Chapter Nineteen
NINETEEN
Annie
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more pleased with myself than I do right now, strolling down the street with the incredible look on Cal’s face as I pleasured him hanging in my brain like a beloved work of art and the subtle taste of him still lingering on the back of my tongue.
When I first took him into my mouth, he lowered the phone from his ear, ensured it was still on mute, and let out a long string of curses as Harold continued his meandering stories without a clue.
Then there was a second or two there where his knees were shaking so much that I was genuinely worried he might collapse until he placed his palm atop the counter and found some support.
Mere minutes later, I was grinning as I finished righting my clothes and whispered to Cal that it was getting late and I’d see him tomorrow.
It’s true that I originally planned to go upstairs to his apartment before Uncle Harold called. But after the experience of watching him unravel, I felt deep satisfaction and…something else that I have decided to ignore for the time being.
Because, honestly, it was a lot more intense than I ever would have imagined.
And I don’t know what to do with that yet.
I’m nearly to the house, repeatedly humming the jingle from a radio commercial I must’ve overheard somewhere, when my phone rings.
Cal, finally off his call with Uncle Harold and wanting me to come back?
I hope not. I don’t know how to explain that I left not just because I’m truly quite exhausted but because I saw my reflection in the blackness of his pupils when our eyes met toward the end, and I got a bit freaked out by the reminder that it was me there—totally unvarnished and exposed—on my knees in front of him.
A quick glance at my phone’s screen tells me it’s just my sister. Thank god.
“Yellllow?”
“Where have you been?” Bridget demands without preamble.
“Working late,” I lie.
“You could’ve told me, you know. I’ve just been sitting here with the TV paused on some blonde lady’s face for two hours now.”
I clasp my hand to my forehead. “Oh shit. We were supposed to start that Great Pyramids of Minnesota miniseries tonight.”
“Yes. We were. And it’s fine if you needed to reschedule, but you could have said something instead of letting me worry that you got kidnapped or—”
“I was having sex,” I blurt out, desperate for both the excuse and the confession.
“You were…Annie! With whom?”
“Cal.”
“You had sex with your boss?”
“He isn’t my boss! He’s my, uh, temporary colleague. Who is sort of in charge of me. But also, like, not really.”
Bridget lets out a heavy sigh. The same one that’s always accompanied me telling her about a new man in my life.
I’m expecting her to lecture me on how I’ve worked too hard in therapy over the last year trying to figure out who I am and what I want to be leaping into this ill-advised liaison.
Except instead she surprises me by asking, “Well, was it any good?”
“What? I mean, yeah. It was just oral. But like, really hot— Wait. Since when do we talk about this stuff? I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“You’re the one who told me you had sex!” she protests.
“I did, didn’t I,” I say, smiling to myself as I lock the front door to Harold’s house behind me.
“It was great. And a lot of fun. But I also don’t…
” I trail off as I throw myself onto the sofa.
“Is it normal to feel both really happy and really scared after being intimate with someone for the first time?”
“Um. I’m pretty sure you have more experience with first times than I do…”
“No, I mean, like…I’ve never been with someone while being myself before.
” I pick at the tasseled trim on a throw pillow.
“Sex has always been a sort of performance for me in a lot of ways. But what I experienced with Cal tonight…Bridge, there wasn’t even a second of having to think about it.
With him I’ve been genuinely me since the moment we met.
And being intimate with him was so comfortable but also made me feel…
exposed? Like, not just physically naked, but emotionally too. ”
“Hm,” she says. “I think I understand what you’re saying.”
“Okay, but is it normal?”
“I wouldn’t go so far to say that anything about you is normal, Annie. But it does make sense, I think. Especially given what you’ve told me about how this is all new for you.” Bridget pauses. “So are you and he, like, together now?”
“Oh, no. Not that we talked about it. But I’m pretty sure neither one of us is interested in anything serious.
” As soon as I say it, I realize that I don’t know if this is actually true.
I’m into Cal, obviously. I’ve grown to enjoy his company, and I definitely enjoyed what happened between us tonight.
Still, I’m leaving in a few weeks, and when I get back home, I’m sure all my energy would be best directed toward getting my store up and running.
Plus, just because he was able to move on physically doesn’t mean Cal is ready to move on emotionally from his breakup with Nicole.
Fifteen years together is a hell of a long time, and while it’s flattering that I’m the first woman he found himself interested in fooling around with, it doesn’t mean I should expect that interest to extend to anything more than that.
But is a continued physical relationship between us even possible without it getting emotionally complicated? Considering how much what we shared tonight stripped me bare, I’m starting to think the answer to that question is no. At least on my end.
As much as I hate to accept it, perhaps it’s best if this were a one-time thing. “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow,” I decide aloud. “But I’m sure he’ll agree that it was just a bit of fun. Probably shouldn’t happen again.”
“What if he doesn’t agree?” she asks. “What if he was hoping this was the start of something real?”
The start of something real. My stomach swoops at the thought before dismissing it.
Thirteen years of being a bit of fun, something to be gotten out of the system before one settles down with someone more suitable, has made it much harder to convince myself that anyone could truly ever see me as anything else.
And if no one wanted real when they thought I was perfect, well, Cal certainly couldn’t want real with the imperfect, eccentric, too much version of me.
“Then I guess he’ll be disappointed, ’cause I only know how to do fake,” I say.
It’s like I can hear Bridget’s responding frown at the joke that she knows wasn’t really a joke at all. “Or,” she counters, “you could start dating.”
“No, we could not.”
“Why? Don’t you like him?”
“I do. But I don’t live here, Bridge, remember? When I go back to Jersey…”
“Right. It’s not like technology and transportation exist to facilitate long-distance relationships.”
“I’m not ready!” I say, a bit too forcefully. “I’m just…I’m not ready. I still have a lot of work to do on myself.”
“You are indeed a piece of work,” Bridget says.
I roll my eyes. “Not what I said.”
Her voice goes softer. “I know putting yourself out there without any pretense isn’t easy for you. But like you said, you’ve been that person with Cal this whole time and he seems to be into that.” My sister cuts the sweetness of her words with a mumbled “For some strange reason.”
“You’re right. I should go knock on his door right now and declare my undying love to a man I barely know and who I’m pretty sure is still hung up on his ex, all so that my older sister will get off my case.”
“You’re being purposely obtuse,” Bridget accuses. “And letting fear dictate your life.”
“Sure am,” I confirm, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Now, are we starting our show or not? I heard the author of the book and his wife have a little cameo in one of the episodes.”
She lets out another long sigh. “Fine. Just let me go pee again first.”