“Damaging company property?” I turn to see Jeff standing there. Cindy is a few feet behind him but he doesn’t see her. She’s mouthing for me to fire him. She’s still pushing for me to buy this place.
“Sorry,” I lie. I’m not really sorry. It’s a locker and it’s more than fine. But this is Jeff and he enjoys giving me a hard time for some reason.
“Was that your husband that was here today?” he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everyone had been talking about it this afternoon when I’d gotten back. I nod my head. I wear a simple wedding band on my finger so maybe he hadn’t noticed but I doubt it. The giant one Heath had given me sits at home in the box next to my night stand.
It’s a beautiful ring. It’s an antique but Heath never told me if there was a history behind it. I never asked but it was clearly a ring of love. Not some cookie cutter one that you went down and bought at a fancy jewelry store. Even though we all know that he has the money to buy whatever he wants, he had for some reason chosen the antique one. I’m not complaining. Like I said before, it’s beautiful.
It felt disrespectful to wear it when it stood for nothing. Every now and then when I feel sad about never knowing what it will feel like to be loved by a man, I slip it on my finger and let myself dream for a while before I put it back into the box. Along with all of my hopes of love and a happily ever after.
“Why do you work here if you’re married to Heath?”
“Because I want to?”
He looks at me like I have two heads before turning to leave. Good, I’d rather him look at me like that than try to flirt with me.
“He’s so weird,” Cindy says when Jeff is out of earshot.
“I never know if he’s going to flirt with me or be a dick.” I roll my eyes. Why do men think women are confusing? They are the confusing ones. They say one thing but mean another. Ignore you but then expect you to show up to dinner with them every night at a precise time.
“Soo.” Cindy drags out the one word. “Do we hate the husband’s friend Blank?”
“I don’t know him that well but he’s always nice to me.”
“Then you’ll get me his number.”
“You want his number?” I ask to make sure I heard her right.
“I was sure he was going to ask for mine but he didn’t.”
“You were rude to him,” I remind her. She told me every detail of my husband’s lunch today because that’s what good friends do.
“Yeah, he was into it.” Okay. Women can be confusing too.
“I don’t have his number but I’m sure I can get it.” I pull my phone out, texting Heath. I barely get the text sent and my phone is ringing.
“Why do you need his number?” There is no missing the jealousy in Heath’s tone. My whole body lights up. Why does that turn me on? Because he doesn’t want to share you. He wants you for himself. Might that be why he’s always tracking me? He never answered if he trusted me or not. He’d gotten into his car and left.
I should hate that, but the kiss from yesterday lingers. So does everything else. Heath has been acting so differently these past few days. It’s gone from me thinking he doesn’t notice me to thinking he actually notices every breath I take. I’m confused about what that means. I’m starting to think that maybe he is too.
“My friend Cindy wants it. Calm down.” I fake annoyance. I can’t let him know my resolve is slipping. But little by little it is. I’m not ready to admit how much to anyone yet—not even myself.
“I’ll text it to you.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s my pleasure to get you anything you ask for.” His tone drops, sounding a touch playful but I don’t miss the underlying desire in it.
I swallow because this feels like a normal conversation that a loving couple would have. Teasing each other. I lick my traitorous lips that long for another kiss. I’d been irritated that he’d just drove off this afternoon and not kissed me. I would have pretended to hate it but still. Yeah, women are confusing too.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight,” he tells me when I don’t respond to him.
“Going out?” We never go out for dinner. “I don’t want to get dressed up,” I huff into the phone. Is he going to drag me to some fancy place on a business meeting or something?
“I don’t care what you wear. Tell me you’re coming straight home.”
“I’m coming.” I give.
“Soon.” Again he teases me, making me blush. Thankfully he can’t see me.