Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,56

then back to me. “Zeke sure isn’t what I expected him to be.”

I stiffened. “What did you expect?”

She shrugged. “Alpha speak in grunts. Lack of interest in such things like high school football. Though I don’t think his presence at the game had anything to do with high school football.”

She made sure to make her meaning clear. What she didn’t do was gaze at me with judgment or disgust.

“He was there because he has in interest in protecting his daughter,” I replied, voice clipped.

“Sure,” she said. “But he seems like the kind of man that can multitask.”

“What are you trying to say here, Alexis?” I asked.

“I’m trying to say you’re alive, Bridget,” she said softly. “And you’re allowed to act like it.” She drained the last of her wine and stood up. She rounded the coffee table to lay a kiss on my cheek. “Good night, big sister. Don’t be afraid to do the things that keep your heart beating fast.”

“Bridget?”

I looked up from my laptop, my eyes taking a second to focus. Once I did, it was clear that it was not the first time she had called my name.

“What?”

She grinned. “I was asking you if you wanted me to pick up something for dinner on my way back from looking at an office space. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, only now noticing the dull ache. The delicious pain between my legs had been something I’d been unable to ignore, hence me trying to find a distraction. And for once there had been no laundry, no cleaning, no errands to run, no groceries to be bought.

There was an itch under my skin. A fullness to me that felt uncomfortable, unbearable. So I opened my laptop. And started writing.

Four hours ago.

“You’re not interrupting,” I said. “I just lost track of time.” It was after four. Panic ran through me. “The boys?”

“They’re good. Ryder took Jax out for milkshakes. Luna, too.”

I sagged ever so slightly, but my body was still tense with the idea that I was a terrible mother.

Alexis eyed my laptop. “Online shopping?”

I bit my lip. A lie would be easier. Better. I didn’t even really know what I’d written yet. What it was going to be—if it was going to be anything. There was a danger in speaking about such things too early. A kind of self-fulfilling failure prophecy.

But I couldn’t lie to my sister. I was already planning on lying to her about where I’d been last night, the relationship I had with Zeke. Despite the fact I wished I could say last night was a one-time thing, even I wasn’t that adept at denial. This was something. A craving my body would not be able to satiate with one single night. One amazing night, to be sure, with more orgasms than I could count.

“I’m...writing,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “Writing?”

I nodded. “Before you start slinging the I told you so’s or getting too excited, I don’t even know what it is yet. It could be nothing.”

“Or it could be something.”

I scowled at my sister. “Your eternal optimism is incredibly irritating, just so you know.”

She grinned back, taking a seat at the table. “Oh, I know. But I don’t care.” Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “What’s got you so inspired?”

I swallowed lead. On the short walk home in the early hours of the morning, I’d accepted the fact I would be going back to Zeke’s house. That I’d be engaging in some of the dirtiest, best, and most shameful sex of my life for the foreseeable future. Until it got boring, until I got more self-control. I didn’t foresee either of those things happening.

I made eye contact with my sister. “I guess I’m a little sick of myself,” I admitted. “There is only so long I can keep this whole thing up. And I’m not cut out to be a housewife. No way in hell I can go back to the Instagram Influencer bullshit. And I think my widow grace period has worn off.” I paused again, glancing to the collection of words on my screen, my twisty feelings all spewed onto a handful of pages on a computer.

“I want to be more than a mother. More than a widow. I need to be something for myself. Need to create something. Does that make me a horrible person?”

Alexis reached out to squeeze my hand. “Honey, no. It does not make you a horrible person. I’m happy that you’re doing something. You