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“Little Munchkins Daycare, how can we help you?” asks the chirpy voice.
“I’m here to speak to Ms. Sylvie Wyatt.”
“Of course. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but it’s an urgent matter. I’m Greyson Moore.” I add my name, fully aware that it often opens doors wide. I'll take any amount of help I need. I texted Sylvie and tried to call her a few times this morning, but she didn’t pick up. I need to straighten out our situation and talk about last night.
A zing of awareness travels through my body when memories of us in the limo pop into my mind.
“Give me a moment,” the clerk says, yanking me back to reality.
A smiling woman in her twenties opens the door a few seconds later. “Welcome. Ms. Sylvie will be right with you.”
She gestures at the waiting area, but I'm too edgy to sit on one of the couches or grab one of the parenting magazines on the coffee table.
I considered visiting Sylvie at home, but I assumed she’d be at work at this time. Besides, it might creep her out if I showed up on her doorstep unannounced. A casual chat at her work may be easier.
Why am I thinking so much? It’s not like we’re total strangers. My dick was inside her last night. Which brings me here.
I take a deep breath. We need to chat.
Sylvie enters my field of vision, and all the measured responsibility dissipates from my brain. My groin stirs, and all I can think about is slamming her against the nearest wall and fucking her until we’re both lightheaded.
She’s wearing a pair of slacks and a polo shirt with the daycare logo embroidered above her breast. An unremarkable outfit for a very remarkable woman. I clear my throat.
“Hi,” she says, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Come with me.”
She cocks her head in the direction she came from, and I follow her, walking through the hallways until we make it to a courtyard. The large space has lush green vegetation lining the wrought iron and a few toys that kids can climb onto and slide down.
Besides us, no one else is here.
“Thanks for seeing me,” I say.
Sylvie looks behind me to ensure no one walks our way before her gaze shifts to me. “What happened? Is everything okay? How did you find out where I worked?”
“You mentioned you worked with your sister. An online search was all it took. I couldn’t sleep last night. The way you left was abrupt.” I move closer, and she steps back, sitting on the bench. I jam my hand in my pocket. "What's wrong?"
“Where do I start? We had sex.” She rubs her forehead. “I wanted you to help me get into Sugar & Silk so I can have a better relationship next time with someone more seasoned and less screwed up. And, well, look at our last interaction. We literally screwed. Not that I didn’t want it, I did, but what the fuck is wrong with me?”
I sit beside her on the wrought-iron bench with an arm’s length of space between us so she feels safe. “Don’t be ashamed. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you didn’t pounce on me. I fucked you because I wanted to.” And I’d do it all over again, I add inwardly. I can't think about anything else. But I can't tell her that without scaring her off.
Pink blossoms on Sylvie’s cheeks. She touches her neck, drumming her fingers on her skin. She clears her throat. “Still, I feel like I failed the test before even taking it.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. We both acted on impulse. No need to dwell on it.”
She looks away for a moment before returning her gaze to me. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
"I'm here because I failed you when we acted impulsively. For the first time in forever, I didn't wear a condom or ask if you were protected." I can’t recall the last time I had sex without protection besides during my marriage. That it only dawned on me hours after we fucked in the car is baffling.
Sylvie claps a hand to her mouth. Looks like I’m not the only one to have neglected this practical but important detail. “Shit, I didn’t even think about it, which is unusual for me too. I have a contraceptive implant, and I’m clean if you’re worried about that.” She stares at me, her eyes darkening to a Christmas tree green.
“I’m clean too. If you need to see proof?—”
She waves her hand. "We’re doing this backward."
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’re off the hook. I won’t mention us sleeping together to my brother-in-law or anyone.”
