Page 46 of Santa Baby Maybe
He was just self-contained. Now I knew why. Because while he didn’t think he had “mommy issues,” he totally had mommy issues. It made me want to care for him. It made me want to hug him and let him rest his head in my lap while I stroked his hair.
It made me want to take him inside my body and give him all the comfort I could with my arms and legs and mouth. Sex for me had always been a little nerve-racking. I’d always had concerns about my breasts because of weird body issues, so getting naked with someone, trusting them on that level, was never really easy.
With W.B., though, I hadn’t had any time to think. No time to get in my head. There had only been enough time to feel and what I’d felt was greed.
A need for more and more. Which was now strangely coupled with this need to give and give.
“We should talk,” he announced. He was sitting on my couch, his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together.
It didn’t sound like the good kind ofwe should talk. In fact, it sounded very much like the bad kind ofwe should talk. I thought about all the food I’d made that was probably going to go to waste if this ended badly.
“Can I get a glass of wine first?” I asked him, holding up the bottle.
“Sure.”
“You?” I asked.
“Yeah, wine would be good.”
I made my way back to the kitchen and opened the bottle of already chilled Chardonnay. Jake was sitting on the counter, where he wasn’t supposed to be, giving me a look that let me know he was really the only man in my life I could count on. Then I reached out to pet him on his head and he snapped his jaw open in an attempt to bite me.
“No bitey Mommy. Especially when she’s about to get dumped.”
Because that’s what this felt like. Like we were about to have the conversation we probably should have had a few days ago and it was going be about how, like the kiss that same morning, it had been a mistake.
I could tick off the items in my head even as I poured us two glasses of wine.
We worked together and office romances never ended well. We were too different to possibly think we could end well. He was looking for someone else entirely. What had happened had just been a momentary lapse in judgment. On both sides.
Because that’s what I was going to say. It wasn’t even so much about pride as it was…protecting him. I shook my head. It was crazy to even think it, but it was true. W.B. liked me. He wanted me. Despite all his best intentions. I knew it. I felt it. He showed it by his actions if not his words.
Which meant walking away from me was going to hurt. And it would hurt him more if he thoughtIwas going to be hurt by it. I didn’t want him to feel that way about me. I didn’t want him to be angry with himself for potentially leading me on. Because if he did that, if he let guilt seep into his pores, it would hold him back from looking for real happiness.
Not the dimensions of a perfect partner, but a wife. Someone he could love.
Except that someone wasn’t going to be me. I took a deep breath, picked up our glasses, and headed into the living room. He hadn’t moved from his perch. Jake followed me, then paused when he spotted W.B.
Just for a second. Then he moved to where W.B. sat and bumped his head into his leg.
“Wow,” I whispered. “He really likes you.”
“Head butting me is a sign of affection?” he asked as Jake continued to bump along his legs. He did this until I walked over with the wine. Jake, having made his greeting, obviously felt free to go roam about.
“Yes,” I told him, as I handed him the glass. Then I sat on the couch next to him. He didn’t flinch, but after a moment he did pull away about an inch or two.
“So let’s just get this out of the way,” I began.
“I went out on a date last night,” he said over me.
The silence filled the room for a time. I knew we had to dismiss what happened against my front door. I knew we had to reset our relationship. I even knew that we had to find a way to put it behind us so we could work together.
And I was, very altruistically I’d thought, going to do the brave thing and give him an easy out. No fuss, no muss, no drama. I’d believed I could even get us to a place where we might be able to actually relax and have dinner. Two adults who had mutually decided to simply be coworkers and friends.
Except I kept forgetting that W.B. was one part asshole.
“We had door sex on Monday, then you went out on a date last night even though you knew you were coming here today?”
He nodded, his lips tight.
