Page 114 of Just Trouble

Oh.

“She said he would leave me when it suited him, that he wasn’t the kind of guy to stay married for the duration. She said he was all about appearances, and tonight, he proved that she was absolutely right.” She shakes her head. “I feel so stupid that I didn’t see it sooner.”

I pull her close, more relieved than I can say.

But Daph pulls back to look me in the eye. “Is fidelity new for you?”

“Not technically. I never see multiple women simultaneously, because in the past, I’ve never spent more than one night with any woman.”

“That’s not the most compelling argument.”

“I guess not.” I lean my forehead against hers. “This is new for me, Daph. I think it’s awesome to be with you, to keep having more and more. I don’t want to screw it up, but I don’t really have a map. Please tell me if I take a wrong step.”

“You really mean that?”

“I do.” She looks puzzled but enchanted, and I have no clue whether I’m playing this well or not. This going-for-the long-term thing is complicated.

“You should have given him one of your Medusa stares,” I say without meaning to do so.

She’s amused, which is progress. “But then I’d have a statue of him on my porch forever.” She shudders in mock horror and then I smile. We smile at each other for one of those long potent moments and I swear, the temperature rises in the house, maybe in all of Empire. She’s pleased and reassured now, her eyes glowing, her smile radiant. I could look at her all night when she’s like this, but really, I want to do something else all night.

There’s no mistaking the welcome in her eyes, so I bend closer, then capture her mouth with mine. We have a long sultry sweet kiss. She’s flushed and her eyes are shining when I pull back a little to survey her.

“I’m thinking we should celebrate your new blinds,” I say.

“What? How?”

“Right here,” I whisper in her ear, grazing the lobe with my teeth. “Right on this counter. Right now.”

“Oh!” she gasps. “But we can’t.” She retreats, putting her legs together so that I’m standing beside her, leaving me out in the cold.

But why?

“You did it again, Daph,” I observe, not moving away, waiting.

“Did what?”

“Left me without a script. What’s going on? Why can’t we celebrate? What did I do?”

She looks alarmed. “It’s not you or anything you did, Luke.” She heaves a sigh. “It’s me. I’m on.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m cranky and I’m sore and I’m not fit company for anyone.” She sighs again. “No celebration tonight. Sorry.”

Oh.

“Don’t be sorry. It is what it is.”

“I am sorry.” She does sound grumpy and, in a way, she’s adorable like this. She makes me think of a wet kitten. I remember my mom, sometimes cranky, sometimes weepy, sometimes wanting to be alone and sometimes needing contact.

“Want a massage?” I ask.

“I couldn’t stand it,” she growls.

My mom told me once that the most helpful thing I could do was ask what she wanted, so I go with that. “Tell me, Daph. Should I stay or go tonight?”

“I don’t know!”

“Tell me how you feel.”

“Irritable.”

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