Page 61 of Just Like Starting Over
At least I don’t think I am.
She leans closer. “And get ready to see him with other women. It’s going to happen.”
I know she’s right.
By the time I reach the hall, Mike’s gone. There’s just the sound of his footsteps in the restaurant below, then the start of his truck’s engine.
I can’t help feeling that I’ve made a huge mistake, even though I know it’s safer to be without Mike than to believe in happily-ever-after again.
17
MIKE
It’s funny how you can roll with things for a long time, then just suddenly, you’re done.
That’s where I am.
I don’t sleep. There’s no gerbil on the wheel, just a profound sense of having screwed up. I should never have made love to Sylvia, not when she just wanted some quick satisfaction. I have no idea how I could have resisted her, but I should have made sure we both felt the same way – instead of assuming as much – before surrendering to temptation.
She’s not the same as me. She doesn’t want the same things.
And I should have guessed as much, given that she and Luke had enough of a fling to result in Sierra.
Maybe Sylvia is more into impulsive sex than I realized.
Maybe I should rethink my own priorities because this was incredible.
Why did it have to be so amazing? It felt like kismet, like everything was aligned for us to be together, not just in bed but in every way. It was magical. Wonderful. Completely mind-blowing. I was overwhelmed, satisfied, then wanted moreand more. I know she was pleased. The sight of her coming, the feel of her around me as she came, was impossible to mistake for anything else.
I grip my temples and glare at the ceiling.
Sylvia.
Is it possible for your one-and-only not to love you back? That’s not how the songs and poems go, but Sylvia is making me wonder if I’m in love alone.
Oh, wait. Therearesongs about that.
We were impulsive together once, that first time, and we were impulsive again today. Maybe she brings that out in me, or makes me forget my own principles. There’s just something about Sylvia. When she wants me, I can’t think of anything other than giving her what she wants.
How could she suggest that we could just have sex and no relationship? How could she be satisfied with that kind of compromise? Making love is a billion times better when you’re crazy in love with your partner.
Maybe I’m the only one who knows that.
Maybe I’ve been stupid long enough.
Maybe Sylvia and I have no future.
By the time the sun comes up, I have a new plan. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more Mr. Pushover. I won’t be Mr. Booty Call, not even for Sylvia.
I’m first into the office and I sort out everything on my desk. What stays is anything to do with the plants. My expertise and education have brought me to being head grower at Cavendish Enterprises. It’s what I get paid to do. And all this other stuff, the financial planning, the strategic relationships, the personnel management and God knows what else, isnotmy job.
I’m feeling like junk, which is unusual. I seldom get sick, so it must be my lack of sleep combined with my frustration with Sylvia. I try to avoid being grumpy with those who don’tdeserve it. (Unfortunately, Dad isn’t making an appearance this morning.) I take everything that is not my responsibility and leave it stacked on Dad’s otherwise empty desk.
Dierdre comes in just as I drop the last stack there and her expression is puzzled.
“I’m head grower,” I inform her, as if she’s going to fight me on that. She just nods agreement. I wave to the stacks of folders. “That’ssomeone else’s job.”
She smiles. “No one to do it right now,” she notes.
