Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,98

her, but she pulled back.

“Are we alone?” she whispered.

“What? Of course. Are you expecting someone?”

She felt a wave of exhaustion. She’d used up so much emotional energy to get to the apartment, and now that she’d arrived, the most difficult part was still ahead of her.

She walked past him into the kitchen, checking the sink for any lipstick-stained glasses. He took the bag from her shoulder.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong with Sadie?”

She leaned against the counter. “Sadie’s fine.” Or, she would be. Heartbreak healed. At least for young people it did. She wasn’t so sure how she herself was going to cope.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Bridget saw you yesterday afternoon.”

“Really? Where? I didn’t see her.”

“I know,” she said, hugging herself. “Apparently, you were occupied.”

Steven looked at her quizzically, and then she saw the slow realization dawn on his face.

“She saw me with someone.”

“Yes,” Leah said, her voice breaking. She shook her head, trying to speak without crying. “I know things haven’t been great between us, but how could you . . .”

He took her hands. She looked into his eyes, bracing herself.

“It was Anouk Jansen. From the cheese shop,” Steven said.

“What?”

“That customer at Bailey’s Blue who gave you her card. She’s a real estate agent. I’ve been looking for a new space. I thought if I did all the legwork, if I found a great new spot for the store, you’d get excited about the idea.”

“This is about the cheese shop?” She pressed her hand to her forehead, remembering now the brunette in the shop the day Mrs. Fryer made a fuss about the landlord selling the building.

“She works with a lot of food industry clients, so she understands the need for refrigeration and display space, the health department codes—”

“So you’re not having an affair.”

“Leah, I love you. I am not having an affair. I’m sorry you would ever, ever think that I would.”

In an instant, the very idea that she’d accepted as fact just minutes earlier now seemed absurd. He wasn’t cheating on her. Their marriage wasn’t doomed.

She felt almost faint with relief. “But why didn’t you call me back last night?”

“I was worn out after the day at the store, running around looking at spaces, and then teaching the cheese class at eight. And yeah, when I get really tired, I’m a little pissed off that you’re not around. So that’s part of it, sure.”

The cheese class. She’d totally forgotten about it.

She reached for him, throwing her arms around his neck and inhaling the scent of him, fresh from the shower. The back of his hair was still damp. He kissed her.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, pressing her body against his. He slid his hands underneath the back of her T-shirt, and the simple motion gave her goose bumps. He kissed her and she could feel his arousal, and from somewhere deep inside, her own desire stirred.

If only they could stay like that, making out like teenagers. This, her body could do.

Steven took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. She’d been away so long that she noticed the scents of home she didn’t usually appreciate: the lavender sachets in her dresser drawers, the faint vanilla from her bedside candle.

“You’re going to be late opening the shop,” she said.

“I certainly am.”

Side by side on the bed, he tugged off her T-shirt and she wriggled out of her shorts.

She felt, unlike other recent attempts at sex, that it was crucial she find a way to get her body to cooperate. This was their reunion. This was the moment that would set the tone moving forward. If she wanted a novel-worthy happy ending, she needed to do her part.

Panicked, she willed herself to feel passion. Surely there must be some way to accomplish mind-over-matter. She thought back to the last time she’d felt turned on: it had not been with Steven. She’d been reading Scruples. And so she replayed the sex scene in her mind of Billy ravaging the helicopter pilot. She felt her pulse quicken, a flutter in her belly—enough response to at least accept her husband’s excitement, if not match it. When he stroked her thighs, his hands moving between her legs, she told herself that it didn’t matter if she felt pleasure. Going through the motions was okay. As long as her body cooperated enough for him to move inside of her, and it did. Thank god it did! Steven, lost in pleasure, kissed her neck, his hands winding in