I take the long way home, trying to clear my mind.
I see that Noah’s car isn’t there, so I go straight to my door, opening it and letting myself in. There is nothing there to greet me. No noise, no music, nothing but silence.
It was something I used to crave. Now, I don’t know what the fuck it is.
I throw my keys on the table by the door, taking off my shoes and walking to the fridge. It’s empty. I slam it shut and grab the take-out menus from the drawer. I go through them, wondering what I want to eat. I know what I want to eat. I want to eat pasta at the table with Lauren and her kids.
Throwing the menus back into the drawer, I open the freezer and take out a frozen pizza, throwing it into the oven.
I walk over to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning the television on for some background noise. This is my life, the empty, the quiet. This is what I wanted, right? I never had ties, because I didn’t want them. But two days with her and her kids, and it’s something I’m rethinking.
The oven beeps, letting me know my pizza is ready. Getting up, I walk into the kitchen, my breathing and the low noise of the television the only sounds in the house. I eat the pizza alone, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter by myself.
I throw half the pizza away, thoughts of Lauren and how her dinner was so totally different than mine crowding my mind.
Turning off all the lights downstairs, I walk upstairs straight for my bedroom, where the unmade bed greets me. The pillow she slept on still has her indent. I throw my shirt in the basket next to the bathroom door and head to the shower.
By the time I’ve showered and shaved, it’s almost eight-thirty. Grabbing my phone, I send her a text.
Hey
I sit in bed waiting for her to answer. Laying my head on the pillow next to hers, I hold it close to me. Her smell surrounds me, the memories of last night playing in my head.
After ten minutes of waiting, I text her again.
I miss you!
I’m giving her ten minutes, and then I’m just going to call her. I close my eyes waiting for her, resting my eyes, but I fall asleep. The next thing I know, my alarm is ringing for me to get up.
I look at my phone and see that Lauren texted me back.
Hey, sorry, I was giving Rachel a bath.
I miss you, too!
Okay, I guess you fell asleep. I’ll call you tomorrow from work. Eek! I’m working with Noah.
I blink my eyes a couple of times and then text her back.
Good morning. Fell asleep waiting for your text. Are you really going to work for Noah?
I toss my phone aside while I go into the bathroom and splash my face with water. Grabbing the phone again, I go downstairs, where I start my morning routine. It’s still as silent as it was last night, so I turn on the television. The voices of the CNN anchors fill the silence while the coffee brews.
The phone rings in my hand, and I look down to see Lauren’s number.
“Hey,” I answer, smiling.
“Hey. I thought it would be faster if I called you,” she says, and I hear her moving around in the background.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask her, thinking about how much I would have loved to wake her up with my face between her legs.
“Yeah, I was exhausted.” I hear her call out a five-minutes warning to the kids. “Sorry, it’s hectic in the morning.”
“I can imagine. Are you really going to work with Noah?”
“Um, well, seeing as I’m due there in an hour, the answer to that would be yes.” She chuckles.
“You don’t need to do this,” I tell her while I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip. I can hear Gabe in the background asking where his lunch is.
“I’m doing this, so we don’t kill each other.” She moves the phone from her mouth to tell Gabe she already packed his lunch in his bag. “Sorry. I have to go. Rachel is not dressed yet. The bus is due in seven minutes, and Kaleigh didn’t come home again.”
I smile thinking of Rachel running around naked, calling me Asshat. “Okay, call me later.”
She doesn’t say good-bye, I just hear her yelling as the phone disconnects. The rest of the morning routine is uneventful.
Walking into the office, I groan thinking about training a new temp. God, I hope it’s not Carmen.
I see a man sitting at Lauren’s desk. “Good Morning, Mr. Mackenzie.” He gets up to greet me.
His hair is perfect, his suit is perfect, and he follows me into my office with a small pad and pen in hand. “I’ve taken the liberty of going through all the emails to familiarize myself with the routine you have. I also see you like your meetings alphabetically arranged, which is perfect, since it’s also how I like to file things,” he continues as I shrug off my jacket and put it on the back of my chair.