After an intense stare-off, his smile widens. “Well, do you feel okay to like me now?” he asks in an almost condescending tone. His wide grin softens.
I bite my lip, internally arguing with myself, even though that boat has sailed and the deed’s been done.
“I’m not going to lie. I can be an asshole. I can probably be worse than that, but I don’t talk out of my ass. I like you, and I meant everything I said last night. So don’t spend the rest of the day wondering if I’m genuine or not. I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
He says all of this casually, but with it, I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. I bite my thumb, letting everything Cal’s just said sink in.
“Still think I’m a jerk?”
I nod. “Maybe just little bit of a jerk.”
With that amused grin again, he stands and makes his way over to me. I let out a much needed breath and turn toward him on my barstool. He parts my legs, making the towel rise a bit over my thighs. He stands between them.
“Good, because I am. And I still think you’re a little bit neurotic,” he says, bringing his lips to mine and his hands to the knot in my towel.
I push his chest away playfully. He looks into my eyes, still grinning.
“You didn’t ask,” I scold him teasingly.
“I want to take your towel off,” he whispers in my ear.
I bite my lip and look up at him playfully. “No.” I shake my head, amused.
He looks at the ceiling, feigning frustration, then moves his face near my ear, kissing the skin beneath my earlobe. He makes his way to my neck, kissing it so softly the sensation makes my eyes involuntarily close.
“Please,” he says again, as his fingers trail between my thighs.
One slips inside me while his thumb plays around the only other area that’s much more sensitive. I can’t help the moan that escapes my mouth. I lean away from him a bit and slowly unravel the knot, letting the towel fall from around me. He licks his lips.
“You better get used to this,” he says, wrapping his arms around my bare back.
“Get used to what?” I ask, wrapping my legs around his waist. I guess I’ll just have to be a little sorer.
“Being in my house naked. I kind of like it.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.
I kind of like it too.
May 10th, 2011
May 10th, 2011
I’m awake. It’s early, and I haven’t slept much at all. What happened last night consumes my thoughts, plus Cal was constantly tossing and turning in the full-size bed that was comfortable to me as a teenager, but now feels cramped for a woman and her six-foot husband. Even if he’d been still, I doubt I could have slept. A million thoughts have been running through my mind. I keep going over all of the things I’ve accepted, all of the times I’ve forgiven, that I’ve caved despite my better judgment. I glance at him, and he seems to finally be still, resting. I double-check to make sure he’s sound asleep and ease out of the bed as quietly as I can. Grabbing his phone off the dresser, I tiptoe out of the room and pull the door shut.
I have never invaded Cal’s privacy, not once. But there is a first time for everything, and this is completely warranted. I need answers, and I need them now—if I have to snoop for them, so be it. I hit the power button, and of course, it’s password protected. I tiptoe past Raven’s bedroom and down the stairs to find the cordless house phone and dial Cal’s number. When it rings, I answer it and put it on speaker so that I can get into his contact list.
I only want Dexter’s wife’s phone number. If I hadn’t thrown my own phone off the balcony before I left home, I wouldn’t have to do this, but that’s beside the point. I’m tempted to go through the call history. After a short debate, I give in, and when I search through it, I see it’s been cleared. I roll my eyes. He wouldn’t need to delete his call history unless he had something to hide. But I knew that already, didn’t I? I grab a pen off the end table and write Helen’s number down on a piece of paper.
Resting Cal’s phone on my lap, I sit back on Raven’s plush lounger and dial Helen’s number on the house phone. I hope she’ll answer an unknown number. I know it’s a long shot; it’s only six thirty in the morning.
“Hello?” she answers, and I thank God for my luck.
“Helen. Hi, it’s Lauren. Is this a good time?” I say quietly, not wanting either Raven or Cal to hear me.
“Lauren? How are you? And where are you calling from? I almost didn’t answer. Is everything okay?”
“Um, that’s actually why I was calling you.” I glance at the hallway to make sure no one is there. “Has Dexter mentioned anything to you about him and Cal having a falling out?”
“No, I don’t think so. You know how they are though. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that Dexter called Cal yesterday and told him something that really upset him. I thought it might have been business related. Or if not, maybe you have some idea what happened.”
“Dex hasn’t said anything to me, but he doesn’t usually keep me up to date on his business affairs.” She laughs.
“And if it wasn’t business related?” I ask.
“Dex is in Ireland right now. I can have him give you a call—”
“I’m asking you, Helen,” I interrupt, hoping the urgency in my voice is apparent. “Is there anything that you can tell me, anything I should know?”
Helen and I have never been the best of friends. Yet we still share a bond, even if unspoken. We both are in love with men who seem to only trust their secrets with each other. However, I believe Helen chooses to stay in the dark, while I’m forced to. I’ve never talked to her about my relationship with Cal. I’ve never dragged her into our personal affairs or thrown myself into theirs, but today, I’m hoping she hears my plea and, by some miracle, offers me something to go on. I think I’ve shocked her, since there is a long pause on the line.
“I’m sorry, Lauren. Dex hasn’t told me anything.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course he wouldn’t.” I don’t believe that at all.
“Lauren, I’m sorry, but…”
Cal’s phone suddenly vibrates in my lap, making me jump. It’s an unknown number.
“I’ve got to go, Helen. Thanks anyway,” I say before hanging up.
I stare at the cell phone and contemplate whether to answer it or not. I’ve already snooped for numbers—might as well go all the way now. I pick up the phone and bring it to my ear. I don’t say anything, hoping that the person on the other line will say something first. Seconds pass, but the person on the other end remains silent.
“Hello?” I finally say out of frustration. The person on the other end of the line doesn’t say anything. “Is anyone there?”
“I’m sorry. I have the wrong number,” a voice says and abruptly hangs up.
A woman’s voice, older than me, maybe around Raven’s age. It doesn’t sit right with me. I call the number back from Raven’s phone.
“Thank you for calling Madison General Hospital. Your call may be recorded for quality review. A representative will be with you shortly,” the recording tells me.