Page 39 of Savage in the Sheets
“If we come back from this, nothing should stop us from coming back from that, right?”
I nod thoughtfully.
If we come back from it.
I exhale slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Why don’t we give it a week. No communication aside from a confirmation text. If we decide to give it a go, we reconvene Saturday at my place.”
“No masturbating!” she interjects.
I smirk. “No masturbating.”
She nods.
I give her forehead a kiss, which is a bold overstep, but I just can’t help myself.
“One week,” she says.
“One week.”
Jenna
Now that I have something to look forward to, the days go by slowly, determined to make me take notice of every passing minute.
I’ve nearly texted Weston half a hundred times. Heck, at one point, I slipped on some lingerie, threw on a big coat, and started walking to surprise him at his apartment.
Only to turn back a block away, suddenly worried I’d find him with another woman.
It’s become obvious to me that things will never be the same between us. It’s hard to come back from what we’ve done, and even harder coming back from what we’re going to do. But that doesn’t stop me.
Unfortunately, I’ve had no one to talk to about my situation. Angela flew to Vegas for the weekend, and she’s the only person I trust.
Elliot pokes his head into my office, and my cheeks flush bright red.
“Morning,” he says timidly.
“Morning.”
He steps inside, closing the door behind him.
My anxiety spikes, dreading any interaction with him after the banana debacle.
“I just wanted to make sure we’re okay,” he says in earnest.
I force a smile. Elliot is a good guy. A great one, actually. He loves his wife and dotes on his children. He’s never been creepy, and we work well together.
“I hope that we are,” I reply, “but this is very awkward for me.”
He takes a seat at a chair I have reserved for guests. “So, how did it go?”
My eyes widen, surprised by his audacity. “Excuse me?”
A look of fear flashes across his face. “ I meant the date! I assumed you were seeing someone you really liked, and I’m always telling you about Wendy. I figured you might need to open up.”
“Oh, gosh—I’m sorry.” I chuckle lightly. “He is special, but it’s not really going to happen between us. We’re basically friends.”
His brow creases. “It’s not that Weston guy, is it?”
“Yeah,” I say sheepishly.
