Page 21 of Tear Me to Pieces
I was married for years, and not a single time could Matthias have cared less about whether I enjoyed mymarital duties. If the man knew what a clitoris was, he sure as heck didn’t show it. I guess it’s not surprising, considering any woman who did enjoy something like that would likely be considered wanton. Less desirable for it. Anything that may have brought any sort of happiness was designated impure or uncouth or ungodly.
And right now I’m feeling very ungodly.
Without his shirt on, the scent of Simon’s skin permeates the air, surrounding me with an oaky spiciness I wish I could bottle and spray everywhere.
By some miracle, I manage to sneak past him without dropping a plateful of a potato down the front of his well sculpted chest. Once I’m inside his camper, I go straight for the table and chairs, deciding they might be a better option than reclining on the sofa with a half-naked Simon only a few feet away. At least this way there will be a big slab of wood between us.
I stop at the edge and carefully lower each of the plates to the surface. “It’s nothing fancy.” I peek over one shoulder, giving him a smile as I repeat the words he said to me about the dinner he made last night. “But it should keep us from starving to death while we work.”
“Fancy is overrated.”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the nearness of Simon’s voice. The only thing that keeps it from happening is that the entirety of my body is in the process of melting at the rumbly tone in my ear. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his body at my back. We’re not touching, but all it would take is a slight shift on my feet and our bodies would be pressed together.
And that’s way more tempting than it should be.
“Sometimes fancy is nice.” I force my brain back to the conversation and away from half-naked Simon. “Champagne is pretty great. It’s also fun to dress up sometimes.”
Simon pulls out the chair closest to me, tipping his head toward it. “Do you go to many events where you get to dress up?”
“Not as many as I’d like. But the day spa where I work hosts two galas a year, and the next one is in a few weeks.” The first one I attended was held right when I started—back when I was in training and didn’t really know anyone. It was fun, but I think this one will be a totally different experience because now I have friends and don’t feel so out of place. “It’s not black-tie, but it’s close.” I slide into the chair Simon is still holding onto, giving him a small smile. “I probably need to start looking for a dress to wear, now that I’m thinking about it.”
Simon settles into the seat across from me, picking up his fork. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”
Do I? I don’t feel like I do. In fact, I purposefully shove things off of my plate because I don’t quite know how to make them fit. There’s plenty of room, I just can’t wrap my head around the way they need to be served.
“Not really. All I do is work, honestly.” My face is turned toward my plate, but I peek up at Simon through my lashes, feeling a little exposed when I admit, “I wish I had other things on my plate, but I guess we can’t all have what we wish for.”
Simon motions to my fork, lifting his brows until I pick it up and take a bite. Once I do, he finally digs into his own food, shoveling in a mouthful of fried potatoes before asking, “What do you wish was on your plate?”
I take a deep breath, realizing I’ve probably admitted too much. I haven’t confessed my deep desire to have children to anyone—not even Lydia—and it feels weird admitting it to Simon over a casual breakfast. I decide to keep my answer as neutral and uninteresting as possible. “I’d like to get my house a little more livable for starters. Probably look into building a garage or maybe a carport in the back.”
Simon nods, listening intently to my half-assed aspirations. “Those are both really doable things.” He lifts one shoulder, letting it drop like it’s not a big deal. “All you need is a plan.”
“I’m not so great at planning.” I wish I was. It’s the discovery about myself that I found the most embarrassing and frustrating.
Matthias always acted like I wouldn’t be able to live without him. And while I’ve proven that belief wrong, I haven’t really shown I’m capable of livingwellwithout him. Life is hectic and loud and chaotic. Making decisions is stressful and confusing and hard. It’s easier to just not do it. But then I end up stagnant.
Like I am now.
“I guess it’s your lucky day then, because I’m famous for my ability to make plans.” Simon shovels in another mouthful ofthe breakfast I made him, looking a little smug about his—admittedly enviable—talent for adulting.
“I feel like you’re rubbing that in.”
When he points at my plate, I take another bite, managing to enjoy my food while it’s hot because he keeps me focused.
That’s another thing I’m not great at. Keeping my train of thought.
At work, I’m fine. Everything moves so fast I don’t have the chance to lose track of where I’m at. But at home? I’ve walked around for an embarrassingly long time wearing only one shoe because I kept forgetting to put the other one on. I’ve almost peed my pants because every time I went to use the bathroom, I found something in need of my attention. Almost all my clothes go through three fluff cycles before I manage to get them out of the dryer.
Then one more before they get folded.
Who I am now is such a stark contrast to who I had to be when I was married, that some days it’s hard to believe past me even existed.
Maybe she didn’t.
“That doesn’t sound like me.” Simon offers another grin. “I’m the humble sort.”
My eyes wander, working their way over his shoulders and pecs. “You probably shouldn’t be.”
