Chapter 8 Anna
Anna
He left.
I knew it was a one-night stand—we didn’t exchange numbers or last names. It’s not like I was expecting breakfast in bed and a foot massage, but after such mind-blowing sex? I didn’t think he’d just… vanish. Without so much as a goodbye.
After sleeping with the same person for eight years, I thought a no-strings hookup would be easy. Gemma used to treat them like weekend sport. I didn’t think it would be that hard to disconnect and walk away. But having him do that to me? The afterglow evaporates fast.
I don’t have any regrets but waking up to find the warm spot beside me now cold and empty again—after I’d finally felt a spark reignite—leaves me feeling somewhat cheap and used.
Suffice to say the endorphins have well and truly buggered off, along with my dignity.
Gemma texts, demanding that I meet her and April for brunch at the Daily Grind to catch them up on my night. I get dressed and force myself out of the house.
At the table, I slice into my pancakes and shove some in my mouth, chewing aggressively.
“What’s got you in such a mood? I thought you got porked,” Gemma says, waving her fork at me. She pops a bite of scrambled egg in her mouth.
“I did,” I say around a mouthful. “But he was gone before I woke up.”
“Maybe he had somewhere to be?” April suggests hopefully. “An emergency or—”
“At six in the morning?” I cut her off. “Come on, April. We both knew what this was.” I shrug. “It’s not like he owes me anything. I just feel… weird.”
“You know what’s weird?” Gemma says, shooting April a look. “April eating black pudding at ten in the morning on a Saturday.”
April’s fork freezes halfway to her mouth. “Hey, I like it.”
“I have to agree with Gemma on this one,” I say. “That stuff looks bloody revolting.”
She spears another piece defiantly. “It’s not my fault! It’s the baby—I have cravings.” Her hand moves protectively over her bump.
Gemma’s expression softens as she leans forward, placing her hand over mine. “I’m sorry he left without saying anything. That was shitty of him.”
“It’s fine,” I lie, cutting into more pancakes. “Get back on the horse and all that, right?”
I wasn’t expecting such a brutal comedown after random sex. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I feel so hollow. Which is ridiculous, because I don’t even know the man. But, God, did it feel like he knew me. The way he touched me. The way he kissed me. The way he—
“Was it at least good?” Gemma asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Heat creeps into my cheeks as memories of last night flash through my mind. His hands. His mouth. His filthy words. His enormous horse cock. It’s the biggest I’ve ever had. When I first laid eyes on it, I was worried it was going to go in one end, and out the other.
“It was amazing,” I say, my voice wistful.
And it was. If I’m being totally honest with myself, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. Ever. Including all my sex with Mason.
Mason had a solid six-inch sub, whereas Cooper has the whole footlong. But it wasn’t only his size. I can’t exactly pinpoint what it was about him, but everything just felt more.
“Here, here,” Gemma says, lifting her mug to clink against ours.
“How did you do this for so long?” I ask her.
“Do what?” she asks.
“One-night stands.”
“The art of detachment, my friend,” Gemma says, lifting a mug again in toast. “Well, that and the fact I didn’t have a decent lay until your brother came along and destroyed my vagina.”
I gag at her admission. “Jesus Christ. Don’t tell me that shit.”
“You’ll turn her off her breakfast,” April says, smacking Gemma’s arm before focusing on me. “If it helps, I’m really proud of you for going out last night and meeting someone new. I know it wasn’t an easy feat.”
“I am too,” Gemma chimes in. “This is the beginning of the new Anna.”
“Like breaking the seal,” April says.
“Or cutting the cheese,” Gemma adds.
“That metaphor doesn’t quite work in this scenario, Gem,” April says.
“To-may-to, to-mah-to,” Gemma replies.
“Would you have given him your number if he’d asked?” April probes me, and I’m caught off guard. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Would I have?
The question sits heavy in my chest. Am I upset that I had incredible sex and he left without saying goodbye?
Or am I upset because, deep down, I actually wanted to see Cooper again?
Because I was blindsided by how good the connection with him felt—by how alive he made me feel in what seems like forever.
Last night, Cooper stirred a desire within me I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
I hadn’t realized how empty I’ve felt without that rush of lust, that ache of being consumed by want.
My sex life with Mason had become pretty lackluster.
And having been in a relationship for eight years, I’d come to believe that it was normal.
That all couples experience dry spells. But after having Cooper last night?
I can’t imagine sex with him would be capable of feeling perfunctory.
Maybe that’s what’s throwing me. I’ve been so focused on grieving my marriage, on being broken and shut off, that I never expected to feel hopeful. Like maybe I’m finally ready to crawl out of the cave I’ve been hiding in.
“Yeah,” I say, the admission surprising even me. “I think I would have.”
April’s lips tip up in a sweet smile and I mirror her, because I don’t think that’s something to feel ashamed of after all.