to kiss me.
Maybe he didn’t.
Ugh. I wished I could stop second-guessing everything and just go with the flow. This didn’t have to be complicated. This could be as simple as me inviting a friend over to hang out. A friend who gave me tingles.
Everyone kept telling me to go for it. The only person holding me back was me.
As I opened the door, my cat bolted out, and I could only gape as he ran into the woods. Seriously?
I could have chased after him. In the dark forest, at night, in winter. I preferred to live and see the morning. This wasn’t the first he’d skedaddled by now. He’d returned each and every time, but just in case he lost his way and needed incentive, I’d have to remember to place bowls of tuna at the front and back doors.
I entered the house to find it chilly and musty. Kind of unpleasant actually, which drew my gaze to the kitchen cupboard and the garbage. I’d forgotten to take it out. Had Winnie?
On my way to the kitchen, I got distracted. Was it me or did the place look a bit shabby? I frowned. I couldn’t have put my finger on why it suddenly seemed that way, only that looking around, everything appeared a little more worn than I recalled. Dusty, too. I ran a finger over the console table, and it came away dirty.
Maybe it was just finally time for a deep clean. Maybe I’d been deluding myself about the house taking care of itself.
The idea of cleaning on a Saturday night was pathetic even by my standards. I should be hanging out with someone.
It took me a half-hour of pacing and running a rag over surfaces that appeared much dirtier than they should be before I geared up the courage to call Darryl, only to get voicemail.
Great.
I didn’t leave a message. Instead, I decided to have a bath in that massive claw-foot tub. I ran the water hot enough it steamed and added scented oils to it. I sank in with a sigh. Looking down at my bobbing boobs, I was reminded of what they could look like if I had them fixed like Trish and Winnie suggested.
Me? Plastic surgery? That was something the rich and famous did. Not an ex-housewife. Then again, I was now a divorcee, and only halfway through life. Did I want to live with this saggy body for another forty years? Afraid of intimacy for fear of judgment? Hating myself because I couldn’t love my body?
On the flip side, surgery? Being put under with a mask feeding me gas on my face, having someone take a knife to my flesh, trimming away the excess, stitching me up into something new? I could only imagine the pain and discomfort. I’d be in agony.
What of the complications? I’d heard they had to move the nipples. What if the nipple didn’t reattach? It might fall off. My stitches could split open. The—
Women did it every day.
The reminder slammed through my what-if moment. If other people could do it, why couldn’t I?
My cell phone rang, jolting me. I’d brought it with me into the bathroom, just in case.
Admit it. Just in case Darryl called.
I thrashed in the tub, trying to sit up. Without even looking, I grabbed the phone with slippery wet hands.
“Hello,” I said more huskily than I meant to.
“Well hello to you, too.”
Hearing Kane’s deep voice snapped my mouth shut. I’d not expected to hear him.
“Did that cat of yours get your tongue? It is a delicacy you know.”
“Why are you calling?” I’d not spoken to him since the window incident.
“Can’t a man check in on his lady?”
“I am not your lady.”
“Was I being too polite about what happened between us?”
“Are you calling me a whore?” I huffed, immediately indignant.
“A whore would have done more than slip me some tongue,” he said in a laughing, mocking tone.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I heard you had more trouble.” His voice hardened.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have to.”
On that we agreed. “Are you calling to tell me to leave town like your brother?”
He snorted. “Is he still trying that tactic? Idiot should know by now that you’re here to stay.”
“I haven’t actually decided,” I lied.
“You won’t leave.” He sounded so sure.
“I might if I keep being attacked.”
“Has someone come after you?” Again, his voice took on a low, dangerous edge.
As if he cared. Which made no sense. “Why are you really calling?”
“Would you believe