Page 19 of Indescribable

ChapterFive

Naomi

Scrambling, I try to make myself presentable before Brock arrives. I tug off my pajamas and change into a pair of light blue leggings and a white blousy shirt that falls off one shoulder, and spray some dry shampoo in my hair. I finger-comb through my curls with a bit of Moroccan Oil on the ends to tame the curls.

Then I wash my face, brush my teeth, apply some deodorant, spritz on some body spray, and apply a few swipes of mascara and lip gloss.

Good enough.

Just because my body hasn’t forgotten the way Brock made me feel last night doesn’t mean I’m ready for anything to happen between us. Not that I even know if he would want that as well.

However, I wrote eight thousand words today and it’s not lost on me that after last night, I wasinspired. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about it.

I clean up a few things in the kitchen and living room, not because Brock is stopping over but because it needs done, when the doorbell rings followed by knocking which is then followed by Brock shouting, “Giving you warning that I’m here in case you need to put on some clothes!”

“Smartass,” I say to myself, laughing. “I’m decent, come on in!”

The door opens and Brock says, “Not sure if I’m relieved or bummed.”

“You know, a nice guy, a gentleman, would be kind enough to forget that ever happened and not keep reminding me that you saw me naked.”

His eyebrows do a little dance. “Guess I’m neither then, huh?”

He’s actually both, but I won’t admit that. “Definitely neither. My neighbors are probably wondering why a guy is shouting through my door about me putting on clothes.”

“Gives Red Oak something more to talk about.”

“Like they need more.”

“Today Harriet called Mom to let her know that Wyatt and I got into a fist fight at Lola’s bakery.”

My eyes widen and I gasp. “You did?”

He scoffs. “No, of course not. But that’s how the tale went. I was walking out when he was walking in and we had words. No punches were thrown, don’t worry.”

“Words?”

Brock shrugs and starts opening Styrofoam containers. “Words, yes. He’s under the impression that I caused your divorce and am on a mission to destroy every other happy marriage in the town.”

I throw my hands up in the air and march to the fridge, yank the door open, and grab two bottles of beer. “That’s such bullshit and he knows it. First of all, why every other marriage?”

“Because I was talking to Lola and mentioned getting together this weekend.”

“The very pregnant and married Lola who has a husband you’re good friends with who I’m sure is going to be there also?”

He does a little clicking noise and a finger point. “That’d be the one.”

“Okay, second of all, he damn well knows the reason we got a divorce and he’s the only one at fault.”

His body locks up and he stares at me and I know he’s going to have all sorts of questions that I’m not ready to answer. Even though I know I have no reason to be, it’s still embarrassing that I was cheated on.

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Moving on, okay? The reason for our divorce is no longer important because it’s done. He’s going to complain for a bit but he’ll get over it.”

His voice is barely a whisper and his eyes are glacial when he says, “Did he do something to you that I need to know about?”

Letting out a breath, I tell him the truth. “He made some bad choices that meant I couldn’t stay married to him but no, he never physically or verbally hurt me.”

He closes his eyes, in relief, I’m sure, and nods his head a few times. When he looks at me again, I see resolve in his eyes. “You know if and when you want to tell me, I’m here.”

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