Page 49 of Lovestrung

It had to be this way.

It just had to.

12

Waiting

Present Day

Penelope: Something’s come up. I can’t make it to dinner tonight. Sorry.

I furrowed my brows and stared at the text on my phone, willing the words to disappear from the screen. That wasn’t part of the plan. I’d waited a whole year for her to come back – there were times it felt like I’d waited my entire life for only her, and now this? A brush-off?

A drop of water fell on the screen, and I brushed my wet hair off my face. I’d just come out of the shower, ready to spend the day getting my apartment to look more like a home before seeing her tonight, and when her name had lit up my screen, I hadn’t bothered to grab a towel and dry myself before reading it.

I fired off a text to her.

Me: Sunshine, are you sick?

Anxious for her answer, I wiped the steam off the mirror in my bathroom and stared hard at my reflection before picking up shaving foam and my razor. My phone dinged, and I looked down at it as it balanced on the counter.

Penelope: No, but my parents decided to spend the night and I don’t feel right ditching them so soon after I’ve just returned home. And Eliza and Hugo are staying as well, so…

Clenching my teeth, I cursed southern hospitality to the fiery pits of hell. Before I risked sounding like a lovesick fool and texted her back, begging her to come to me, my cell dinged again.

Penelope: But to tell the truth, we’re all pretty jet lagged today, so taking it easy is probably best.

I grunted. I hadn’t thought of that, so couldn’t exactly blame her for wanting to take it easy on her first day home. Still, I had a nagging suspicion that she was telling me a bunch of excuses and not the real reason for cancelling on me.

Me: Get some rest. How about tomorrow?

Penelope: We’ll see.

Annoyance flared to life and instead of giving her a scathing reply, I grabbed the shaving cream and lathered up. I rinsed my hands, letting the soothing water cool my temper, before drying off and I sent her another text.

Me: Don’t play coy with me. Do you regret what happened yesterday?

It took her a long time to reply, but when it did, a wicked grin crept over my lips.

Penelope: No, I don’t. My head is still spinning from the way you kissed me.

Me: Good.

Penelope: I never wanted you to stop. No boy has ever kissed me like that.

Me: I’m no boy, darlin’. You’ll do well to remember that.

Penelope: That sounds like a threat.

Me: Not a threat. Consider it more a promise of what’s to come the next time I see you.

Resigned that I wouldn’t get another taste of Penelope any time soon, I finished shaving and left the bathroom. I went to the walk-in-closet next to my new bed that had arrived this morning and pulled on some sweats and a T-shirt and then I set about unpacking so that I could spend the next few hours getting the rest of my new bookshelves up.

What I really wanted to do was to send off a string of texts to her, conveying the fantasies I’d had of her for so long, but I managed to keep in check. I wasn’t great with words. I preferred showing a woman what I wanted. I gave while taking, always making sure she was satisfied before getting my own release, but when I thought about our heavy make-out session yesterday and how close I’d come to spilling my load before she’d come, a shudder coursed through me. I felt like a wild teenager again instead of a twenty-seven-year-old man.

When my phone alerted me of another text, I was scowling at the step-by-step guide in my hand. Who the fuck knew it would be this fucking complicated to assemble bookshelves?

I sighed and picked up my phone from my pocket.