Buzzkill.
He doesn’t talk for a while, and I wonder if he’s regretting bringing up the possibility of moving. Of course, I get my hopes up whenever he mentions a possible life change. Isn’t that normal? I don’t know many women who wouldn’t get excited about maybe moving into a nicer house.
“So was the guy nice to you at least?”
“Who?”
“The guy you were stuck in the truck with.”
“He was okay, I guess. He was kind of weird, like a hippie or something. He had a huge dog with him.”
“You’re lucky he found you.”
I meet his light blue eyes. I wonder if he can tell that another man has touched me and then gave me an assisted orgasm. Does it show somehow? I feel like it’s branded across my forehead.
“Yeah, I was very lucky. He had a bunch of food and water in his truck too, and a big thick blanket. If he didn’t have all that, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“It’s crazy. When the guy called me up to tell me, I thought he was kidding. It must have taken him about five minutes to convince me it wasn’t a joke.” He wipes his mouth on his napkin and lays it on his plate, signaling he is done eating. “When are you getting your car and going back to work?”
“I’m not sure about the car. The garage will call me when it’s done, then we’re going to have to go get it. I told Jack I’d be back on Friday.”
“All right. We’ll figure it out.” He stands up, pushing his chair back. “I’m going to go lay down. Come to bed when you’re done out here, okay?”
I nod vacantly. “Sure. In a few minutes.”
He leaves me sitting amongst the little Chinese food cartons and dirty plates. I’m not sure why I feel so out of place in my own home. Something feels different, but I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know if it’s Michael or me—but something just feels different, like something has moved out of place.
Maybe it’s the feeling of guilt, which is not a feeling I am used to at all. I’ve never had to feel guilty about anything before, but I do now. Being close to Storm, sleeping next to him in his bed when I clearly had a choice to not sleep next to him again, was wrong. Cuddling to prevent both of us from freezing was one thing, but to sleep in the same bed with him once we were out of the situation was a big mistake. Having orgasms in front of him was wrong on more levels than I can even count. If the situation was reversed, and I found out Michael had touched and rubbed up against, and then slept next to another woman, I would be livid and jealous out of my mind.
I pick up my fortune cookie and break it open to read my fortune.
How can you have a beautiful ending without making beautiful mistakes?
Fortune cookie is an insightful bitch. Shut up, cookie.
I head up to our bedroom after I clean up the kitchen. Michael is lying in bed watching the news, but he clicks off the TV when I get into bed beside him. He immediately turns on his side.
“Do you feel better now?” he asks, running his hand across my stomach under my tank top.