working on.
“Well,” he drawls, “I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice and not talk to you.” His voice drops an octave, like his next words are precious or a secret, “And all I’ve wanted to do is talk to you. I have no idea how I survived not reaching out to you before. I was a moron.”
My laughter is husky; a side effect of the way this man’s voice curls through my belly. Just a few words and I’m already wet for him. Again.
It’s not my fault. Really. Truly.
Rhodes is sex on legs with a badge.
How can I be to blame for what should be a warning label tattooed on the man’s forehead? But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’ve been forgiven,” I tell him honestly. My voice is light and bright, “The orgasms helped.”
His laugh is low and rumbly. It does wicked things to me.
“Can I see you tonight?” There’s a note of hope in his voice which worms its way underneath my ribs and wraps around my heart.
I hear my front door open, but I’m not concerned about who it is. There are times when Jessi pops in, usually it’s when Dad has called her and been an ass to her. That’s one thing I can’t protect her from since Dad isn’t the type of guy to run making a phone call by me. He shouldn’t have to, and I shouldn’t have to worry about it.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers the words, breathing life into the feeling which has surrounded me from the moment I got his first text today.
I’ve been missing him too. But I was afraid it was too needy. I was afraid that saying it would be asking too much.
But maybe I’m wrong about that. Maybe being needy isn’t a weakness. Maybe I deserve to ask for everything from another person.
