As if someone upstairs knew I needed the support, Devin sent me a text as I was ruminating.
Devin: Super bored and the guy is out with his friends. Want some company?
Sadie: Yes . . . but don’t bring wine. I had my fill today.
Devin: Speak for yourself! More for me.
Sadie: LOL. Okay. See you soon.
She knocked in her usual upbeat rhythm. When I opened, Devin looked at my face, then down at my neck. “What the hell got into you? Or should I say . . . who?”
“What are you talking about?”
Admittedly, I wasn’t necessarily going to tell her about Sebastian. I hadn’t fully decided whether that was a good idea, regardless of how much I wanted to talk it out. So I wondered how she could be so sure that something had happened.
I tried to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You have bruises down your neck and chest.”
I ran to the mirror in the hallway. Shit. Sebastian had given me multiple hickies.
“Spill. What happened?”
She figured it out before I had a chance to confess.
“Oh my God. Oh. My. God.” She shook her head. “It was Sebastian Maxwell, wasn’t it?”
When I continued to not say anything, that was all but an admission.
“Holy shit.” She put the wine on the counter and proceeded to open it. “I’m grabbing a glass for this, and then you’re gonna tell me everything.”
After, we sat down in the living room, and I told Devin everything that had happened today while sparing some of the most intimate details (as much as she would have wanted and appreciated them). So I told her that we slept together but kept the specifics to myself.
“Holy shit. I can’t believe it. Why don’t you seem stoked? This is, like, the best thing ever to happen to us.”
Us?
I frowned. “It really was. The best thing ever. No one’s ever made me feel the way he did.”
Drawing her own conclusion from my expression, she added, “But . . .”
“But something I couldn’t quite figure out changed before he left. I think maybe what happened really hit him.”
“What do you mean . . . like the fact he fucked you?”
“It’s not the first time he’s had sex since his wife died. But I get the impression it was the first time it was with someone he might have feelings for. I think maybe either he started to feel guilty or maybe he regretted it. I can’t be sure.”
She sighed. “Of course it can’t be simple, right?”
“No. And in this case, I wouldn’t expect it to be. To be honest, I’m still a little shocked that it actually happened. So I can imagine how he feels, all the emotions he might be going through once the reality of what we did sets in. I just hope he’s okay.”
She swirled her wine around in the glass and shook her head. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Most women would feel neglected in your shoes. But you’re actually thinking about his feelings? You really care about him, don’t you?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. Yes, I really do, and it’s scaring me because I stand a very real chance of getting hurt because of that.”The way our texts read, anyone picking up my phone might’ve thought this man was my brother. I sighed and scrolled back to reread our messages from the last couple of days.
Late Sunday night, after Devin had left, there had been:
Sebastian: Hey. Sorry I had to run this afternoon. I had a really nice time.
Nice?
That wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe earth-shattering sex. Phenomenal? Amazing? Incredible? “Nice” . . . was more like something your great-aunt said to you. Thanks for stopping by the nursing home today, Sadie. It was so nice to see you.
Yet . . . I’d followed his lead and typed back.
Sadie: No worries! I had a nice time, too.
Then on Monday evening, I just couldn’t stop wondering what was going on in Sebastian’s head. So I decided it was my turn to initiate contact this time. I figured I’d be funny. So I typed:
Sadie: Hey. How was your lay?
The dots had moved around a bit, then stopped, and then started again. Eventually, he’d typed back.
Sebastian: Busy. How about yours?
I’d been disappointed he didn’t take the bait with my intentional typo, yet I replied back:
Sadie: Good!
Tuesday and Wednesday, we had no interaction, then last night I got my hopes up when my phone buzzed with an incoming text:
Sebastian: Are you busy Saturday evening?
I’d been thinking . . . dinner . . . a movie . . . sex maybe?
Sadie: I’m free after seven!
But my heart sank reading his response.
Sebastian: Think we can do training at 7:30 or 8:00? Birdie has been bugging me. Apparently she taught Duke a new trick, and she can’t wait to show you. She won’t even show it to me first.