Chapter 22
After throwing on a robe, peeing, and checking my face in the mirror, I slowly make my way toward the front door, where the incessant knocking continues.
If I don’t go, she will never stop, and unfortunately, I once trusted her enough to give her my spare key.
When I open the door, I am not surprised to see Widow Jenkins standing there.
I am surprised to see the Ericksons, the Thompsons, and Ben with his three kids.
I’m glad I have spent some time hanging with the Ericksons recently, so I have knowledge about them to focus on besides their lifestyle activities.
Ben is staring at his shoes. I slowly start to shut the front door in their faces when WJ hip checks it and slides inside.
“Good God, Cassie. You know we come over for coffee and rolls every Saturday morning. You should be up and ready to entertain.”
This is a bald-faced lie. I have never in my life invited anyone in this neighborhood into my house. They just show up, and this is early and insane even for them.
Holly chimes in, “Yeah, Cassie! What happened? Did you forget? Oversleep?”
“I must have forgotten to set my alarm,” I grumble, stepping aside to let the whole herd into my house. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
One speed walk to my bathroom, and ten minutes later, my teeth are brushed, my hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and I’m wearing actual clothes.
Nothing magical, but at least I don’t smell.
I can’t believe I have to face Ben less than twelve hours after sleeping with him, and the experience not going particularly well.
In my kitchen, the busy bodies are making coffee and setting out the breakfast they brought over.
Someone turned on my television to a children’s show, and the girls are lying on the living room floor watching it.
The husbands are sitting on the couch, gossiping.
Ben is sitting at my kitchen counter, staring at his hands.
He hasn’t said a word and seems to be trying to disappear.
As I pass behind him, I squeeze his shoulder and keep moving toward Sheila, Holly, and WJ. They don’t look like they need or want my help; nevertheless, I feel obligated to offer since we are in my home.
“You ladies need help with anything?” I ask, simply to be a good host for this impromptu attack, er, gathering. I have no interest in helping or creating any kind of precedent that could cause this event to continue.
WJ responds immediately, shooing me out of the way. “The only thing you could do to help is have your ass up in the morning and ready to go next time.” I roll my eyes violently. “Go sit down at the counter and take a load off. We, old ladies, can handle this.”
Pulling out a chair, I plop down next to Ben, who seems to be intently studying the pattern of my granite countertops.
I nudge him with my shoulder and whisper a soft, “Hey.”
He dares a peek at me and gives me half a smile. “Hey, yourself.”
Continuing to avoid eye contact with me, he mutters, “They don’t come over for breakfast on Saturdays, do they?”
I let out a breathy laugh and say, “Nope.”
“About five minutes after you left last night, Jenkins texted me and asked me over for breakfast. Then this morning, she said there was a change of plans, and you were hosting. I already had the girls up and ready with the promise of donuts. But I knew. I fucking knew,” he groans.
I reach for his shoulder and give him a squeeze, “It’s okay, big guy. It’s better not to fight it. You won’t win.” I turn my chair toward him, forcing him to face me. I squeeze my legs inside the space between his legs, forcing some closeness.
“The good news is, I don’t have to wait seven to ten days to see you again,” I whisper, giving him a wink.
He responds by groaning and plopping his head on the counter, grabbing the attention of the kitchen ladies.
“What’s wrong, Ben? Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” WJ asks as casually as a meddling old biddy can.
“I’m good, Jenkins. Thanks for the invite to breakfast. Can’t wait to make this a weekly ritual.”
WJ stutters a bit while walking across the kitchen. “Well, we might not do it next weekend. We’ll see. It’s like semi-weekly.”
All of the ladies are giggling and obviously know their cover is blown. In a bold move, I say, “So, which one of you saw me coming home from Ben’s last night?”
Holly immediately yells and points. “It was Emilia! We had nothing to do with it other than her plan for breakfast seemed fun.”
“Uh huh. And would you guys like to know what we did last night?”
Ben looks at me with terror in his eyes while all three ladies shout, “YES!”
I gestured for them to come in close, so the kids in the adjacent room wouldn’t hear.
In a hushed voice, I start to explain. “Well, Ben needed help setting up the new swing he got for his sex dungeon. He prefers much older women, but didn’t have a lot of options and needed a female body to make sure it was set up right.
I obviously volunteered because I have become accustomed to having no boundaries with the neighbors.
My shirt got caught on the swing and just ripped right off, so he took that opportunity to do a line of coke off of my abs.
He offered his abs to me, but I prefer to snort cocaine off of butt cheeks, so we went that route.
He’s a lightweight, so he passed out right away, and I came home. ”
All three ladies are glaring at me, arms crossed. “Do you want to tell us what really happened, young lady?” Holly asks.
“We watched TV, one of his kids barfed, and I came home.”
The ladies all groan, and Ben is still bent over the counter, hiding his face in his arms. His body is shaking, so he seems to be laughing inside the safety of his man cocoon. Tension breaker, had to be done.
I lean over and nudge Ben in the shoulder. When he looks up at me, I ask him, “Do you want to come see my cows?”
“Is that code for something?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.
“No. I have bedroom cows. Come on.”
Ben and I slip away to my bedroom at the back of the house. I make my way over to the curtains and open them. “Sorry, my room is kind of a mess. I wasn’t expecting company. Obviously.” I wave him over to the window since he is still lurking in my doorway. “See, my cows.”
He comes and looks out my window, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
“Oh wow, you have baby cows. I’m jealous.”
“As you should be.” In the boldest move of the century, I grab his hand and pull him to face me. He does, but then drops his gaze to his feet. “Hey. you're making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry. I’m nervous, and still a little embarrassed, and talking about it is even more embarrassing.”
“Please don’t be. Because eventually I'm going to do something that I'm going to be embarrassed about, possibly even today, and I need to know you can recover quickly.”
“I don’t want to erase last night from my memory because it was so good, and I would like to have the opportunity to repeat it, but more effectively.
” He pauses, and I can tell he has something else to say, so I decide to just wait it out.
“I think I really like you. I don’t want to screw up again. ”
“You didn’t screw up. I’m choosing to take it as the ultimate compliment and requesting we try again.”
He grins. “I would really, really like to try again. I have skills. I promise.”
“Do I still have to wait seven to ten days?”
“God, I hope not.” Another pause, and he gets a dirty little smirk on his face. “So last night, when you came home, did you…?”
My turn to be embarrassed. “No comment.”
“God, that’s hot. I think if you showed me your…process…that would be most helpful and educational.”
“We’ll see how it goes.”
He grabs my chin with his hands and gives me the eye contact I have been craving.
Something to let me know that he isn’t going to let an awkward moment ruin whatever is happening between us.
As I look into his eyes, I know I’m a goner.
I’m smitten. I know he is not my usual type, but his wit and his charm have me absolutely enamored with him.
The more I get to know him, the more attractive he becomes.
He pulls my face close to his, so our lips are almost touching, and whispers, “Thanks for being so amazing.” He pulls me closer until our lips meet in a brief kiss.
My insides are mush, and I need to step away before I take him to bed with a half-dozen intruders in my house. “We’d better get back out there before more rumors start swirling. Even though it is probably too late.”
Back in the kitchen, breakfast is served—donuts for the girls and an egg bake for the adults.
While the morning intrusion was not what I had planned for my day, I feel happy.
It’s nice to have people who care about me enough to meddle in my life.
It’s nice to have a house full of people.
I’m used to being alone most of the time.
Would I have chosen an ex-addict, a flasher, a curmudgeonly old widow, baby-boomer swingers, and a single dad to be my friend group?
Probably not, but that’s part of the fun.
They can’t ever know this because then, they’ll never let me have any time to be by myself and just breathe.