Page 102 of Steamy Ever After

“Like I said, it’s complicated. But thanks for the advice.” I tip my glass her way. “And the drink.”

“You’re welcome.” She stands and squeezes my shoulder. “Take it from me. Sometimes it’s the complicated ones that are the most worth it.”

I watch her leave, and let her words sink in before settling my tab and heading home by foot.

Twenty minutes later, I’m walking into my dark, empty and far too quiet apartment. The racket of my keys dropping onto the table sounds a million times louder.

“Jane?” I call out, hopeful she’s home early from her date.

There’s no answer.

I check the time. It’s only nine. Of course, she’s still out with the delivery guy.

A blow of disappointment crashes into my chest and I hurry to distract myself. I change out of my work clothes, into some sweats, and turn on the TV to keep me company.

After making myself a bag of popcorn, I settle on the couch—her couch—and pretend like I’m not waiting for her to come home.

Pretend like I’m not taking deep breaths trying to find her scent lingering in the air or on the cushions.

Pretend like I’m not completely head over heels crazy for this girl.

CHAPTER 15

JANE

“Well, this was nice.” Simon walks me to the door, close enough that his hand brushes against mine.

“It was. I had fun.” I tuck some hair, worrying my lip.

We had a good time. Simon’s very kind and interesting. He paid for dinner and made me laugh a bunch.

Afterwards, we walked around town for an hour, talking about our jobs and hobbies. If I had to grade our date in the book of first dates, I would give it a solid B-plus.

But despite Simon’s charm, despite how polite and sweet he’s been all night, he wasn’t able to keep my attention for very long. And it’s not his fault. It’s because my thoughts constantly drift back to Joe. To his face, his dimples, the taste of his lips, his skin, all of it continually flooding my brain.

Simon leans in for a kiss, and I find myself wishing Joe was in his place. He’s an inch from my mouth and I can’t help but shift enough for his lips to land on my cheek.

Awkwardness forces its way between us and I try to hide it with a shy laugh, but Simon’s gaze moves from my eyes to my lips, then he steps back.

“We should do this again sometime,” he says, his voice wavering.

“We should,” I reply. “I’ll call you.”

He looks as if he wants to say something more, but ends up forcing a tight smile. “Have a good night, Jane.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He holds the door for me, and with a glance over my shoulder, I see him watching until I disappear up the stairs.

I should like Simon and see the potential of us together, or at the very least, another date, but something keeps blocking the possibility from growing.

It’s a little past ten o’clock, much earlier than I thought I’d be home. I’m exhausted, which is likely because of the tug-of-war in my brain and the guilt weighing on my shoulders since Joe and I fought this morning. All I’m craving is a long bubble bath and a glass of wine.

The apartment is dark except for the bluish hue of the TV reflecting on the wall.

I drop my keys onto the table next to his. “Joe?”

There’s no answer. I listen carefully, kicking off my shoes, but only hear the low hush of voices from the TV.

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