Relief washed over me, though I didn’t exactly believe her. I wanted to believe her. “I’m glad you said that. You have no idea how much.”
Then my chest felt heavy again, because while the elephant in the room was no longer present, that unspoken tension remained. No matter what we told each other right now, something had changed. Our words weren’t coming as easily, and I could hardly look at her without remembering how she tasted. In fact, I could hardly look at her at all. Meanwhile, her eyes were on my lips. If coming over here was a test to see if things could feel “back to normal,” we’d failed miserably.
I had to give her credit for trying to convince herself our friendship could pick up where it left off. But it wasn’t working because I could see in her eyes that she felt the change in our dynamic, too.
Adrian was right. He was damn right, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
I ended up taking the cowardly way out.
“Alright, well, I have a phone meeting with my supervisor. I just wanted to bring you your coffee and see how you’re doing.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, but it seemed fake.
Fuck.
I walked over to Sunny. “Be good for your mama.” She took the toy she was biting on out of her mouth and flashed me a wide grin. Not sure why, but that smile kind of hurt this time. Maybe because deep down, I knew I’d be seeing it a lot less. That is, if I could stick to doing what I needed to.
CHAPTER 13
Carys
HE WASN’T ALONE
I couldn’t believe I was thinking this, but I wished Deacon had never gone down on me. I wished I had never heard him groaning against me. I wished he’d never given me the most amazing orgasm of my life. I wished I could erase that night altogether, because nothing had been the same since.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew he’d been keeping his distance since my birthday. It had been a week now, and it was clearer by the day that we’d ruined a perfectly good friendship. What bothered me the most was the sense of false hope I’d had after that night—that somehow Deacon would decide he wanted to be more than friends. Instead, I hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. Normally he would’ve stopped by with another coffee by now, but he had chosen to distance himself. Not sure I could blame him. The last time he was here, things were awkward. And I hated that. Things had never been that way before—sexually tense, maybe, but never awkward.
Poor Sunny.
As I sat ruminating about Deacon, I’d been feeding her mindlessly, causing some of the rice cereal to dribble down her chin.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. Mommy’s mind is somewhere else today.”
Thankfully, Sunny simply opened her mouth wider for the next bite. Didn’t take much to please her.
After Sunny’s early-intervention therapist came for her visit that morning, I decided we needed to get out of the house. I found a “Mommy and Me” class with drop-in availability in the afternoon, so I packed up a diaper bag and took my daughter out for a change of scenery.
For an hour, I did yoga poses while holding Sunny, and she seemed to love it. I also got to talk to other moms, one of whom was single like me. It felt damn good to get out, and I vowed to do it more often. The only times I usually left the house were to go to the office or for some quick food shopping. That needed to change.
After the session, I took Sunny to the neighborhood Starbucks. After wiping down the highchair, I fed her bananas while I sipped my latte. It had started to rain, so I was thankful we’d made it close to home before the weather got bad.
It had been such a relaxing day. But that all ended when Deacon walked into the café. Raindrops covered the front window, so I’d had not even a few seconds’ warning before he entered. My heart beat faster as I watched him. The worst part? He wasn’t alone.
I recognized the girl with him—Kendra, the redhead he’d taken back to his apartment at least once before.
Why did this have to happen? Both times I’d come here recently I’d run into him. Maybe a part of me hoped to run into him. But certainly no part of me had hoped to run into him with her.
When our eyes locked, I swallowed the tension in my throat.
He had no choice but to come up to us, but I wished we could’ve bypassed this uncomfortable run-in altogether. I wished we were invisible.
“Hey, Carys,” he said stiffly.
“Hi.” I could barely look at him. Instead, I looked at her. “Nice to see you again,” I lied. It was pretty sad that looking at her was easier than looking at him.