Page 70 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Madeline

After a marathon night on Friday of sex and long conversations about some of the things we’ve done in life, Ethan leaves Nashville early Saturday. We exchange many texts over the weekend and he calls me both nights for more long conversations.

Monday morning rolls around and I wake at five a.m. to a string of texts from him.

Ethan: Miller, I’m gonna need a photo today.

Ethan: Scratch that. I need a video.

Ethan: Fuck it, we need to Facetime sometime today. {Preferably when you’ve got enough time to say filthy stuff to me and show me your tits.}

If this isn’t the second-best way to wake up, I don’t know what is. The first being waking up with Ethan’s arms wrapped around me.

Me: Proud of you, Black. You’re finally getting the hang of secret messages.

I snap a photo of myself before leaving my bed and send it to him. He told me last night how much he loves me without makeup. I’m taking that to mean he’s into natural beauty, which my first-thing-in-the-morning look is, so I figure he may enjoy this photo.

I’m still on my way to the bathroom when his reply text comes through. The giddy feeling I always get at the sound of his text notifications is a feeling I hope to keep experiencing every time I receive one of his texts.

Ethan: Fuck, you’re beautiful.

One simple text and my knees go weak and butterflies take over my stomach.

Me: What are you doing?

It’s six a.m. in New York, so I’m thinking he’s maybe in his gym.

Ethan: Staring at your photo.

Holy god, I don’t think I can go on with this living in separate cities thing.

Me: Is it leg day?

He switches to a call, which, of course he does because he really kinda hates texting, and I love this.

“Just an FYI,” I say with a grin he can’t see, “I don’t have time now to show you my tits and say filthy things to you.”

“I have no doubt.” His voice is deliciously gruff. “What time is Bossy McBossy due to arrive?”

I burst out laughing. “She will love that. She’ll be here in an hour.”

I hear his smile when he says, “You sound happy.”

“I am. I woke to grumbly texts from you telling me you miss me without telling me you miss me. And now you’re making up fun nicknames for my assistant. That’s everything a girl needs to be happy.”

“Grumbly is inaccurate.”

“It really isn’t.” I lean against the bathroom vanity. “Are you happy today?”

The phone goes silent, and while I don’t think we’ve lost our connection, the silence has me wondering. “Ethan? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking that I’ve never had a woman ask me that.”

“Well, this woman is.”

I hear another smile when he says, “I’m happy.” And then some more grumbling that I am so here for, “But I’ll be happier when you give me a time for when we can talk longer.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize there’d be talking on that call. I thought it was gonna be all about tits.”

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