Page 64 of Playing With Fire
Once Greg heads back out the door, I feed Serafina before enjoying my dinner…and my wine…as I scroll through brain scans, refamiliarizing myself with the nuances of identifying and interpreting the images in front of me. It’s a deep dive into gray matter, and it feels symbolic as some shades are darker and others lighter, but there is nothing here clearly defined with black and white.
Just like my life.
After dinner, Serafina and I move to the couch where she curls into my chest and I breathe deeply, contentment filling my soul as my daughter sleeps soundly on me.
I’m debating whether or not to text Hudson since I told him we should wait until Friday, when I realize the wine loosened my inhibitionsjust enoughthat I decide it’s worth the risk. But instead of texting, I call him, wanting to hear his voice.
“Hello?” he says slowly into the phone, like he’s not sure it’s really me.
“Hi,” I breathe, my smile evident in my voice.
“Are you sure calling is a good idea?” he asks, sobering me up a little.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a bad idea, actually, but Greg came home and went right back out, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to say hello.” And then because I’m a glutton for punishment, I add, “I miss you.”
“Christ, Shannon,” he breathes into the phone. “I fucking miss you too.” And then he asks the one thing that makes all the difference in the world. The one thing that reminds me this is worth the risk…thatheis worth the risk. “How was your first day back in the office?”
Tears spill down my cheeks. Gregor didn’t even ask. I’m not sure why I expected him to, but when he didn’t acknowledge my big day, the final piece of the heart he once held shattered.
But like a phoenix rising from the ashes, my heart was reborn from the broken, jagged pieces, whole and coated in steel, and this time, I’ll keep a hold of it myself. Even as things progress with Hudson, I’ve learned that it’s not his job to make me happy. It’s not his responsibility to make me whole. I have the power to do that on my own, and never again will I allow anyone to take that power from me.
From now on, I will share myself without giving myself away and I will maintain custody of my own happiness.
“It was so good,” I answer Hudson. “It’s exactly what I needed. Tomorrow I’m working from home getting the telehealth portion of my practice setup. I think I’ll really enjoy the split schedule. Thank you for asking.”
“I’ve thought about you all day. You don’t know how badly I wanted to text you and see how things were going,” he says, pouring joy into me.
“I appreciate that so much, Hud.” I’m not sure I’ve ever used his nickname, but this moment feels appropriately intimate and it just flies out. “How wasyourday?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“Long,” he answers honestly. “I know this probably sounds a little stalkerish, but I checked my schedule tomorrow. I have something for a couple of your neighbors. Any chance I can swing by to say hello? I can return the box you left in my truck…by mistake,” he adds in a smug tone.
It’s dangerous, stupid, risky, and altogether a bad idea and still, I hear myself say, “Yes.”
Gregor finally came to bed around midnight. I pretended to be asleep to save us both the hassle of an argument. The truth is, I really don’t care where he was or what he was doing.
This morning, he gave Serafina and I obligatory kisses before leaving, but has continued his pout and still didn’t ask about my first day at work. Honestly, it’s fine. It’s more ammunition for me. Maybe he’s also realized this marriage is over and has decided it’s not worth arguing any more.
Should that make me sad? Because it doesn’t.
Right around lunchtime, I hear Hudson’s truck rumble down our quiet street past my house. I can’t quite describe my displeasure over thinking about my neighbors ogling him, or worse, thinking he’s not worth ogling because he doesn’t make seven figures a year.
I’m lost to my thoughts when I hear his light rap on the glass of the front door a few minutes later, and I swear it makesme wet. Like Pavlov’s dog, that knock has my pussy trained to welcome him.
He knocks again and I hurry to greet him.
“Sorry,” I apologize quickly, my eyes scanning his face and body, trying to stay calm over the fact that he’s here. Oh, how I want to jump in his arms. It’s November and chilly out now, but he still has on brown shorts and a matching short-sleeved uniform top with the company logo over the pocket.
If my cheeks are half as flushed as they feel, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes darken as he takes in my dress and the corner of his mouth tilts into a smile.
“Is he home?” he whispers.
“No.”
“Do you expect him tocome home?”he clarifies.
“Not for lunch. Greg’s calendar is still synced with mine and there’s a twelve-thirty meeting at a Japanese steakhouse on it.”
“Good.”
