She doesn’t answer right away. So prickly, my Ali.
“Maybe we should take this stuff back to my place to eat,” I say, not looking at her. “That way you could escape whenever you want.”
“I don’t want to escape.” She says it quietly, but it lands squarely and I puff like a peacock.
“No?”
“Not today, anyway.”
“K. Good.”
—thirty-three—
Alison
I wake up a week later to an empty bed. It’s such a rare occurrence now that my first thought is, “Where’s Scott?” in genuine confusion. It’s a good kind of weird.
My second thought is that I really want some of that damn coffee he bought. Then I realize that’s because I can smell it coming from my kitchen. But when I get there, I just find the freshly brewed coffee with a note explaining that he’s headed to the Mayfair Enterprises offices in Maryland for “boring corporate stuff.”
I roll my eyes and pour myself a cup of coffee, breathing it in before I pad to the fridge for the milk.
It’s good, but it’s still coffee. It needs a healthy splash of dairy.
Attached to the milk carton is another note, this one telling me to check my email. He’s drawn goofy smiley face with a body…and a raging boner.
Classy.
I’m still giggling as I search the living room for my phone. I think I may have shoved it somewhere when we were getting busy last night.
I find it under a cushion and check my messages. Twenty minutes earlier, Scott sent me an email with a couple of attachments. The first one is a scan of his medical test results. The second is a sworn affidavit—oh my God, he’s such a dork—signed by Wilson Carter as a witness.
My heart pounds in my chest as I read his sworn statement.
I, Scott Mayfair, do solemnly and faithfully attest to the fact that I have only had sexual relations with one woman, Ms. Alison Dashford Reid, since December of 2014.
I blink at the screen. 2014?
I pick up the phone and tap his name on my screen. He answers on the first ring and I launch into it before he has a chance to say anything. “You haven’t slept with anyone else in like a year and a half?”
“Well, you haven’t slept with anyone else, ever.”
“That’s different.”
He laughs. “How so?”
“I didn’t know how amazing sex was. Not truly. It was an academic notion.”
He grunts. “It wasn’t an academic notion while we were broken up.”
“True. But…you know.” I can’t imagine ever wanting to have sex with anyone else.
“What?”
“Shut up, that’s what.”
“So you accept my documentation?”
Of course I did. “I suppose.”
“I love it when you play hard to get.”
I snicker.
“I can be back in the city in four hours.”
That sounds perfect. Except…“Damn it!”
He laughs. “Oh no, what?”
“I’ve got a meeting with my advisor this afternoon.”
“Okay. Dinner, then.”
“Dinner and sex, so classy. It’ll need to be late.”
“Late is my speciality. We can make it pizza for that special touch.”
I chuckle. “And eat it in bed.”
— —
First rule of teasing in a new relationship: know what your hard limits are.
I stare at Scott as he plops the pizza box in the middle of my bed.
“No?” he asks, and it’s just cute enough that I change my head shake into a nod.
“It’s okay,” I squeak. “Let’s just move the quilt.”
If I were anyone else, it would be a family heirloom. Since my family doesn’t do quilts, I bought it at Goodwill. But it’s precious to me.
“We can eat at the table,” he says as he fires up my TV.
“Nope, this is…fun.” My mother would be horrified. Maybe so would his ex. I like that idea and strip down to my panties and a tank top and climb onto the bed. “Let’s do this.”
“What was that evil little thought you just had?”
“Nothing.”
He shoves his pants off and joins me, his gaze bright and knowing. “Not nothing.” He cups my cheek, holding me in place as he searches my face. “Tell me.”
“I was thinking…proper people don’t do this.”
“Ah. People like Madelyn?”
“And my mother.”
“Good that you put them in the same category,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice, but it’s not aimed at me.
“Yeah.”
He tugs me into his lap. “You want to know anything about her?”
Yes. No. “I’m still struggling with the idea that you were engaged to her.”
“You and me both. It was a mistake.”
“I got the impression you aren’t the marrying kind.”
“I wasn’t, and Maddie proved that point pretty hard core. Marrying her would have been a terrible mistake.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t love her.”
“But you proposed to her.”
“It wasn’t…whatever fantasy you’ve concocted of a proposal. No grand gesture, no bended knee. It came up one day and it seemed like the obvious next step for us. My cousin is her best friend, we had common interests…”