Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“So tell us what happened between Oh, my gosh, my inmate husband has a secret baby and I smashed the man who put him in prison,” Yasmen says, resting her chin on her folded hands. “This is some Days of Our Lives shit.”
“Now that’s a show I miss,” Hendrix says. “My grandmother used to watch her stories every day when we stayed with her over the summer.”
“Same!” I say. “General Hospital with Grammy and all my abuela’s telenovelas.”
“Focus.” Yasmen claps thrice and bends a semistern look on Hendrix and me. “Now, one of our own got her back broke by a handsome accountant, and I want all the details before mommy curfew kicks in and I have to leave to check homework and make lunches for tomorrow.”
“Right.” Hendrix sips her water. “Priorities. Spill, Sol.”
“Well, I was distraught after seeing Amber,” I tell them.
“And you said, I know what’ll make me feel better,” Hendrix says, imitating my higher-pitched voice. “Judah’s dick.”
“Hen!” Yasmen’s lips twitch. “Let her tell it.”
I don’t want to laugh, but they make it so hard—and everything so much better—a chuckle does spill out before I resume my tale of tail.
“Well it was actually your fault, Hen,” I admonish. “You and Lola were the ones who told me that self-partnering didn’t mean I couldn’t take something for myself once in a while.”
“I will gladly take the credit.” Hendrix pats herself on the back. “If anyone deserves some pleasure, after what you’ve gone through this last year, it’s you.”
“I’m happy if you’re happy, Sol,” Yasmen says. “But why do I get the feeling it’s more complicated than a hit it and quit it?”
“He likes me,” I admit.
“We knew that since he came to the house looking at you like you were rolled in sprinkles,” Hendrix says. “You like him too. We know all of this. What we don’t know is how was the sex?”
I cover my face. “I’m in trouble.”
Yasmen pries my fingers away one by one, catching and holding my eyes. “It was that good?”
I lower both hands and sigh.
“I think in the back of my mind, as soon as he said his boys weren’t home, I knew it would happen.” I pause to give my next statement the gravity it deserves. “He was wearing glasses when I got there.”
They both gasp because we all know I have a spectacles kink.
“And you immediately wondered,” Hendrix intones without a trace of humor, “How does one best sit on a man’s face when he’s wearing glasses?”
“I did wonder that and not for the first time, yes.” I shrug helplessly. “They were black rimmed. I’m not made of stone.”
“Girl, no one could blame you under those circumstances.” Hendrix sips her tea. “Of course you went to him with legs wide open.”
“You’re two consenting adults,” Yasmen says. “You’re both single. You both knew what you were getting into, right?”
“Yeah, I told him that it was one time, and he understood. He asked if it was revenge because of what I’d just found out about Edward and Amber.”
“And?” Hendrix lifts dark, querying brows. “Was this some get your lick back sex?”
“No, it really wasn’t. I just wanted something for me. I wanted him for me, and I knew Judah wanted me. It felt good to be wanted like that. With him, it was the most beautiful…” I swallow a hitching breath. “It was so perfect. All I kept thinking was, I’m forty years old. How did I not know it could be like this? How did I settle for less than this for so long? And would I have kept settling if Edward hadn’t showed his whole ass? What if I had gone my entire life without this?”
It’s quiet at the table as my rhetorical questions hang in the air.
“He hasn’t been with anyone since his divorce nearly four years ago,” I go on, my voice weighted with the significance of that knowledge. “Like no dates. Nothing. He’s been celibate and doesn’t really do casual sex.”
“And you believed him when he said it would be a one-time thing?” Hendrix lightly coats her words with exasperation. “That man’s in love with you, Sol.”
“No.” I shake my head. “He can’t be.” I bite my thumbnail and give them a pleading look. “Can he?”
“How do you feel?” Yasmen asks. “Be honest with us. Be honest with yourself.”
I gulp back the excuses and wave away the smoke screen responses to give them the unfiltered truth. “I’m scared. What if the feelings I have aren’t just liking him, but not liking being alone? Not wanting to rely on myself because relying on a man was a habit?”
“You’re not asking him to pay your mortgage,” Hendrix says dryly.
“There are other ways to rely on someone, Hen,” I say. “This chapter is supposed to be about contentment—about discerning the difference between being alone and being lonely.”