Page 45 of Wall

“You’d wriggle that ass, buck those hips, grab the base of my cock and try to jam me in your pussy. So damn hungry for me. You were always in your head—still are, seems to be—but not when we were fucking. You just wanted what I had to give you.” He’s grinning, and his eyes are kind of dreamy and far away.

“And then you’d cum. Squeeze my cock like a vise. And then you’d immediately go limp and then curl up like a shrimp. Go totally dopey. Babble nonsense at me like you was makin’ sense.” His grin widens. “It’s kind of a heady feelin’, fucking a woman speechless.”

I click my cheek. “I made perfect sense. You weren’t hearing right. Because of my—” I can’t sayanyof those words he uses. “My—”

“Hungry pussy?”

“Lustiness!”

He cracks up. “You a wench at the Renaissance festival?” John’s brother Jesse jousts, so we’ve been more than once watching him compete. Perform? Ride his horse in dress up. It’s not quite our scene, but we always have fun.

Huh. When did I get to “have fun” instead of “had fun?”

“What’s goin’ on in that brain of yours now?”

“You never used to ask me what I’m thinking all the time.”

“That was a mistake. I don’t intend to repeat it.”

Thankfully, our meals arrive, and I get a few seconds to chew on that and all the rest. I’m flushed head to toe, and I’m swollen and achy between the legs. Good thing I wore relatively thick jeans. My brain’s a jumble.

Sex was different after we lost Peanut. Trying to get pregnant that first time was nothing but fun. Like John would be sitting on the sofa, watching football, and he’d unzip his pants and say, “Come make a baby with me.” I’d laugh, scamper over, and I’d ride him while he nibbled my neck and kept his eyes on the score. We’d do it again that night. And the next morning.

After Peanut, I downloaded an app that tracked my cycle. I bought a fancy basal thermometer, and after sex, instead of going stupid, I’d roll to my back and tuck up my knees. And after Jellybean…I don’t really remember the sex that well.

“There. That frown. What’s that?” John’s mumbling around a mouthful of steak.

I shake myself and grab my silverware.

“Well?”

I don’t want to ruin things by bringing up the babies. But I don’t want to lie. I start cutting my filet. Even though I’m not hungry, it smells delicious, and the knife slides through like butter.

“You can tell me you don’t want to say. But don’t block me out.” John locks his eyes on mine, fork in one hand, beer in the other.

“I don’t want to bring us down.”

“You can’t bring me down. I’m eatin’ steak with my woman, and I’m gonna get lucky later. And if I ain’t mistaken, there’s a chocolate cake with my name on it that I didn’t get a chance at last night.”

“You think you’re getting lucky later?”

“I’m lucky now.”

“I was thinking about how things changed after Peanut.” Wow. It’s the first time I’ve said the nickname in four years.

John carefully sets his fork down. For a minute, I think he’s going to reach for my hand, but he doesn’t. He leans back slightly in his chair, and he waits. Listening.

“Sex wasn’t much fun after.” John winces. Uncomfortable heat floods my face. “I’m not putting that on you. You didn’t change. I—”

I don’t know how to put it into words. I felt an urgency the second time we tried that wasn’t there before. Like I was a general, and I had to marshal all my troops and equipment ‘cause this time, things wereserious.

“I panicked. And I don’t think I ever stopped panicking.” Not until John was gone. And it still flares up. Ghost panic.

I’m staring at the napkin in my lap. I can’t look at the man across the table—who’s John, but who’s not John anymore now that he’s chiseled and super-fit and ogled by everyone in the place. Not when I’m unsteady from remembering.

I take a bite of steak and chew.

Silence stretches between us.

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