“No. Not at first. They warmed up once they found out about his bank account prospects. Then they were down on him again.” I click on some emails not really in the mood to rehash all this family drama.
My phone dings in my purse.
“Probably Dean.” Hannah side glances Victoria.
I pull it out of my purse and sure enough, she’s right.
Dean: Glad to see the wicked witch of the Midwest is still kicking.
Me: Please I’ve tried to drown her in a bucket of water. Nothing.
Dean: LOL…need me to come over?
Me: Nah, the girls are already in my office.
I glance up at the two sets of eyes focused on me.
“I think we should go to Torrio’s tonight.” Hannah nods like it’s already a done deal.
Me: They’re talking about going out tonight.
Dean: I thought we were having a slumber party. :(
“I can call Reed. He can pick up Jade from my mom’s.”
Me: I can come over all sloppy drunk and you can take advantage of me.
Dean: I prefer you coherent, but thanks for the offer.
Me: Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes I forget that I shouldn’t bring up drinking with you.
Dean: Don’t apologize. Part of sobriety is having to deal with the fact that everyone else in the world is not an alcoholic.
Me: You sure?
Dean: Definitely. Now what about tonight?
Me: I’ll have to get back to you.
“Why don’t you invite Reed and Chelsea can invite Dean?”
“What about you?” Victoria asks.
Me: Hold up. You might be getting an invite.
Dean: I’m not crashing girl’s night.
“I’ll be fine. If we’re at Torrio’s, I know plenty of people.”
Now Victoria’s gaze flickers to mine because I guarantee you we’re on the same page here—the silver fox.
“Cool. I’ll go text Reed.” Victoria slides out the chair and leaves my office.
“What do you say? Ready to let Dean come out and play?”
I drop the phone on my desk. “What does that mean?”
Hannah tilts her head in her classic, ‘you’re not a moron, you understand exactly what I mean.’ “You’ve been hiding him from everyone like he’s your mistress.”
“Technically, he’d be my… what would he be called?”
Hannah chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking.
“Misteress?” I offer.
“That’s lame.”
“Bushdog?”
She laughs.
“Fuck boy?”
She points her finger at me. “I’m not sure I care what that word is, but I like that one. God knows they have enough derogatory names for a woman who enjoys sex.”
“Masteress?”
“That sounds more like a dom. Not to mention I would never give a man the satisfaction as having master part of his name.”
“Oh, forget it. Dean’s not one of those anyway.”
Hannah snaps her fingers. “Manstress.”
I nod because she’s probably got it right. I lean back in my chair my thoughts heading in another direction. “Do you find it funny that there are all these names for women who sleep with married men, but none for the actual married man and none for a man who sleeps with a married woman?”
“Yet another example of why I started RISE. When I was getting divorced, Roarke Baldwin tried to find out if I was cheating. He had me followed, pictures of every man I had come into contact with since my separation came up, twisting the truth to try to get me to admit to something that wasn’t true. But Todd? Nope. My lawyer had hotel receipts for a room every Thursday. My lawyer had pictures of him groping her in public, them having sex in a lingerie changing room.”
“Ew.”
She nods. “But Illinois and their no-fault bullshit. Somehow Mr. Baldwin took me for more than that son of a bitch should’ve ever gotten.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I know I joke about you liking him. But I realize now why you must loathe him.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek again, her eyes darting around until they land on me briefly. “I do,” she says simply.
My phone vibrates on my desk.
She shakes her head as though the vibrating has stopped her train of thought. “Anyway, check with Dean. I’m going to call ahead and see if I can get us the curtained-off room.”
I’m giddy with excitement. It’s like Hannah’s got connections to the latest boy band and I’m thirteen again.
“Thanks, Hannah.”
She walks out, and I pick up my phone.
Me: You’re coming out with me tonight. It’s a speakeasy though. That okay?
My shoulders sway back in forth. My mood ten times better than after my mom threw her little tantrum.
Dean: I’d rather be coming inside you on my bed. And yeah, that’s fine.
Me: I never said that couldn’t be arranged.
Dean: Tell me more…
Instead of telling him anything, I place the phone between my legs under my desk and snap a picture. It’s teasing, clearly showing the opening of my legs with a triangle patch of my black satin panties visible.
I click send.
Dean: It’s so unfair, you can send me a pic with your clothes on and my dick goes as hard as granite. Am I supposed to send you an outline of my dick? Somehow, I don’t think it’ll have the same effect.
Me: That’s what you think.
A minute later my phone dings and sure enough, it’s the shape of his hard dick outlined in his boxers.
My mouth waters.
Decisions, decisions.
Torrio’s or Dean’s…
Can’t a girl have both?
Dean and I stand at the end of the alley where you enter Torrio’s. Trying to look inconspicuous waiting for Hannah, Victoria, and Reed. His back is to the brick building, his hands on my hips, our lips attached.
Ever since this afternoon, I can’t seem to get enough of him.
“I wanted to clear something up,” he says, his hands sliding up and down my hips.
I rest my chin on his chest. “What?”
“This afternoon, I said I love you.”
“Oh.” My heart speeds up in my chest.
He shakes his head before I can say anything. “I just want you to know I meant it.” One hand tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “It wasn’t some declaration after an orgasm that I didn’t mean. I’ve never stopped loving you. I know we’re taking this slow and I don’t want to rush, but I didn’t want you thinking I said it just because my mind was in overdrive.”
I lay my cheek on his chest. The V-neck t-shirt he chose to wear is soft and edgy just like him. Most men will still be in suits, but I know he doesn’t care. His confidence never left him.
His arms tighten around my waist and I still don’t say anything.
Staring up at him again, I kiss his jaw.
“I love you, too. I thought that love died, but it never really did. It was laying dormant. Waiting.”