Cyrus (The Henchmen MC 9)

But then he would show up for me on Sunday afternoons when Mom was at work, and he would take me out to get ice cream, and he would assure me he was fine.

By the time he rose up and took over, I was almost used to the constant worry.

Then Enzo joined in as well.

I don't remember much about that year. I couldn't tell you what songs were popular on the radio, what clothing trends were sweeping the country. I couldn't even tell you what classes I took, though I knew I passed them all.

I could tell you almost every last word of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I could quote entire pages of Jane Eyre. I could explain in painful details the careful universe and language created by Tolkien.

The next thing I knew, I was graduating and getting a job at the library that had always been my safe haven.

Then Paine was out.

And Enzo was leading.

I snapped out of my stroll down not-so-happy-memory-lane on a sigh, rolling my neck that was sore from hours looking downward at my book. "Don't look at me like that," I said as my neck cracked loudly and I caught the eyes of Knightley, my Black Moor fish who was the lone one in the giant tank, something that allowed him to balloon up to almost my fist size. When my family started pitching a fit about Kenzi moving out and not wanting me to live all alone - you know, in case I choked to death on my morning vitamin or something - I had bought him as a joke.

I missed Kenzi, but I didn't mind being alone. Sure, it was a lot quieter not to have her pacing the kitchen in her heels ranting and raving about some thing or another. And maybe what little fashion sense I did have slipped away without her there to tell me that my grandma sweater, leggings, and flats were 'cock kryptonite.'

But, all in all, I was always really self-sustaining. I didn't need small talk. I didn't need sounding boards. I didn't need, well, much of anything. Just my library card, my subscription book boxes that came to me each month (all four of them!), my Kindle Unlimited membership, and my Barnes & Noble rewards card. Oh, and my frequent buyer card to the local ice cream shop. All those things were likely to be blamed for my ever-widening behind, but they made me happy.

Fictional men might be great, Kenzi would say with a sigh, but they won't give you five orgasms and bring you coffee in the morning.

I had a vibrator that I bought on a website that promised discreet shipping. It did the job well enough.

I had to admit though, the coffee thing in the morning was a definite incentive. I had a nasty bruise on my hip from stumbling half-awake into my kitchen to get my fix that very morning.

If I were being completely honest though, I would admit that in that quiet time, that time right before sleep claimed you and there was nothing else around to catch your attention, it did creep in. The loneliness, the need for a real connection with a person. Especially a man. I had plenty of females around. My sister, for one. My brother's wife, Elsie. My half-brother's girl, Espen. My mom, aunts, grandmother. The ladies at the library. I was neck-deep in estrogen most of the time. I had my brothers too, sure, but I didn't see them as frequently as I used to.

And, let's face it, after a couple dozen romance novels, you wouldn't be human if you didn't start wanting a leading man all your own.

"Alright, fine," I said, shaking my head at my fish. "I will go out tomorrow night, okay? Does that make you happy?" I climbed up off the papasan chair, my own private little reading haven, with an old lady groan as my lazy limbs were forced to carry my weight for the first time in hours. "But I'm bringing my book," I added as I walked over to flip the top up on the tank and drop in some flakes. "And if it doesn't go well, I am getting ice cream. And don't try to tell me about how I swore off ice cream in favor of squats and lunges and cardio. Because we both know that that was a lie the second it came out of my mouth."

With that, realizing going out was likely a really good idea given that I had just had an entirely one-sided conversation with a goldfish, I went into the bathroom to take a long soak and peruse Goodreads for some new reading recommendations and update my bookclub page.

I stripped out of my clothes, taking a deep breath before forcing myself to face the mirror. I had been reading a bunch of self-love type articles and books lately, trying to stop focusing first on my so-called flaws when I looked at myself. I wouldn't say I was overly insecure. I could recognize that I had a really nice skin tone, well-proportioned facial features, unique eyes, wavy black hair that mostly behaved itself, a somewhat underwhelming bookrest (AKA - boobs), and a waist that wasn't too thin or too big either. It was from the waist down where I couldn't look at myself without a lip curl. Because of my aforementioned large rear-end, I also had wide hips to accommodate them.