Page 13 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

I hate that he has to specify which awful girlfriend he’s talking about.

“So, Bedtime Stories⁠—”

I start banging my head on the glass again, and he goes silent. He laughs at me first, but he quits asking questions.

“Can we have a normal conversation?” I ask. “One that doesn’t include my sex life or your new role marketing phone sex as sleep therapy?” His faux wounded face makes me smile.

“How was Ireland?”

I love Dublin. I love the hotel I stay in. It isn’t quiet. Drunken merrymakers roam the street long past the time normal people are asleep, but the noise makes being awake and alone easier, almost like I’m among friends. It makes me wish my town house were in a louder part of town.

“Lovely as always.”

It takes ten minutes once I hit the door to be showered and in bed, ready to sleep.

I get back up and close my blackout blinds, then tug the curtain closed against the blazing afternoon sun. No dice. I turn the temperature down. I fluff pillows. I loft down. Still awake. I could call Kait. No. I can do this.

No, I can’t do this.

I can’t.

I call.

“Henry! I’m so happy to hear from you.” She always says that. There’s real pleasure in her voice, and for a second, I’m sure it’s genuine, not a work persona. Still, I can resist her. I proved it by waiting fourteen minutes before calling the number discreetly saved in my contacts under Sleep.

“Kait, how are you?” My bland greeting says nothing about the sheer exertion required to resist the lure of speaking to her. It’s pathetic, but when I’m talking to her, I’m settled, calm, and… happy. The urge to speak to her is a constant buzz in the back of my brain.

“Better now that I’m talking to you. Three weeks is too long between calls. I’d prefer hearing from you once a week if I get a vote.” She must have looked it up on the computer.

“I would’ve said four,” I say. “Too long, regardless.”

“I’m thrilled to hear your voice again.” Her words have a ring of sincerity, and her voice is like a wave of calm washing over me. I stop fidgeting. “Does not hearing from you for weeks mean you’ve been sleeping better or something fun like vacation?”

“Uhm.” It means I’ve been resisting the urge to call. We’ve talked three, no, four times, including today. I can’t pinpoint my need for her, aside from her wizard-like ability to magic me to sleep. Well, that and the simple fact that Kait sounds like a fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll, dripping with real vanilla bean icing. The kind that melts like warm butter on your tongue.

“Well, your timing is perfect. I have a date with my chair. We can both relax, just the way I like it.” Her footsteps are soft in the background, and then I hear the clink of metal. “I made a pot of tea. I’m fixing this cup, then I’m all yours.”

If she doesn’t have a fancy tea party cup and saucer set, she needs one.

“I’ve been thinking of you, wondering how you’re doing, if you’re sleeping.”

I’m sure she says things like that to all the callers, but I get a tiny thrill at her interest. She’s sweet. I’m accustomed to loaded questions. Kait is a welcome respite.

“Do you prefer talking at home or at the office?” I don’t want to bother her during her free time.

“I like you, so I prefer here. When I’m not in the office, it’s optional to take calls, but I’d happily talk to you anywhere,” she says before taking a sip. “I decline if I don’t want their energy in my space. It’s icky to be in my bed, talking to a guy I don’t like. Some calls are… not pleasant and mess with my dreams.”

The shush of her clothes against the velvet of her chair betrays her movements. “Speaking of, how have you been sleeping?”

“I’ve been doing all of the things—going to bed at the same time every night, regardless of time zone, no blue light before bed, lukewarm showers at bedtime. It’s not great, but it’s improving.”

“Small victories. It was never going to happen overnight. What do I hear in the background?”

“U2, even when I’m not in Dublin…”

“Are you a huge fan of U2? You were wearing a concert T-shirt the first time we spoke.” She either has a mind like an iron trap, or she has a dossier on me. I favor the iron trap.

“Huge fan. I see them whenever they tour. I have everything they’ve ever released on vinyl to the best of my knowledge. I’m a music person in general, kind of obsessed with music from Ireland and the UK, 1960s and on. All of it. Julian and I—he’s my closest friend and only coworker at our Chicago office—go to a lot of concerts.”