“Jesus. It was. Man, I.” Polly laughed and he hung his head. “Make out session of my life.”
“No kidding?”
“You’ve seen Audrey, you know she’s hot, but it’s more than that. Objectively Sky was hotter.”
“Oh shit, no you don’t.”
He knew what Polly meant. No, he couldn’t have a serious thing for Audrey. It had to be confused, crapped up with leaving Sky. It had to be proximity or some other weird science. Except it wasn’t. He’d never felt for Sky what he felt for Audrey.
The best parts of his day were when she raced past him in the mornings with a bunch of quick commands; crisp, official, tailored and severe, smelling of exotic scents, untouchable Ms Bates, with her hair so smooth and her makeup perfect. And when she staggered home at night, her hair loosened, wisps about her face, lips pale, feet hurting in her heels, a little worn but softer, calmer, more open. Turning to him for news of the day, for updates on Mia, for conversation that wasn’t about deadlines or milestones or office politics, unless it was about an appointment for Mia, or a new thing she’d learned, or gossip from playgroup.
With him, Audrey relaxed. She untucked, went barefoot, unpinned her hair. She laughed. She told him about her day, or waved it off to focus on his. She was home, and he was part of that comfort, and maybe it was that he loved, the way their different worlds came together so easily without judgement. But he was drawn to her. He’d kissed her like she was a new experiment in sensation, forbidden and familiar at the same time. He’d held her pressed against him, had her pulse thud under his fingers, and her tongue in his mouth and that, just that, chaste, no buttons undone, no flesh exposed, no hands anywhere too intimate made him want her like he’d never wanted any other women he’d kissed.
And she’d thanked him for reminding her how it was done so she could do it with someone else.
And she was so ill she might die.
Polly laughed. “If you could see your face.”
“I screwed up.” He’d read too much into it, made too much out of it. And now it looked worse than it was to a group of people who had Audrey and Mia’s best interests at heart. “And she’s so fucking sick, Pol.”
A slap on his back. “Buying you lunch.”
He had nothing else to do and Polly wasn’t in a hurry to get to the rest of his day. They ate. They shot the shit about stuff. Polly did all the work. Reece let him natter on and barely listened while he thought about all the ways he could’ve been smarter about Audrey, all the ways life would change without her. He tuned in when Polly mentioned Les.
“What’s Les’ story then?”
“Lawyer, works with Audrey. A friend. She was the only one I could think of to phone at Audrey’s work this morning.”
“What else?”
“Why do you care?”
Polly gulped the last of his ice water. “I like her.”
Reece stopped looking at the wall of liquor and looked at Polly. “You like Les. She’s not a pole dancer, a fitness trainer, a jockey or a cop.”
“Say it.”
“That she’s out of your league? That she’d eat you for breakfast? That she did?”
“That she’s fat.”
“Yeah, she’s heavy.”
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Me neither. Maybe I like her because she’s not a pole dancer, a fitness trainer, a jockey, or a cop. That jockey girl was hot, but she always smelled like horse. Les is not like any woman I’ve ever dated.”
“You’re not going to date Les.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think she’d spit on you if you were on fire.”
Polly rubbed his jaw. “This morning she might’ve set me on fire.” He grinned. “Man, she hated my very breathing presence.”