Page 105 of Sweeter Than Fiction

Don: You’re right. I guess I could just ask. So, Abby, what other kinds of things do you want to try?

His question catches me a little off-guard. Honestly, we’ve already done most of the stuff that I’ve always fantasized about.

Another text.

Don: And just for the record, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with sharing you. If that’s really what you’re into, I guess we can try, but just know, I might haul off and punch him the moment he touches you.

Before I got into a relationship, my feminism would scream that if a man came across that territorial, it should be a red flag. But now that it’s happening to me, I see it as more of a compliment. It kind of turns me on if I’m being honest.

Me: Don’t worry. A threesome doesn’t sound like my type of thing. You’re more than enough to keep me satisfied. But you kept saying ‘he’. Does that mean you’d want another woman?

Don: Nope.

Me: Care to elaborate?

Don: I like to give all my attention to one woman at a time. That way, I make sure she’s completely satisfied.

Lord, he really is perfect.

Me: Speaking of satisfaction, I miss you. Sorry I won’t see you tonight.

Don: I miss you too. But go hang out with Jenson. We can make up for lost time tomorrow. I probably won’t be home from this meeting until late anyway.

Me: Okay. Well, I love you.

Don: Love you more, baby.

I manage to get back to work for a little while and then decide to respond to a couple of emails regarding projects I’m working on. When a client asks when they can expect a final product, I pull up my calendar.

When I see what the date is, another date pops into my mind. A date that has come and gone without its scheduled event actually happening.

The date I was supposed to get my period.

Chapter Forty

Don

“Let’s talk about your next move, Donovan.”

Jim, my boss, sits across the large desk from me.

He goes on. “The apartments are almost done, and we are on track to finish earlier than expected thanks to you. I wanted to feel you out to see if you still like New York or if you’ve had enough of big-city living.”

“I’m liking New York,” I answer honestly.

“You sure?” He asks. “When you first got here, I know you were having a hard time with it.”

“It’s grown on me.”

He smiles and stands up, walking over to pour us each a small glass of bourbon. “Who’s the girl?”

“What?”

“You heard me. I am sure that it’s a woman…or women…who have changed you from a small-town boy to a city slicker.”

I grin back at him. “It’s just one.”

“Well, look at you. Finally ready to settle down?”

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