“Not nearly good enough.” I scoop her up, she laughs as her arms go around me.
“I’m going to need more assurance. I told Karen, that because I saved us from losing a client, I get tomorrow off.”
“All day morning sex in bed sounds good to me. Then we could come out, eat to get our tummies full, nap, and start all over again.”
“I love the way you think.”
****
Maybe it’s the way the partners reacted to her. I’m an asshole enough to admit their envious words of finding her beautiful helps me make my decision. A few days after the party, I call her early and ask her to get ready so I can take her out to dinner. She sounds surprised, yet tells me she’ll be ready on time.
I’m happy to see Holly in a little black shift that clings slightly more than the red dress. There is relief that aside from straightening her hair she keeps her makeup to a minimum, only lipstick and mascara. I stay in the car, allowing Ricky to open the door for her. When she gets in the car, I keep my eyes on her legs, loving the way the dress slides up. “You are looking beautiful. I really want to kiss you, except I know I’ll definitely mess up your lipstick.”
Dinner at Giorgio’s shows me what I’ve been missing. At home, talking revolved mainly about sex and how much we enjoyed the sex we were having. We had covered the basics of favorite books, spots in the city, and music. Now, to listen to Holly’s thoughts, ideas, and hearing her make smart remarks while she actually eats her food is the most enjoyable evening out I’ve had since the last time we went out.
We talk easily about nearly everything, often it’s more me wanting to know everything about her, still. It never seems like we run out of things to talk about. She’s also sincerely curious about my cases, more than a few times recalling things I’ve said in the past with interest of how things turn out.
I enjoy taking her out several times over the next week, until one day I call her to ask her where she wants to go out and she says she isn’t feeling well and wants to stay home. It’s unlike her to complain about anything. I tell her not to cook, I’ll bring home what she wants. At home, she waves off my concern, saying her stomach just wasn’t settled.
After dinner, we cuddle on the couch as we watch a movie. I ignore the mocking voice that wonders when I became someone who cuddles. Fuck it, I don’t care about the mocking voice. Holly in my arms is the only thing that matters.
Chapter Twenty Five
Ethan is so sweet. His concern over me saying I didn’t feel well enough to go out isn’t what I expected. I’m not sure exactly why I don’t feel well, but I haven’t since waking up. When we’re on the sofa I feel discomfort in my lower abdomen, damn it. It was that time of the month. “Be right back, bathroom.”
Once I’m in the bathroom, I’m surprised there’s only spotting. The panties are hardly ruined. I put on a pair of silky panties that would hold the panty liner in place. Almost out of curiosity, I go ahead and put in a tampon to figure out how heavy my flow will be. Out of habit, I take a couple of over-the-counter pain reliever pills.
“You okay?” He sees me wince when he puts his arm around my waist.
“That time of month already. A little more pain than I’m used to at the beginning. I took ibuprofen though, so I should be good in a little bit.”
“Are you sure? You want a heating pad or something?” My surprise is clear. “Amelia, she also left some of that stuff for period pain and side effects. If you want some.”
“Maybe, if I hadn’t already taken the other stuff already. No heating pad yet. What have I missed?”
After the movie is over, I’m heading into my room to go to bed.
“Where are you going?”
“Umm... bed. I thought since I’m not up to anything, you would prefer me to sleep in my room.”
“Well, you thought wrong. Although you will need to wear a nightgown or shirt, sleeping next to you naked would make me a masochist, and I’m not. Go get ready for bed and take care of whatever you need then you’re sleeping with me.”
I’m shocked, happily so. I follow orders and wear one of my dad’s Marines shirt. I change the pad and panties, then the tampon which has barely anything on it. I’ve been faked out one too many times, so I put in another tampon to be safe through the night.
The next morning Ethan wakes me with a kiss. “How are you feeling?”
Like fucking hell. “I’ll be fine.” I’m not sure if I’m saying it to reassure him or myself. In the past I’ve had cramps, but nothing like this that wrap around from my lower abdomen to my back. It also feels like someone is taking a pair of pliers to my nipples to torture me.
I take a very hot shower, it helps, barely. When I change my tampon, once again there’s barely anything there. Before, my flow used to be crazy heavy for the first two days, then taper off over a week. There was the usual painful cramps, done away with an over-the-counter, but no breast pain or lower back pain like now. All I want is to lie in a fetal position until the pain goes away. Only, it’s not an option, so I get dressed in looser clothes, old sweats and older tee shirts.
Through his snack then breakfast, I know Ethan can tell I’m in pain. When he leaves, he hugs me, “Take it easy today. I hate the idea of you working in pain.”
“Okay.” I say, knowing I won’t.
But my body doesn’t give me much choice. I clean his room and bathroom and manage to vacuum. Then I’m in a ball of misery on my bed. The phone rings a little after one, it’s Ethan. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be better soon. I think I’ll pull out the heating pad. Where is it?”