Page 20 of If Not for My Baby
Clementine:Are you complaining?
Clementine:I’m all alone in a hotel room, in case that changes your answer.
While I wait for his response, I brush my fingers across my breasts casually, feeling that pleasurable twinge between my legs. I imagine Mike’s hands on me, roaming up my sides…his hoarse groan of pleasure as his long, guitar-calloused fingers pinch my nipple just this shy of hurt. His low, masculine voice and that Irish lilt, coaxing a moan from my lips. Telling me in near-agony how good I’m being, letting him play me like—
The buzz of my phone shocks my eyes open and my hand still. For a moment I catch my breath, heat on my cheeks from both arousal and shame. I hadn’t meant to think about—
It doesn’t matter. Yet another sign of serious exhaustion and way too much Halloran music. I should probably just goto sleep. I check Mike’s response, prepared to let him down easy.
Mike Stanwell:I’m gonna hate myself for this, but actually are you around to talk for a sec?
I tie my robe back around my waist and respond quickly.
Clementine:Of course. Is everything okay? Is it my mom?
Mike Stanwell:No, no. She’s doing great. It’s nothing major, but if you have a minute.
A relieved sigh escapes me and I give him a call.
“Hey,” Mike answers on the first ring.
“Hi,” I say, a little sheepish. The whole point of sexting is thelackof actual conversation. “What’s up?”
Mike sighs from the other side of the phone. It sounds defeated. Maybe a little regretful. My heartbeat picks up like I’ve done something wrong. Outside, in the sliver of window between the thick curtains, I can just make out dim streetlights. I slip out of bed and toe my feet into hotel slippers. “Mike?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he says. “Listen, Clementine, this is going to sound…” His voice drifts off as if he’s debating his next words.
“Sound…?”
“Dumb, maybe. But that text kind of sucked.”
Even alone in the dark expanse of the sterile hotel room,my eyes widen as if I could share my shock with someone else. “Oh. I thought—”
“I know. And I haven’t done anything to stop you thinking it, so I take full responsibility for that. But, I don’t know, ever since you left…” He sighs again. I pace as I listen—I’ve never heard him sigh this much. “I miss you a lot more than I expected to.”
My mouth is too dry. The water bottle by my bedside is empty, and there’s only one left in the mini fridge that I know Molly will need come tomorrow morning.
“I guess I got used to you always being around, you know? And then I tried calling you two days ago…”
I’m starting to feel anxious. I need water. Grabbing my room key and credit card, I slip out into the blindingly bright hallway, phone still pressed to my ear. I know there’s a vending machine around one of these corners.
“But you’re just so busy now…I’ve been the first one to text you four times in a row. And yes, I’m ashamed that I’m counting.”
The maze of hallways is endless and I’m beginning to regret not putting on a bra or taking the star-shaped pimple patches off my forehead. Thankfully I round another corner and spy the ice machine sign, and next to that—
Bingo. Vending machine.
“…and then that text tonight…I just have to know if you could ever see me again as something more than a friend that you fuck?”
I stop just shy of the soda array. “Whoa.”
“Sorry.” Another sigh. Some kind of record, I’m sure. “Probably could have phrased it better. What I’m trying to say is—I still have feelings for you. I’m sorry if that makes everything awkward.”
How had I missed the signs that Mike was hurting? And thatIwas contributing to that? “No, I’m sorry. I was totally selfish.”
“No, no, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
