Smith was conflicted. On the one hand, he was so fucking proud of Kenna for verbalizing her discomfort and telling him how she felt about their little camping trip. On the other, hehatedthat it had taken her three days to summon up the guts to do so.
Just when it felt like they were making progress, they took two steps back.
Sure, she’d refrained from telling him out of a reluctance to disappoint him, but he hated that her first choice was always to withholdherself.
And yes, he recognized that in not discussing his feelings on the matter with her, he was repeating the same pattern of behavior, but he needed a goddamned minute to process and figure out how much he should simply let slide.
Because progress was progress and expecting more from Kenna at this point would be tantamount to rushing her. After the mistakes he’d made during their marriage, he’d promised himself that he would no longer burden her with the weight of his expectations. For whatever the fuck this thing was to work between them, she needed to figure shit out in her own time.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
They’d been with each other every day since Saturday. After four days of constant companionship, they both needed a break. And since this non-relationship, unspecifiedthingcame with zero rules, they didn’t have to check in with each other daily.
Just last week they’d been separated, in the process of divorcing. They needed to figure out if what was simmering between them now was just lingering sexual chemistry or something deeper.
It was very easy to mistake sex for emotional connection. Perhaps that had been their fatal error since the very beginning.Assuming that the intense sexual chemistry between them had emotional heft.
He picked up his phone, ready to message her. Tell her he wouldn’t be coming around later, or even tomorrow…and then hesitated.
Coupleschecked in with each other.
Smith and Kenny weren’t a couple.
But surely letting her know not to expect him was common courtesy?
He checked the time. It was after nine. She wouldn’t be expecting him this late anyway. And sending a message to confirm what she already must know seemed a little…desperate? Attention-seeking?
He swallowed thickly and deliberately put the phone on silent and set it aside, determined not to look at it and not to think ofherfor the rest of the evening.
When he wandered into his bedroom, he groaned. The sound was long and low.
They’d simply packed and left on Monday. His bed was still unmade, the T-shirt she’d worn still carelessly tossed over a pillow.
Her scent waseverywhere. The fucking sheets still smelled of sex.
Motherfucker.
So much for not thinking of her for the rest of the night. He needed to change the bedding. But the task suddenly seemed unbearably overwhelming.
He padded back to the living room, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat on the sofa for another hour before eventually falling asleep where he sat.
Thursday
Hi. Scheduling update. Heading to MJ’s for brunch at 10.
Smith
Okay. Enjoy
Hey, having drinks at Ralphie’s with Daff and Spencer at 8 pm.
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Friday
Update. MJ’s at ten.
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