Page 118 of The Game Plan
I inhale through my nose and exhale slowly, closing out of my social media app and tapping his name. I stare back at the last message I sent.
Good luck this weekend! We’ll be rooting for you!
He never responded. He’s busy, and my cheeriness felt fake. I can admit that.
Hey, are you at the hotel?
The dots appear right away.
Sunshine: Yeah. I’m with the coaches at the hotel bar. Everything okay?
Yeah, I just miss you.
I press the heel of my hand to my chest.
Sunshine: I miss you, too. You okay though? Really?
Closing my eyes for a second, I type the words I’ve been holding back. I hate that texting him “I miss you” triggers this reaction.
I’m sorry you saw the house listing. It was never my intention for you to see it. I don’t think I even wanted to leave. It was a moment of weakness and I feel terrible that I planted doubt in our marriage. I don’t know what’s going on in my brain…
There’s a pause, and I struggle to breathe.
Sunshine: Peach, I know you’re struggling. You don’t have to apologize for that. But I do wish you’d talk to me instead of shouldering everything alone. I’ll remind you again, for better and worse.
I didn’t want you to see how bad it’d gotten.
Sunshine: Too late. I see you, Peach. Every day, I see every version of you. I’m watching you slip away and it kills me, but I still love you.
Tears fall, and it feels like a mental release. He still loves me, even though I’m not me. He sees me, and he still cares.
Sunshine: You crying, baby?
Shut up lol
Sunshine: Good. Maybe you’ll purge that shit out of your system instead of keeping it locked inside.
I wish you were here.
Sunshine: Me too.
No, like I really wish you were here…so I could show you how sorry I am.
I can picture him letting out a silent groan and scraping his hand down his face as he hides his smirk.
Sunshine: Fuck, Peach. You can’t say those things, not when I’m sitting at a bar surrounded by men…and my dad.
I knew it. I laugh, biting my bottom lip. The heat blooms low in my stomach. It’s been weeks since he last fucked me in his bed, a year since we’ve gotten naughty through texts.
Fuck it.
Baby girl is out cold…and I’m wearing a sexy little nightie. It’s less material than my blue one I wore for you. And I might be thinking of all the dirty things we could do in our bed.
The dots appear. Then disappear before reappearing again.
Sunshine: Jesus. Give me five minutes to get to my room.
I take advantage of him needing five minutes, because I may have fibbed about my outfit. Tossing the phone aside, I run to my dresser, digging through my pajamas until I find a pink lacy nightie. The lace does nothing to cover my breasts, with the top being completely sheer. I glance in the mirror and fluffmy freshly blown-out hair. The dark circles are softer from my facial. Dabbing on a little gloss, I jump on the bed as ‘Sunshine’ flashes on my screen.
