I smile down at my sleeping daughter comfy in her crib. I tuck a wispy curl away from her closed eye. She plays at one-hundred miles per hour all day then crashes hard at nap and bed time.
My phone rings loudly from my bedroom. I turn off the lamp and pull the nursery door halfway as I return to my room.
“Hey, I thought you might be dodging my call tonight.”
Hamilton’s voice wraps me like a fleece blanket. I assure him I was just out of my room and not avoiding him. I sit yoga-style on my bed. I place my cell phone on two pillows in front of me, so I can relax my arms.
We chat about Hamilton’s travel today and tomorrow’s game in Arizona. I share about my week, teaching summer school and the many teaching positions I continue to apply for in hopes of securing a job for fall.
“Don’t get too hung up on the job search,” concern laces his voice. “Remember it’s a numbers game. You should reward yourself for each one you apply for.”
“Ham, I’m good. Really.” I know he worries I might slide backwards. “I met with my doctor today. We’ve lowered my dosage for the second time. I’m on the lowest dose now. I still see my counselor twice each month. I feel good—I really do. I’m not trying to fake that I’m good for your benefit.”
With Alma’s help, I’ve mastered scheduling time for myself every day. I balance work, motherhood, and personal time. I continue to marvel at Alma’s wisdom. I’ve started to fill a notebook with all the things I’ve learned while living with her.
“I believe you. It’s just I know how excited you are to teach, and I hate that you haven’t been offered a contract yet.”
“About that…”
I’m glad Hamilton brought the topic up. I share that recently my work with Cameron and D.C. Bland Publishing I’ve enjoyed focusing more on my writing. Part of me feels guilty for seeking a degree in education and not using it to help children.
Hamilton states my young-adult books might help students experiencing similar situations. I’m using my degree in a different way. He claims when I earn my spot on the NY Times Best Sellers List I will reach more people than I could in a brick and mortar classroom.
I love that Hamilton supports my writing and possible career change. Sometimes I forget he is my number one fan.
“Why are you smiling?”
At my words, his sexy smile morphs into his patented smirk. Like it always does his smile, dimples, and dark stubbled jaw spark a fire in my belly while dampening my panties. My heartbeat quickens. I fight the urge to fan my overheated face aware that Hamilton can see me.
“You come alive when you talk about your writing. It’s sexy.”
“Sexy?”
Hamilton smirks but doesn’t explain. My mind reels as my body continues to react to the words and sight of the man I love upon my phone screen. Hamilton quickly ends our call arousing my suspicion I might affect him as he does me.
I’m aware I won’t be able to focus on writing or sleep until I remedy my current situation. Instead of fantasizing Hamilton in bed with me as I pleasure myself, tonight I imagine he’s masturbating to thoughts of me while I masturbate to thoughts of him.