Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ALLEY
THEN
MARCH
“Hi, you’ve reached Jensen Adams. You know what to do.”
“Dammit.” I end the call as it goes straight to voicemail. My eyes sweep across the apartment, landing on the door. Like if I stare hard enough, maybe he’ll walk through it.
He’s over an hour late. This is so not like him.
I text him for what feels like the hundredth time.
Babe, are you okay? Kind of starting to worry…
Panic flutters in my stomach, but I force myself to breathe, to not jump to conclusions. If something were wrong, someone would’ve called.
I glance down at what I’m wearing and let out a dry laugh. A brand new black lace push-up bra, matching panties, and a garter belt. I even bought the damn thigh-high’s. So much for a sexy surprise.
I made his favorite dinner: roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and picked up the freshest sourdough you can get from the bakery a few blocks over.
I wanted to do something special, something extra to show I was thinking of him.
I hoped he’d walk through the door after a long day to find his favorite meal, and his wife, waiting in practically nothing—ready to be devoured by him.
This is exactly the kind of thing Jensen would lose his mind over.
What man wouldn’t love coming home to that?
I even bought a dozen of those tiny tea light candles, the battery-operated ones that seem to only last a few hours. They’re scattered all over the apartment: mood lighting, candles, dinner, lingerie—sex. It’s romantic as hell in here. And I’m sitting in it alone, like some abandoned fantasy.
I sink deeper into the couch, crossing my legs, my bare thighs rubbing together.
I flip on an episode of Gossip Girl. Call me crazy, but I started the series for the third time two weeks ago.
There’s something nostalgic and comforting about it.
And now that I know how my husband grew up, it feels wildly familiar in a weird kind of way.
My phone vibrates, and I scramble to grab it, swiping as fast as I can.
Jensen
Hey babe, I’m so sorry. I got held up at work and my phone died.
That’s ok… Are you on your way?
Jensen
Yeah. I’m on my way.
Alright… ETA?
I take a deep breath. He’s on his way. Tonight’s still going to be great.
I picture him walking through the door, a cocky grin plastered on his face as he eyes me up and down.
He won’t even care about dinner when he sees me.
He’ll want me first. He’ll run his lips along my skin, teasing and tasting until I’m all but begging for him, making me forget all about the meal I made.
I press my thighs together as heat pulses through me.
Shit. I’m turned on just thinking about it. He better hurry.
It dawns on me just then that I can check his location. I pull up the Find My app and tap his name. My brows furrow. That’s weird. His phone’s offline. The last known location shows him at work. I stare at the screen. Offline? Why does that feel like a punch to the gut?
Maybe it died again. He might have only gotten a quick charge, just enough to send that text.
I pause the show and call him again, but it goes straight to voicemail. Yep, his phone’s dead.
I press play and position myself on the couch so I’m angled toward the door. I want to be the first thing he sees when he walks in. He’s been so stressed lately, so uptight. Work’s been extra busy, and he’s been having to stay later than usual. Nothing a little seduction can’t fix.
I finish another episode, and the credits start to roll. I glance at the time. What the hell? It’s been forty minutes since he said he was on his way. I stare at my phone, willing it to vibrate.
But it doesn’t.
With a sigh, I push up from the couch and head into the kitchen, glaring at the dinner I made for him.
I left everything on warm, but after two hours…
it’s just not the same. I make myself a plate and return to the couch, my pride wounded.
I flip on another episode. I need the distraction or I’ll go crazy waiting.
I feel stupid, sitting here like this—all this work, all this effort. He’s not even here.
Another episode ends, and my stomach twists. My worry’s no longer a four. It’s an eight. Jensen doesn’t just come home three hours late.
I try calling again, but it goes straight to voicemail. Again. My fingers drum against the couch cushion, the rhythm getting faster.
I text Matt.
Hey, have you heard from Jensen?
He responds within minutes.
Matt
No, sorry. I’m just barely getting home. Everything okay?
Yeah, was just wondering.
He sends a thumbs up, and I drop my phone beside me, my heart beating slightly faster.
It’s almost nine. Even when Jensen stays late, it’s never past eight, and he always keeps me posted. I bite my thumbnail, my leg bouncing with restless energy. Something’s not right.
I shuffle into the kitchen in my underwear and start cleaning up, needing something, anything, to keep my mind from spiraling through the what-ifs. I’m sure he’s fine, and worst-case, I can still surprise him. Even if dinner’s put away and I’m no longer in the mood.
All I wanted was to take some of the stress off his shoulders. Help him unwind. Make him feel loved.
My phone dings from across the room, and I rush to the couch to grab it.
Jensen
Babe, I’m so sorry. A coworker was having car trouble. I’ve been helping him. Be there soon.
I let out a sigh of relief. He’s okay. He’s helping someone. It sucks for me, but that’s also so… Jensen.
Ok. Love you.
I make a plate for him, then pack the rest of the food into containers and slide them into the fridge. I wash the pots and pans and wipe down the countertops, determined to keep my mind busy so my impatience doesn’t get the best of me.
By the time I’m finished, he’s still not home and my frustration is turning into anger. I know I shouldn’t be mad, but God.
Ten minutes later, I call him.
Nothing again.
Thirty minutes later, I blink back tears as I unclip my garter belt and bra, the lace I picked out for him now crumpling to the floor. I pull on one of Jensen’s oversized shirts I love to sleep in, and crawl into bed.
Forty minutes after that I roll to my side, eyes on the clock. It’s 10:30.
I blink once, then again. A single tear slips down my cheek, soaking into the pillowcase. And still, no Jensen.
I hear Jensen come in around eleven. He moves quietly through the apartment, slipping into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he’s sliding into bed beside me.
“Where were you?” I ask, my voice clipped.
“Ah, sorry, babe. Did I wake you?” His arm slides around my waist, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Where were you?” I ask again, a little sharper this time.
“I told you… I was helping a coworker with his car. He couldn’t get it started, so we waited for a tow, and then I drove him home. It took forever. By the time I got to my car and charged my phone, it was late. I didn’t want to wake you if you’d already fallen asleep.”
I don’t have a reason not to believe him, but something in my gut’s calling bullshit. And I don’t know why—Jensen doesn’t lie. Not to me. Not to anyone. I trust him with my life. But something’s off, and I can’t explain it. I have nothing to go on but a feeling.
Is he cheating on me?
No. He would never.
I roll over, my eyes meeting his, searching them. It’s dark, but the sincerity is there. It’s Jensen. He loves me. He wouldn’t lie.
I sigh, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Well, I guess he was lucky you were there to help.”
“Yeah. We were the only two left in the building.” His lips meet mine—warm, tender—and for a second, I almost forget that I waited for him in my underwear for three hours. “How was your night?” he asks, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Um…” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, the memory of tonight rushing in. “It was fine. Just watched some Gossip Girl. Ate dinner.” My fingers trace a path down his chest. “Pretty low-key.”
“Hmm. That sounds nice.” He kisses me again, then rolls onto his back. “I’m fucking exhausted, babe. Night.”
That’s it? Thats all I get from him?
His eyes close, and I watch his chest rise and fall with each steady breath.
It’s fine. He was helping a friend. It’s one of the things I love most about him. He’s always thinking of others. Always willing to help.
His phone died. He had to wait for a tow.
But then… Why does this hurt so much?