Page 2 of Waiting for Tuesday

Me:Don’t call the cops!

Me:I’m fine.

I stared at the screen while I waited for her response.

Becky:WTF? Why are you in the closet?

Me:I’m hiding in here.

Becky:Why?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head.No freaking clue.

Mr. Hottiedisappeared from view and I knew I had to go out there.

Me:I have to go. I’ll call you back.

I put the phone on the floor, smoothed my hair back from my face, and pushed myself up from the floor.

Quick like a Band-Aid.Just step out there, pretendyou’ve been here the whole time. Easy as pie.

But when I came out of the closet, he was gone. I took a few calming breaths and peeked around the corner to the bathroom—he wasn’t there either. My shoulders relaxed and I let out a deep sigh.

“Okay, deep breaths.” I looked into the hall leading to the living room. “Pretend you were using the bathroom. Say, Hi,Mr. Hott?” Shit! What was hisfuckingname?

I clenched my jaw, balled my hands at my sides, and headed to the living room. He wasn’t there either. He also wasn’t in the kitchen, dining room, or guest bath either.

Oh. My. God.

I ran to the window and pulled down the blinds. There he was. Myshoelessone night stand,practically running down the pathway to the front gate. He still had no shirt on, his pants were unbuttoned, and Mrs. Sanders was there to see the whole thing. She stood frozen in shock, hose in hand, watering her gardenias as she did every morning, then slowly turned to face my window.

I flattened my back against the wall, knowing my reputation had been permanently tainted, and let my body sink to the floor. I pulled my glasses from my face and set them to the ground.He was doing the walk of shame in front of the little old lady who called me baby, who baked cookies for my birthday—and gossiped to every neighbor in a one-mile radius…

He was leaving without saying goodbye.

I shoved my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes. This was the first time I’d had sex in thirteen months, and I didn’t even remember his name. A slow rumble began in the pit of my stomach then grew, until a mixture of laughter and tears escaped my parted mouth. I gripped my aching skull and began rubbing slow circles at my temples with my thumbs.

His hasty departure was probably for the best. I didn’t have time for complications. Didn’t have time for sex, dating, or men who walked out of my apartment without shoes.

Then why did it hurt so damned much?

I planted my palms firmly on the ground and forced myself to stand. Simply Tuesday’swould open in three months. Three months! A relationship was the last thing I needed. I chewed my bottom lip and paced the floor. Becky thought I was jaded, but it wasn’t true. I’d been building my Etsy business for three years, and my hard work was about to pay off. I didn’t need a man around distracting me—but walking out without saying goodbye?

“Grrrr…” Part of me wanted to chase after him, stand in the middle of the street, and demand an answer. I was a beautiful, intelligent woman. A good catch. Sure, my hair was a little wild, style a little hippie, but it only added to my character. Certainly nothing to be embarrassed about… Though, maybe he’d seen me crawl into the closet. My eyes widened as I walked to the bathroom. Yeah. He must have seen me. He must’ve thought I was a total nut job!

Something crinkled under my foot and I bent down to pick up a condom wrapper. “Thank fucking Christ!” Even though I’d been too drunk to think clearly, at least I was of sound enough mind to use protection. I flicked on the shower, yanked my top over my head, and stepped under the spray, determined not to let one stupid mistake ruin my day. A man whose name I still couldn't remember.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, toothbrush in my mouth, and hair still damp from my shower, pounding sounded at the front door.

“Tuesday, open up, it’s me!”

Becky.

I spit into the sink, rinsed my mouth under the faucet, and then pulled my tunic over my head.

“Hey,” I said, yanking open the front door.

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