Chapter 10 – Rule #6 There’s no such thing as brain bleach. Never, ever look callers up on social media.
CHAPTER TEN
KAITLIN
My spinning thoughts keep whirling around Henry. He hasn’t called since we had phone sex, and my texts are unread.
I’m going to have to make it a rule.
I’ve never wanted anything the way I wanted to hear Henry saying my name while coming.
Shit. That’s a bold-faced lie too. I’m the High Priestess of the Lying Liars of Lies because I wanted to get there with him more than anything in the history of ever.
Emotions about phone sex have never been a thing for me, yet here I am, angsting.
One day, I found myself asking, “What do you smell like, my love?” except “my love” was silent. The answer? L’Occitane Verbena. And now I’m officially shameless, spending money on bath products that aren’t from the lowest, cheapest shelf at the grocery store.
How far I’ve fallen. Swept away. When it comes to Henry Sterling, I’ve been swimming against his tide, but he’s overcoming me. I fight his current and lose, but he doesn’t even know I’m swimming.
“Jess, I need your advice,” I say, emptying my shopping bag on the kitchen table. We’re both home and awake, so I embrace the opportunity to talk despite dreading the conversation.
She stops, fixing me with a perplexed look. Fair. I’m more the giving-unsolicited-advice type. “What’s up?”
I hold up my fancy French bath products. “Sniff this verbena one and sniff that almond oil one and tell me which is better?”
She sniffs. “Trick question—they’re both fabulous. That was easier than expected.”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “That wasn’t the advice question.”
“What’s up?” she says, looking me over.
“Never mind,” I say and start to walk to my room. “And, uh, thanks.” Conversation over, I wander toward my room.
“Oh, Kaitlin, my dearest, oldest, best, and cheapest friend?” She squints at me. “You’ve been acting weird the last few days.” I nod. It’s obnoxious but true. “Spill. You know you can’t keep a secret from me.”
She pauses, waiting for me to guilt spew. I resist. I don’t have to fill the silence. I do not. I don’t. Fucking hell, can we not do this?
“I, uh,” I say, then go silent. I’m not going to talk about this with anyone. I’m not doing it.
“Yes?”
Fuckity fuck fuck. Sheepish, I say, “I broke a rule.”
“Well, praise Jesus and hallelujah, it’s about time,” she says like a cable preacher as her snark runneth over. “Was it Rule Two again, with you hanging up when he falls asleep?”
I squirm and remain silent. Then she digs in.
“Or did you lose your fucking mind and violate Rule Nine by having outside contact with a caller, which always ends up with someone getting fired?” she says, serious, her smile waning into concern.
“Don’t get me wrong, if there’s ever been a man worth being locked out of your own company for, it’s Henry Sterling, but please don’t. ”
“Geez,” I say, irritated. “I’m not a moron. I violated Rule Three. I started the sexy talk.”
Jessica is rubbing her temples like I’m giving her a raging headache. “Thank god. If it was outside contact, we were going to have a major problem with Ana.”
“Well, no.” All I had to do was stay silent, and yet what do I do? I speak. I open my big fat mouth, and the truth falls out. “It was the first time ever.”
She gapes at me. “Henry has been calling for what, seven months, and you two just had some sort of phone sex détente? You’ve never gotten phone sexy?”
“Correct,” I say with a shrug as my cheeks heat.
She looks at me and blinks. A lot. “Jesus, it’s like finding out Westley and Buttercup don’t actually like each other.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Everyone’s super weirdly curious about Henry. He would be so embarrassed if he even knew we were talking about this.”
She laughs. “He would be embarrassed, or you would?”
Ouch.
“Me.” Humiliated even. “I would be.” I stop making eye contact and look at my elbow like it’s suddenly interesting.
“You, Kaitlin MacPhoneHo, who once jumped on my desk, pantomimed slapping a juicy booty, and yelled—in front of an audience of at least eight people, mind—‘Take it, Nasty, take it!’ at a caller while you pretended to peg him, are embarrassed to have people know you had phone sex? The watercooler delivery guy hasn’t looked any of us in the eye since that day, that poor man.
There you were, being you, in the middle of the office. ”
She chuckles, and I giggle, and everything is right with the world again.
“That was hilarious,” she says.
Jessica’s right. I’m shameless when it comes to phone sex. I can have—and have done—phone sex in the center of a busy room and thought it was hi-fucking-larious. I am being weird.
Jess chuckles at the memory, then asks, “Does Henry know you want him forever and always?”
I shake my head. “I don’t…” I’m not his. He’s not mine.
“Kaitlin,” she says, her voice gentle, “everyone is curious about Henry because you’re so insatiably curious about Henry.
You glow. I know from our doorway if it’s Henry on the phone because you’re so cheerful.
All the rules you make up to keep yourself and everyone else in line, mostly to protect the soft heart you try to hide…
you’ve never let a man get close before.
I’m also sure this is a terrible idea. A truly awful, but potentially wonderful, idea. ”
She gives me a big hug, then a wicked little smile appears on her gorgeous face. “How did he sound?”
Like the sexiest man alive, like lust on a smut cracker, like an aphrodisiac that could be bottled and sold for millions of dollars per milliliter. “Okay, I guess,” I mumble, like I’m talking about a lukewarm, soggy, unsalted french fry. “Fine.”
She snorts. “You’re so protective,” she says with a laugh. “It’s adorable.”
“I am protective,” I reply. “I’m also territorial, jealous of his friends, any rodents that may reside in his office building, and his best friend slash paralegal Julian, who’s straight.
I’m clingy and needy, possessive and obsessive, it’s insane.
Luckily, you can be trusted to keep my disgrace to yourself. ”
“Kaitlin, have you told him you’re madly in love with him?”
“I’m not,” I say with a shake of my head. “You can’t fall in love with someone over the phone.”
“Hah! You not draining his minute bank while he sleeps is true love.” She’s kind of a jerk sometimes.
“Whatever.”
“Please endeavor not to fuck up your entire life for a caller,” she says. I try not to wince— and fail. “Even if he does have the perfect voice for smutty audiobooks.”
Glaring at my Henry phone does not make it ring.
I give up. I’m done moping about him not calling.
If he never calls again, it’s my own fault for pushing him.
I’m in the shower—of course— when the opening notes of “Lucky Man” ring out, and I make like a human slip ’n slide, skidding out of the shower to grab it.
I answer with my hair dripping and a puddle forming around my feet.
“Hi, Kait!” He’s… perky. “Life has conspired to keep me from hearing your voice.”
I put him on speakerphone, grab a towel, and dry off. “I was hoping you’d call. I need to apologize.” I wrap my head in a towel before biting my nails. Correction, I’m biting cuticle—there are no nails left.
“Apologize? I don’t understand?” If I were playing name that tone of voice, I’d say genuinely perplexed.
“I didn’t respect your wishes.” I mean it. “I pushed you until you consented, but you didn’t really want to.”
He makes a soft sound of affection before he speaks. “Oh, babes, if I had a genie and could rub a lamp, I’d wish to feel that way again. I did want, uh, that, but I needed a tiny push in that direction, to know it was okay with you.”
“So we’re okay?” I stand there, damp and cold, with my eyes closed. “Really, really?”
“We’re so much better than okay, babes.” He’s soft and gentle and so sweet. “We’re fantastic. Always, Kait. Always.”
“I’m… relieved.” I could weep with the flood of it coursing through my veins.
“Is everything okay?”
I make a squeak that sounds vaguely like a yes.
“Good. I’ve missed you so much. Saoirse called very bright and too early the morning after we talked.
Massive plumbing leak at her place, and she couldn’t find the whole house turnoff valve, and the landlord wasn’t answering the phone, so I went, my phone got destroyed in the mess, my backup data didn’t repopulate. ”
That makes me feel better about him not calling sooner.
“I had to google Bedtime Stories and talk to Janelle in the office to get your private number.” Janelle is Ana’s phone name for when she has to talk to callers about their accounts. “It’s been a mess. Literally and figuratively.”
His voice, warm and rich, never fails to make me smile. I’m so happy to hear from him.
“I would wait for privacy, but that may never happen, so I called while Saoirse’s distracted by designer things she can’t afford.”
He makes me believe in impossible things, namely that there’s hope for a single woman who wants a kind, decent man who is also sexy AF. Even one like me, who doesn’t want any of that.
“She’s on a rampage,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Could you make up a lawyer emergency requiring me to take my credit card and depart immediately? I told her I need new winter clothes; now I’m in Dante’s fifth ring of shopping hell. She keeps referring to it as a makeover.”
Stunned, I’m barely able to get the words out. “You’re shopping right now?” In public?
“Yes. I’m not sure I can take much more. She’s embarrassing. And no filter, you know how you tease me about never using foul language? It’s because Saoirse used it all up. There’s none left for me.”
“Where are you?”
“The Magnificent Mile. I’m supposed to know what something called vicuna is.”
If you’re not big on shopping, the Mile would be hell. “You’re in one of the best shopping districts in the world, and she’s spending someone else’s money, and she gets to play dress-up with her brother? You’re hosed.”