Chapter 16
Abby
Sixteen Weeks
Holy fuck.
I should have locked my door. I should have checked the time, or asked when Jack would be home from work, or gotten in the shower.
I should have done anything and everything possible to prevent…that.
I’m mortified. My hormones have been off the charts lately, and since I don’t exactly have anyone to help with that anymore, I bought myself a nice little toy as a treat. And she has been putting in work.
But no one needed to know that. Especially Jack.
This is so bad.
Without finishing, I quickly toss the rose into my bedside table and straighten out my nightgown before opening my door and flying down the hall.
“Jack?” I call out, but then I hear the shower running.
Okay, so he’s avoiding me. Or maybe he’s just showering after a long day at work.
Fingers crossed it’s the second one.
I sit on the couch with a sigh, my head dropping into my hands, elbows propped up on my thighs. Those thirty seconds play on repeat in my mind, no matter how hard I try to fight them.
The horrified look on Jack’s face would be funny if this weren’t so overwhelmingly embarrassing. But the pulsing between my legs resumes when I remember the split second before he realized I saw him.
His gray eyes were fixed between my legs, a hungry expression on his face that I’ve never seen before. For the briefest moment, there wasn’t shock or mortification–I swear there was want.
Except you have seen that expression before. You know, in the wildly inappropriate sex dream you’ve had about a dozen times?
The thought has me squeezing my thighs together, the slickness between my legs returning in full force.
This is not good, I think to myself, even as I walk quickly back to my room to finish the job. This is Jack, for goodness sake.
But I can’t deny how good it feels to feel wanted again, even if I was imagining it. It’s been four months since Aaron died–four months since I’ve had an orgasm. The longest I’ve gone since Aaron and I had our first time together at age sixteen.
It’s natural that it would feel good. You’re a grieving widow, but you’re still a person. And your hormones are going wild. It has nothing to do with Jack. It could have been anyone.
When I’ve finally reassured myself enough, I reach back into my bedside table and retrieve my new hot-pink best friend.
No use in robbing yourself of an orgasm just because it was a little awkward.
It doesn’t take long before I’m seeing stars, my body shaking as I ride out my orgasm. When my breathing returns to normal, I tiptoe to the bathroom, trying not to make any noise as I clean the toy off.
I need to smooth this over with Jack, play it off like it’s no big deal.
The look on his face appears behind my closed eyes, and I decide I need a little bit longer to cool off before I’ll be able to look him in the eye again.
If that’s even possible.
***
When he finally emerges from the bathroom door I’ve been watching like a hawk, I try to casually run into him in the hallway.
“Oh, hey,” I say, my voice too bright to be natural. “Listen, about that–”
“I actually can’t talk, I’m in a rush,” he mumbles, not meeting my eye.
“Oh? I thought you just got home?”
“Just needed to shower,” he says, moving past me. “Going out.”
“Really?” I frown. “I thought we were ordering food and watching shitty TV.”
“Can’t tonight, sorry. Next time.”
Our hands brush as he hurries past me, and I hear the hitch in both of our breaths. He finally meets my eye, looking like a deer in headlights, but there’s something else. He looks almost angry.
“Jack…” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Nothing to talk about, Abby, it’s fine. I’m just busy,” he says shortly as he shrugs his jacket on. “See you later.”
Without a word, he hurries out the front door, letting it slam shut behind him.
I stand in dumbfounded silence for a minute or two before turning slowly and sitting on the edge of the couch in the living room. The bedding Jack has been using is neatly folded on one end, and even from several feet away, I can smell him on the sheets.
During my first trimester, my sense of smell was insane–I swear I was discovering scents previously unknown to man, both good and bad.
Mostly bad. Most of that has gone away now, but for some reason, I can still pick up hints of Jack even when he’s gone.
Hints of cedarwood and leather, and always a faint tinge of smoke.
It hits me how little time I’ve spent alone in this house recently, and how much worse it’s making this moment feel. I know it was awkward as shit, but I didn’t expect him to bolt like that. I thought maybe we’d laugh about it, swear to never mention it again, and then move on.
What the hell is his problem?
Angry tears well in my eyes. He’s the one who walked in on me, what did he get mad at me for? I didn’t do anything wrong. And he didn’t actually do anything wrong either; he was worried and came to check on me. I certainly wasn’t mad at him.
Not until now, anyway.
Furiously swiping at my eyes, refusing to let any tears fall, I fumble for my phone to call Ellie.
“Hi, my sweet ginger angel!” Her words come through loudly, affectionately, and a little slurred. “Put the phone to your stomach so I can say hi to the mini ginger angel too!”
“Where are you?” I ask. “Are you drunk?”
“Noooo, not drunk,” she giggles. “Tipsy. Just a little tipsy. I’m–”
Her words are cut off by a rustling sound, and the next voice I hear is Griffin’s.
“She’s absolutely drunk, don’t let her lie to you,” he says as she shouts protest in the background. “We’re in Boston for the weekend at some charity event her firm is sponsoring, and my darlin’ wife has made it her mission to test the limits of the open champagne bar.”
“That sounds fun,” I say with a sad smile. “Enjoy it. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Wait,” he says quickly before I can hang up. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “I guess Jack had plans tonight and I didn’t know, and so I’m here by myself.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hear Ellie wrestle the phone back.
“What do you mean Jack has plans?” she demands. “He doesn’t hang out with anyone but us.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” I say, chewing on my lip. “He just left.”
“Did something happen?” Griffin’s voice, and the quieting of the background noise tells me that they’ve stepped away from the party and put me on speaker.
“We can talk about it when you get back,” I mutter evasively.
“Oh my God, something did happen,” Ellie gasps, then hiccups. “What did he do? I’ll kick his ass into next week.”
“You, my sweet Ellie Bellie, aren’t kicking anything right now. You need to go drink some water. Griffin, get her home safely.”
“You know I will,” he says, and I hear Ellie giggle as he smacks a wet kiss on her cheek. “We’ll be home Sunday afternoon, come over then and tell us what happened. Do we need to kick his ass?”
“No, Griffin, it’s fine,” I say, sadness crawling back up my insides. “I’ll see you Sunday. Love you guys.”
“We love you!” they shout in unison, and then the line goes dead. I set my phone down next to me and lay my head against the back of the couch.
You cannot sit here and mope for the rest of the night.
Picking my phone back up, I scroll until I find the contact I’m looking for. This is probably a terrible idea, but I can’t stomach the thought of sitting here alone any longer.
“Uhhh, hello?”
“Hi David,” I say awkwardly. “It’s Abby.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve had your number saved for fifteen years,” he says suspiciously. “But you never call me. Why are you calling me?”
“Um, well, I was just wondering what you’re doing tonight.”
“What I’m doing tonight,” he repeats slowly.
“Yeah, like, do you have any plans?”
“...why, did someone say something?”
“What? No,” I say. “I just wanted to know if you were free. I know we’re not doing Abby Duty anymore, but I’m at the house by myself, and Ellie and Griffin are gone, and Jack had plans–”
“What do you mean Jack had plans?”
“I don’t know, David,” I snap. “He didn’t give me the details; he just said he had plans and left in a hurry.”
“Hmmm, that’s weird,” he muses. “But no, I don’t have plans. Have you eaten? I can bring pizza.”
“Pizza actually sounds amazing,” I sigh with relief. “All Little One wants these days is carbs and cheese.”
“Okay, cool, I’ll be there soon.”
“Will you,” I say nervously. “Will you text me when you’re on the way and stuff? It just…makes me nervous. To not know where people are.”
There’s a long silence, followed by the softest voice I’ve ever heard come out of David Romero’s mouth.
“You got it, mama. I’ll keep you posted. Tell the fetus Funcle David is on the way with all the cheese and carbs it can imagine.”
“Okay, I will,” I laugh. “See you soon.”