Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
I focus on the sound of my bathroom lock clicking, trying to ground myself. It’s not like I think he would follow me upstairs. But I feel safer this way. Less exposed.
It’s hardly the time to think about not exposing yourself, my guilty conscience says, and the bitch is right.
There’s no way to be more exposed than I was a few minutes ago, tied to the workstation of my younger contractor.
I get inside the shower stall, turning the water to scalding hot. Just how I like it. I need to wash my conscience away. Or better yet, drown it.
It helps, of course, because a hot shower is the closest things us humans have to magic, but it doesn’t do much to erase the thoughts swirling my head.
The piping hot water burns my skin, but it’s not enough to burn the memory of what happened.
And I’m not sure if I’d want that memory gone.
I had sex for the first time after divorcing David.
I had sex with someone that isn’t David for the first time after twelve years.
The thought is here, in my brain, but it’s somewhat blurry, unreachable.
Like it’s supposed to be here, but I don’t feel it.
It’s supposed to be this big moment for me, but I’m too busy freaking out to feel it. My brain is overloaded with the fact that I am Logan’s employer, and I abused him in his place of work, during his work hours, which makes me completely despicable.
He didn’t seem like he minded it, another voice interjects, this one hoping to save the remains of my sanity.
Doesn’t matter, it wasn’t the right thing to do, my guilty conscience responds.
Not to pick sides, but he kind of started it.
Of course he did. You were as good as naked, in soaking wet, paper-thin cotton.
I groan out loud, the sound luckily drowned out by the shower. When I’m finally done, I get dressed as if it’s winter and sneak my way to Asher’s bedroom window.
His car is no longer here.
Thank God.
A pang of disappointment blooms in my chest, but I stuff it down with the rest of my illogical emotions.
“You did what?” Sandy’s eyes are wide open as she stares at me, amusement sparkling in them.
The two of us are lying on a beach, perched on our elbows, while Asher and Olivia play in the sand.
Well, Asher is playing in the sand. Olivia is probably drawing a sand monster.
It’s still too cold to swim, but it’s a perfect day for the beach.
Liam and Stella went for a stroll because it’s time for her nap, and I shared the story of yesterday with my sister.
“I gave him clothes for a shower and disappeared.”
She giggles, dropping her head back and I barely resist hitting her in the stomach. Sibling things, I guess.
“You can’t be serious,” she says when she finally finishes laughing at me. “Why would you do that?”
“Umm, because it was awkward. I know, I should have sat him down and thoroughly apologized, but in that moment, this was the best I could think of.”
Once again, she giggles. “No, you definitely shouldn’t have apologized. I was thinking more on the lines of grabbing him by the belt loops and dragging him into the shower.” She raises her brows. “With you.”
I groan. “This isn’t funny, Sandy. I don’t even know if he’ll be back on Monday. And what does it mean for my deck? You know that deck is the key to my mental health after the divorce.”
She sighs, exasperated. “I think you’re placing too much importance on the deck.”
“I don’t think I am. My mind is hanging by a thread, and that thread is held only by the prospect of having it finished and my house perfect.”
“Sadie…” Another sigh. “You know it’s not about the deck.”
“I just want it done. I want to feel like I can do this on my own.”
“You can, Sades. You have been doing it all on your own. For much longer than these few months, whether or not you want to admit it.” She drops to her side, shooting me a comforting look.
“I know. But this … this will feel like a victory.”
“I know, but let me ask you this. Did you enjoy it?”
“Fuck, yes, I did,” I say on a half whisper.
She chuckles. “Well, that’s the only thing that matters. From what you told me, it was pretty damn hot…”
“So hot,” I add.
“And you’re both consenting adults…”
“Barely,” I mutter.
“Isn’t he like thirty?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Ooh, I take everything back. You should be in jail for grooming. Ouch.” She adds when I punch her shoulder.
“I guess you’re right.”
“Oh, Sadie-Sades. After thirty-two years, you still haven’t learned I’m always right. ”
This time, I’m the one to chuckle.
I guess what happened isn’t the end of the world. And it was hot. The hottest experience of my life, by far. Lived or written. And I’ve written some dirty things.
I just need to apologize to him on Monday, if he even shows up, and pray that he’s still willing to finish my deck.