by Leigh Lennon
I made one phone call with my contact at the film studio, and my client’s complaint of his trailer and dietary restrictions was taken care of when I sent over the contract. I earned my pay for the day and laughed at this thought. Ten minutes at my hourly rate would show the entitled prick not to mess with me again over trivial silly shit.
Work was not holding my attention, and it wasn’t as though I could spend some time with the two girls who called me Uncle Jack. They had left for New York and would be gone for an entire year.
I’d poured all my life into my career, and if last night showed me anything, I had to start trusting myself again. When I walked away from the people I loved, I realized I needed to find myself, and when I did, I re-emerged back into society. But I hadn’t taken a chance with someone I could see a future with. Could Clara be that? Only time would tell, but I know I was ready to trust myself to find out.
My phone alerted me of my text the second I turned my lamp off, deciding to call it quits for the night. Bringing it toward me, I saw it was an unknown number, and my fingers trembled as I pulled the cell to me.
Unknown number: Hey, it’s Clara. I got your number from Elliot.
It was simple and to the point. Not many pleasantries but what was I expecting. It’s Clara. You fucked me so good the other day that I need you again. Sure, that was the dream, but hell, I could still work with it. Programming her number in immediately under her name, I responded.
Me: How’s your son?
Simple enough, right? It was the burning question in my mind—besides when could I see her again. The bubbles appeared under my text.
Clara: He’s better. Gave me a fright. Just got him in bed. And the day has been one from hell! Sorry, I was going to reach out to try to find you.
So, it was not the whole you fucked me so good bit, but this was promising.
Me: I’ve been thinking of you and your little boy a lot. I’ve been worried.
It was the truth.
Radio silence on her end, and I waited until it was obvious she was done for the night, returning my phone to the nightstand. My tired body from ten minutes ago was nowhere close to falling asleep, and my thoughts were on us in the bathroom. It’d been so long since I’d been with a woman—hell, with anyone for that matter—and I got a glimpse of affection, and now I wanted more. I was talking myself out of sending her another text when my phone chirped at me again.
Clara: Sorry, I was on the phone with my ex-husband. I didn’t mean to leave you that long.
Hell, I knew she had a little boy, and she’d mentioned her ex-husband, but I wasn’t prepared. But at least he was the ex.
Clara: Are you still there, Jack?
I’d barely been able to respond to the first text, so I typed out a quick reply.
Me: Oh, yeah, no problem. So your boy? He’ll be okay?
No bubbles appeared, and I hoped the ex-husband was calling her again, and that was the only reason and I hadn’t pushed too much. My eyes didn’t leave the screen when the bubbles appeared for a moment and disappeared quickly, and then her next text came through.
Clara: Yeah, he will be.
Ah, she was a private person. Nothing about the way her eyes flashed in an agonizing fear the other day told me this was just a minor incident, but I didn’t push.
Me: Good, glad to hear it. But what about you? Are you okay?
I’d barely gotten my last message off when she sent me the one text I’d been dreading.
Clara: Yeah, I’m okay. Listen, I’ve got to go. Good catching up with you.
And that was that. I’d wanted to ask what the hell had happened, but I let it be. Re-reading the texts, I tried to internally piece together where this had gone all downhill or why she rushed off the phone like she had. But the silver lining, like her hair, was that I had her number, and it was good enough for me—for now.
7
Clara
Was I okay? I had every intention of chatting with him more via text—maybe even flirting a little—but when he asked the deep question, was I okay, he had probably had the same connection as I had in the thirty minutes we’d been together. Giving up something as personal as my son’s illness or the utter mess I’d been upon getting the news from Daria that Declan was back in the hospital again was a step I hadn’t been able to take. It meant to give over a profound trust, and I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone after Bodhi detonated a bomb the size of China on our marriage.
And then there was Bodhi. Our connection was as innate as it had always been. The way he had my back in the hospital was reassuring. His hope and his overwhelming presence were the gift he’d always been to me.
There was a little bit—no, more than a little bit of guilt because I was fucking a stranger while my son was on his way to the hospital.
The trust was blown so sky high, and I had to remind myself of this every time I wanted to bend and let him back in my life. It would be so easy. Just because I kicked him out didn’t mean the love I had for him left.
Stopping my texts with Jack abruptly was not the plan when I sat down with a glass of wine. I wanted to get to know him a bit better. And I understood he dug too deep in a place where insecurity and vulnerability still lay rotting away my insides.
I jumped to my feet in an attempt to bring a semblance of calm to my body. Only one thing would make this right now, and I tiptoed to the other side of my apartment to peek in on Declan. He had his Paw Patrol blanket pulled up to his chin. The kid was always so cold, and the Papa, Mama, and Baby bears were lined up against his pillow next to him. The Mama bear was the closest as she always was.
Keeping the door cracked, I walked through the living space and back to my room where I had a wonderful view of nighttime in Chicago. The backdrop of the city in our first home, the one Bodhi and I decorated together, was much better and bigger, but for just the two of us, I downsized. Though I needed a home office and a dedicated guest room. It might be smaller, but the building was still high-end and had the security I needed to protect my son now that I was by myself.
I wanted some more wine and was curious if Daria was back for the night. Walking past the guest room, I saw she was still out on the mysterious date she’d been very tight-lipped about.
Returning to my room, I placed a pillow against the headboard and sat with my wine in one hand and my phone in the other. Should I text him back? He hadn’t said anything after I ended the conversation, but then again, I’d been curt. Finding his contact in my phone, I began to type.
Me: Hey, sorry I ended the texts so abruptly. Want to meet for coffee in the morning?
Placing my phone next to me on the bed, I drained my wine glass in the hopes I’d hear from him. Two nights ago, when he’d fucked me, it had been my intention to walk away. But the bond we shared, and the way his eyes followed me into the elevator as I was making my way to Declan, I couldn’t deny the immediate chemistry which was more than simply his rocking hard body.
The silence between us was deafening, and my heart raced. Had I misread him? No, certainly not. He’d reached out to Elliot to get my number, and though she didn’t give it to him, he’d made an effort to get back in contact with me.
I’d been smart to bring the entire bottle of Merlot into my room, and I’d refilled my glass with more than I needed. My wine glasses could hold more than half the bottle, and I’d poured what was left of my favorite red wine in my tumbler.
Moving my attention to the night sky of Chicago, I drained a long sip of my drink; all the while, my pulse hadn’t slowed. When my text alert pinged, it scared me, and I dribbled a little bit onto my black satin pajama set. Well, at least it didn’t stain horribly since it was black, but my concern wasn’t about my pjs. It was on who just texted me. I smirked at the name I’d programmed in when Elliot had given me his number yesterday.
Jack: Hey, I was afraid I’d frightened you off. And I’d love to see you. Could we do lunch? I have court first thing in the morning.
I’d planned to chec
k on Declan during lunch. However, I set my own hours, and if I wanted to take a longer lunch, who was going to fire me? Though my deadline was approaching very fast for book three in my Georgia Hearts series.
Me: Sure, could we meet near my office? I want to check on my son during my break. And as far as ending our chat abruptly, I’m not sure why I did. To be honest, I thought we’d just be a one-night stand.
I hit send and realized I just verbally vomited all over him. But it didn’t stop him from a quick reply.
Jack: You said you were divorced. I know it’s hard. I was not divorced, but I walked away from a long relationship, and when I realized I was wrong, the relationship was no longer something I could go back to.
I read his text over and over again. It was quite wordy, considering he could have said she had moved on.
Me: Do you still love her?
I waited a long time for his reply. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask me the same question because I couldn’t say I didn’t still love Bodhi; he still owned a piece of my heart.
Jack: Love yes, but not in love. We’re on good terms, thus the Uncle Jack.
Well, this made my heart flutter. His declaration caused me to feel a happiness I hadn’t experienced in some time. There was an aura about him I found intriguing, appealing, and sexy, but I didn’t know how to say that in an easygoing way. I decided to play it safe.
Me: I’m glad to hear this.
Maybe it was more flirtatious than I’d meant for it to sound. I stared at my phone, waiting for the bubbles to disappear and his reply to come through.
Jack: I’m happy that makes you happy. Can I be honest with you?
Me: Please do.
Jack: I really like you, and it may sound odd since we talked for a short time and then fucked like wild animals.
His text made me laugh so loud that a knock on the door scared me, and I was glad my wine had not been in my hands.
“Hey, what’s got you hysterical in here?” Daria’s olive complexion and pitch-black hair made its way into my bedroom with another bottle of wine and a glass. “Thought we’d talk for a couple of minutes since we barely had a chance the other night.”
The sneaky bitchity bitch wanted details and had not pushed me. But I wanted details, too, because she went out tonight and wasn’t sharing anything about it.
“If you want details, then you’d better share, too.” I pointed at her with my finger, along with stern words. Taking her thumb and index finger, she moved them to her lips, moving them from one side to the other.
“Yeah, you aren’t getting anything from me either.” I was staring at my phone when she moved closer, filling my wine to the brim and pouring herself some of my best wine.
“What has you smiling? Are you going to tell me what is up with you and the sexy lawyer?” she asked.
“Nope,” I replied. Pulling my phone close to me, I started to type my reply to Jack. Daria cuddled in bed near me and pulled out her own phone.
Apparently in my delay to text back, Jack sent me another one.
Jack: Shit, foxy, was that too blunt?
Me: Absolutely not. And could I be honest? Repeating our animalistic sex might be fun.
I probably shouldn’t text him when I was a little tipsy, but I had to say, I didn’t care. In the morning, I most definitely would, or that was the little feeling gnawing away at me.
My smile didn’t fade from my entire face, and Daria must have noticed it. “What the fuck has you grinning like a freak over there?”
“I’m texting Jack, but I won’t share if you don’t.” I was waiting for his reply when Daria let out the longest shriek.
“I can hold onto a secret, Bitchity Babe. You can’t,” Daria said.
Fuck, she was right when a ding told me Jack replied.
Jack: Yeah, I’d love that, but do you think I could take you out for a proper date first?
Thinking of the timeline and this weekend approaching, I double-checked my calendar on my phone since I was a little drunk.
Me: I’m only free Friday night. So if that works with you, then yeah, we could go out. But just so you know, on the days I’m not free, I will be hanging out with the coolest almost four-year-old. I won’t be going out on other dates.
We sat in silence as I waited his return.
Jack: You are very chatty tonight. Is this the norm for you? Because I have to say I fucking love it.
Me: I’m a little more reserved typically, but I’ve had a little bit of wine. Don’t let that fool you, though. I’d still agree to go on a date with you.
Jack: What about the part about repeating fucking like animals?
I snickered and snorted when Daria’s stare turned to me. “Classy, Clara.” I hit her, and we began to giggle like little kids.
Me: It may have been wine induced, but again the truth.
Jack: I really like you wine induced tonight and being a little more open. It turns me on.
Me: You’re turned on?
I hadn’t thought about what I texted and again, wasn’t concerned.
Jack: Fuck, yeah. I wish you were here. I’d show you what I’d do to you.
He was unleashing a little bit of his alpha male, and a part of me wished my best friend wasn’t in bed with me. And I decided since I’d regret nothing in the here and now, I’d tell him this.
Me: Fuck, if Daria hadn’t crawled into bed with me, I would suggest sexting. It’s not like we’re doing things in order anyway.
“Hey, you may regret some of your words tomorrow, Bitchity Babe.” We both began to laugh like hyenas.
“I should stop drinking in case Declan needs me.” She pushed to her feet, bringing me more wine.
“And that’s why Auntie Daria is here. I know how to care for the coolest little boy ever.” Her retort filled me with joy at how much she loved Declan. My pulse raced when Jack’s return text came through.
Jack: Hell, you are not only sexy but also funny as hell. I think we might be in for quite the ride. Have I mentioned I really like you, foxy?
My fingers began texting fast.
Me: I really like you, when I am or am not wine induced. You just found the more honest part of me. But Daria is back now, and she’s being a bitch and won’t tell me about her date. So I should go before I really embarrass myself.
Jack: No, I want you to embarrass yourself. Tell me something you normally wouldn’t tell me if you weren’t a little tipsy.
I tapped my chin as though he could see me, and Daria’s stare was still on me. “Bitchity Babe, what the fuck are you doing?”
“What’s the one thing I’d tell a stranger that I normally wouldn’t if I wasn’t drunk?”
Her laugh was louder than before. “You got drunk one night and stripped in front of our entire brother fraternity to “Dancing Queen.”” Oh, fuck, I’d never tell anyone that, not if I wasn’t a little overly tipsy, which I was.
Me: I got drunk and stripped to “Dancing Queen” by ABBA in front of our brother fraternity.
I hit send, and Daria took my phone from me. “Okay, that’s enough drunk texting from you.” Lying down, I didn’t remember closing my eyes, but I did remember smiling so hard, my face hurt.
I woke the next morning in a haze as the glow of the clock near me assaulted my eyes. Seeing the time, I popped out of bed so fast, the mother in me was mad as fuck at myself. What if Declan needed me? But that bitch of a best friend of mine kept filling up my wine glass. Grabbing my phone, I rushed to Declan’s bedroom, but the sounds of laughter beckoned me to my kitchen. Daria had Declan’s supplies out and had taken his blood sugar already.
Fuck, what was I thinking? As though my best friend read my mind with the disgusting look that had crawled over my face, Daria stood, bringing me a cup of black coffee. “No reason to beat yourself up. You would have never allowed yourself to drink like that if I was not here. The guest room is across from Declan, and he slept like a champ.” Pulling me in for a hug, she continued, “I got you, Bitchity Babe.” Her w
hisper wasn’t very quiet when Declan repeated her.
“I got you, Bitchity Babe.” I shot my gaze to him and then back at Daria. The kid barely spoke, but he took this opportunity to repeat her nickname for me right then and phonetically correct, to boot.
“Grown-up words, Declan. Remember,” I warned, and the kid was as smart as a whip.
“Growny werds, Mommy, Mama, Mother, Ma, Mom—I pomis.”
What could I do? This baby of mine owned my heart, and with a stifled snicker of Daria’s, I walked over to give him a kiss on the top of his head. My next destination was to find the ibuprofen. With my coffee in my hand, I swallowed four pills in one sip and then sat down at the table next to my son, attempting to plan my day.
Since I took some time off for Declan, my looming deadline meant I had to work today. The time was just seven, so I could still get a good majority done if I skipped lunch. But the word lunch launched a whole series of events, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. Daria looked over at me from where she was leaning against the wall separating my kitchen from my living space.
“Ah, you remember now.” Her snicker was certainly not helping my headache.
“Tell me I dreamed that. All from the animal sex to the admission of ABBA and our brother’s fraternity.”
“Wat tis sex, Anty Dari?” My head is in my arms when my son’s words hit me.
“This just seems to get better, Clara,” Daria crooned.
I reached for my phone like it was a tarantula ready to crawl up my arm, and her giggles continued, while I read some of our texts from last night.
“You didn’t tell me about the animal S-E-X,” she spelled the last word, “but do tell. I’d love to know more.”
My scowl found her amused smile, and when Declan wasn’t looking, I flipped her off. “And I won’t tell you more until you tell me about the guy you went out with last night.”
Declan was oblivious to the now PG-rated conversation we were trying to have as he ate the scrambled eggs and sausage Daria had cooked for him.