Chapter Twenty-One
BEA
Maybe I should have a word with HR because there must be some correlation between orgasms and productivity. Smiles, too. Can I just take this opportunity to say this weekend rocked!
After Kit had left to visit his “grandmother”, whatever that meant, I’d spent most of Saturday lying across the bed and resting my newly formed aches and bruising while binge watching trite movies and surviving on the room service menu.
It was like the holiday I didn’t know I needed. And this week, I’ve been all sorts of superwoman-esque. Totally on my game. I’ve barely thought ofhe-who-shall-not-be-named,and conversely, I’ve thought about Kit almost constantly.
I suppose I should be worried, but I’m not.
On Wednesday, I actually spent my morning off at home. No more stalking the hospital for me! I’m feeling refreshed and thinking with a much clearer head.After some stellar head, maybe?Anyway, I know it’s time to come clean to Fin and family about him.
The asshole him, not the fabulous head him.
I’m meeting Fin for lunch, so I’ll tell her then. Selectively, at least.
As myoumaused to say, if it’s raining cereal, you must scoop.
I go for an early run, shower, and then head to meet Fin on her lunch hour in a little café near her office. As I arrive, she’s folding the newspaper as the waiter delivers two coffees and a plate stacked with what looks like a couple of crispy Croque Monsieurs.
‘Do you have something to tell me?’ I say, kissing her cheek and sliding into the tiny tub chair on the opposite side of the table. ‘Eating for two, are we?’
‘No, she replies, poking me with the end of the rolled newspaper. ‘Two for lunch.’
‘Good job I went for a run this morning.’ I eye the calorific goodness, sliding a large triangle wedge onto my smaller plate.
‘I think you need to run less. With your work schedule lately, you’ll end up ill.’
I immediately feel a pang of guilt. She doesn’t know the reason I’ve been running and working and generally avoiding life, but it’s clear she’s been worried.
‘It was just a gentle run. And work’s going to get better.’ Because I’m taking better care of myself from now on while also planning to let a certain someone take care of me in other ways...
My eyes slide to the window as I remember the feeling of Kit’s hot breath between my legs. God, I hope we’ll be able to do it all again soon. When he’d kissed me at the door to my hotel room, whispering he’d like to see me again, I’d almost swooned. We hadn’t spoken since but had exchanged a volley of texts. He’d suggested we meet for coffee. Or drinks. Or anything. Those were his exact words.
Swoon again.
So the ball is in my court, but I’m not playing hard to get. Rather, I’m gathering the courage for the next step.
My proposal.
‘What are you staring at?’ Fin asks, turning her head and following my gaze.
‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’About him. About his cool grey gaze. About his piercing. Realising I’m doing it again—staring onto space—I blink innocently before taking a large bite out of my sandwich. The cheese oozes out from between the bread. ‘This is good.’
‘I know, right? They do takeaway for those days when I’m chained to the bed.’ A bark of laughter breaks free from my chest. ‘What?’ she says, her brow furrowing. ‘What are you laughing at? I know my work hours are nothing like yours, but—’
‘What kind of job has you chained to the bed?’
‘Oh, Lord.’ Elbows on the table, Fin holds her head in her hands. ‘Desk. I totally meant desk.’
‘Sure you did,’ I respond mischievously. ‘Where do I sign up for one of these positions?So. Many... positions.’ The last word I draw out in a licentious moan.
‘Please stop with the Meg Ryan-ing.’
‘So many...po-sitions. ’
Yes, I’m imitatingthatmovie scene but not so loud as to draw attention. I’m not thrashing or faux orgasming loudly. Just teasing. A little. ‘And Meg Ryan isn’t a verb.’
