I wake up with a hangover because my mid-thirties mom of two ass had no right drinking more than a single glass of wine on a weekday.
I groan once when Darren shifts on his side of the bed, and he laughs, his mouth brushing across my chin. “Go back to sleep,” he tells me.
I’m about to tell him that no, I cannot go back to sleep, the boys have to get ready for school, it’s my turn to drive them, and I’m sure I have at least one important-ish meeting today, but thinking about all that makes my head hurt, and I fall blissfully unconscious again.
I wake up to the sound of Darren’s work voice when I turn around in bed to see him on the phone.
“Thanks so much for handling this, Avery.”
I groan. Darren turns and presses his index finger against his lips. “I’ll call you this afternoon if she’s going to need to take tomorrow off as well.” He nods his head and listens. “Wonderful, thank you.” He hangs up the phone and turns to me. “Go back to sleep. You’re taking the day off.”
I smile gratefully. “Have a good day, babe.”
He smiles, “You too.”
I’m out before he even leaves the bedroom.
I wake up for real just about noon. The house is preternaturally quiet, so quiet it hardly feels like my home. It takes me a bit of time to crawl out of bed and climb into the shower, but when I do, I luxuriate in the spa settings on this expensive ass showerhead I bought but rarely get the chance to use.
I’m always rushing off to work or to take the boys to some activity or worried about leaving them alone for too long or so tired I just want to clean myself quickly and then pass out. But this morning, there’s none of that, so I wash my hair and put on the expensive French body butter I save for special occasions. And because I don’t have anywhere to be, I put on a silk robe with nothing underneath. I plan to thoroughly enjoy my day off.
I’m in the kitchen, taking my first sip of coffee, wondering if I should order lunch from my favorite Italian restaurant when the doorbell rings. I clutch my robe closed and walk carefully to the front door. When I look through the peephole, I’m not shocked to see Jourdan there. I honestly should have expected this when Darren smiled at me this morning, but the hangover was wild.
I take a deep breath and then unlock the door, opening it just enough to peek my head out.
She smiles at me and holds up the bag in her hand. “I brought lunch,” she says.
“I—”
“Darren said you had a little too much fun last night, and you had to stay home today. I’d say I’m sorry, but I don’t like lying.”
“How did you…”
“He said you might like some company and some lunch from…” She turns the paper bag in her hand to show me the logo. “La Bella Rosa?”
“It’s my favorite Italian restaurant,” I say with a smile. God, I love that man. “I— I thought you had to open at work today?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but when I do that, I take a half-day. I’m usually dead on my feet by noon if I have to open, and then I start fucking up basic measurements, and my dyslexia gets worse when I can’t concentrate. It’s a mess. Darren didn’t tell you?”
“Uh…no.”
She holds the bag out to me. “You can just take it, and I can go. No worries. I don’t have to come in.”
“No, no, sorry, come inside. Please.” I duck behind the door and pull it open for her to enter.
The house feels different with her inside it, and so do I. I close the door and cross my arms over my chest, one hand holding the robe closed at my neck, not that it does much to hide my body.
Darren bought this robe for me on our third wedding anniversary. He’d saved up for six months. I told him it was too much money for something so thin and fragile and short. But the way he’d fucked me that night, the silk skimming over our bodies like a soft caress contrasting with his strong fist in my hair, was the kind of memory that made this gift more consequential every time I slipped it over my shoulders.
Jourdan kicks off her shoes and turns to me, a smile forming on her face as she sees what I’m wearing, however small. “Oh,” she breathes.
“Oh,” I breathe in response.
I move my arms and let her see me. Her smile widens when I expose the outline of my breasts. The hunger in her eyes looks so much like Darren’s.
“You know why he sent me here, then?” she asks, reaching out to touch the belt of my robe. I imagine her tugging on it, exposing me, and I want that.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“And how do you feel about that?” She pulls the tie taut but not hard enough to untie it. She’s teasing me. I know she’s teased Darren like this, and I know what it did to him.
“He always knows exactly what I need?” That makes her smile. “How do you feel about him sending you here?” I ask nervously.
She tips her head to the right and smiles. “I skipped out of the office this afternoon like I was going to Disneyland,” she says and then finally pulls my belt loose.