Page 17 of In Their Hearts
I need my next plan. I’ll need to get back to my apartment after the reception. I know they won’t take me, so I will have to find someone to give me a ride. Stella will be there. Maybe she can or knows someone who would.
Then the real decisions start. I need to get back to my life without Clay interfering or hovering. Working is out of the question. I really should go to therapy for my foot; I don’t need any permanent damage because I’m too stubborn to go.
If I’m being honest, having him around hasn’t been all that bad. But I can’t admit that.
And Grant. I can see why they’re married and very much in love. Hugs, kisses, and whispered I love yous. They’re married. Happy.
I didn’t get that chance. And I’ve never allowed myself the option to love again… or try. I’m a complete disaster. Who wants to date someone like that? I’m also not one to interfere in people's relationships.
They don’t need me, yet I can’t understand that kiss from Clay. And he hasn’t kissed me again. Was it that… bad? God, it probably was. Can a person forget how to kiss?
Mortification crawls under my skin. Apparently, I did.
That kiss shattered my sanity because my mind won’t stop thinking about it. His hot lips in the cold. His body pressed against mine. He literally took the words out of my mouth.
Ugh. Maybe I do need to go to therapy. That just went to the top of my to-do list.
I’ve never felt so mixed up. And over a man that’s married? One doesn’t get more unavailable.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but my feet freeze as I leave the safe space of the bathroom.
Dressed in open white collared shirts and pressed black pants.
Hot damn.
That ache—between my thighs—it’s back, stronger. Making it known that we like what we see.
And there goes my brain shorting out again. Losing all thoughts. Words.
I clear my throat, “I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m ready when you guys are.” My traitorous eyes steal one more glance before walking out of the bedroom.
Those are men.
Hot. Grown. Men.
That's what my body seems to want. I can’t deny that any longer.
“Damn woman! It’s freezing in here.” Grant says as we enter my apartment.
He’s not wrong, and I’m kind of glad Clay whisked me away. Thank God, I don’t have to shower here. It’s like stepping into a freezer, or what I would imagine that feels like. I'd better make sure my space heater is in my bedroom for tonight.
“I’ll be quick.”
My bedroom feels just as cold, but I go to my closet to pull out my black dress and one black heel. This will look lovely with my black boot. Ugh. I hate this thing.
At least if I wear a heel on my other foot, I shouldn’t limp as badly, and maybe not a complete catastrophe.
It just takes me a few minutes, and I’m ready. I head back to where I left Clay and Grant.
Clay is staring at an envelope. It can’t be another letter. I already got the one and only letter that I dread.
That’s over.
So why is his frown deepening?
“This is the same envelope as that last letter.” Clay points out.
What?
