Page 132 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
Oh boy.“Thank you for asking, Henry. I think that would be fine.” This couldn’t be any more awkward.
Adjusting his stiff posture, he leans toward me, bumping his nose into mine.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He takes off his glasses and tucks them into his jacket pocket.
“It’s okay.”
He tries again and my mouth is cavity-searched by his tongue. Trying to give this a chance to improve, I close my eyes. The instant I do, Nicco floods me. Drowning out Henry’s inexperienced tongue probing in and out of my mouth and slobbering all over my lips, erotic images of Nicco making love to me overtake my thoughts.I can’t do this.
I push Henry off me.
“Henry, I’m sorry,” I say, standing up, dabbing at his saliva around my lips with the side of my index finger. “I can’t do this.”
The eyes of a wounded puppy stare up at me. “Did I do something wrong?”
I pull in my lips and shake my head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been so kind to me and I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.” I pause.
He stands up, hurt eyes shifting back and forth between mine. “Then what is it?”
I take his hands in mine. “The truth is, my heart belongs to someone else. And, until I can get over him, it’s not fair to you if we continue down this path.”
“Oh.” He looks down at his feet then releases my hands. “I understand.”
We go back into the house, his tail hanging between his legs. I walk him to the door and he turns to me. We stand in the spot where I’d gaze into Nicco’s eyes and he’d kiss my cheeks.
“When you’re over him, you know where to find me.” A hopeful smile strains his face.
“I do.”Though I’ll never look for you.After feeling what I felt for Nicco, our connection, our intimacy, our passion, I won’t settle ever again.
“Good night then.”
“Goodbye, Henry.”
Shutting the door behind him, I get our wine glasses from the porch and lock up. Putting his glass in the sink, I refill mine and turn on the fireplace and some music.
I go upstairs and change into my pajamas, grab my stuffed pig and journal, and go back downstairs. Taking the blanket off the corner of the sofa, I sit down and wrap it around me. Desperate to erase the last few hours, I close my eyes and try to meditate.
As I focus my breathing, Nicco’s face appears. The wind blows his hair and his smile I’ve grown so fond of warms me. I open my eyes, blowing a heavy exhale.Please go away.
Nicco
I’ve been watching Destiny’s progress from my private Instagram account and I was so happy to see her hit #1 Best Seller all on her own. I knew she could get her success back without my following. I’ve been so busy with my projects, I didn’t have time to read her book. With hours of flight time to L.A., I finally get to read it. While I know her work is fiction, the second I read the prologue, I know it’s me. And now, I’m going to fix the mess I made and tell her how I feel.
As I pull up the street toward her house, a man walks down her driveway and gets in his car.Henry? Fuck.I didn’t stop to think she might be with Henry. Is it even Henry? The thought of someone else being with her twists a knife in my soul. Maybe her bookwascompletely made up and I’m fucking wrong. Does she feel nothing for me? Are we to be strangers now?
The man drives away and I pull into the spot in front of her house. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe Ishouldleave her alone. Fuck that. I’m not giving up. She wants someone to fight for her? That’s exactly what I’m here to do.
I get out of the car and walk around to her back porch, taking off my shoes and socks before stepping into the sand. She’s sitting on her sofa with her eyes closed. Standing in the cool sand, listening to the distant lull of waves, I watch her. She’s so fucking beautiful.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I call her.
Startled, she picks up her phone and stares at it, then looks up at the ceiling. Putting her phone back down, she drops her face into her hands. The call goes to voice mail.
I call again.
Lifting her face from her hands, she picks up her phone again, running her finger across her upper lip as she stares at the screen. She swipes.
“Hi, Nicco.” She stands, putting her blanket on the sofa. “I, uh, I’m sorry I missed your call. I was, upstairs.” Pointing up, she lies then puts the palm of her hand on her forehead. “How are you?”
