Repeat(61)

“Pretty sure self-defense doesn’t mean kicking people’s asses.”

“Hmph. The best form of defense is attack.”

“But your faith in me is humbling. Tip your head back.”

I wipe some suds out of my eye. “Are you mocking me?”

“Absolutely not.” He so was.

“I just mean . . . if you were into someone else you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes, baby. I’d tell you. But I’m not, okay?”

“Okay. Understood.” Next comes the conditioner and more scalp massage. So damn good. Maybe I should grow my hair back. With longer hair it would take him longer to wash it and the whole experience could be drawn out further. A fine idea.

“You’re not jealous, then?” he asks, the tension still lingering in his voice ever so faintly.

“I’d prefer I was the only one to see the glory that is your bare ass. If that’s jealousy, then I guess I am a little. But when you think about it, it’s no better or worse than you mummifying me with a sheet on the off chance Leif might see some skin.”

He carefully rinses out the conditioner and we’re sadly done. I pump some of the body wash into my hand and get good and clean while he does the same. There’s something fascinating about watching the way his hand moves over his body, the way he handles his goods. So matter-of-fact about the way he washes himself, while here I am ready to write his dick bad poetry. Though to be fair, he does have a really great dick.

“You have a point,” he finally concedes.

“I think a certain amount of jealousy is probably par for the course for the human condition.”

“Agreed.”

We finish up and turn off the water. He towels himself dry with the same efficiency while I dawdle. The thought of going out there and socializing with Shannon doesn’t fill me with glee. It’s just kind of weird to have her here this morning. Or any morning. Given her overabundance and very open (to me at least) opinions regarding previous me and Ed, I’d rather keep the woman at arm’s length.

Obviously I’m not moving fast enough for him, because he wraps a towel around me, carefully tucking the end in above my breasts. Then he kisses my shoulder and leaves. At least he’s wearing a towel around his waist this time. We have actual butt coverage. Sad but necessary.

I put some styling product in my hair and blow dry it. It’s too short to do my makeup first. I learned this by trial and error. Once my scar is covered by my bangs, I apply some concealer, mascara, do my eyebrows, and add a little lip balm. Done. The girl in the mirror looks okay. Despite her matching hickeys, one fading but the other fresh. I’m half-disposed to keep them in clear view. Because Ed did that. Because I made Ed do that. But in the end, I decide that decorum requires the hiding of rough sex. A little concealer goes on either side of my neck.

And I’m delaying. Anxiety has soured my stomach. The question is, do I feel this way because it’s Shannon or because someone new is in my personal space effectively? It feels mostly like the latter with a bit of the former thrown in for fun. Though I didn’t freak out when Leif turned up, so . . .

Ugh to this. I ever so bravely speed walk back to the bedroom and quickly get dressed. There’s conversation and laughter coming from the dining table. The chink of cutlery against china. When I get out there, my eyes no doubt go a little wild. She’s made a stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. There’s also sliced strawberries, banana, and blueberries. I’m pretty sure half of this stuff wasn’t in the fridge. God knows what time she got up and went to the shops to get it all. Normally we just down a coffee, maybe eat a granola bar, and call it good. But oh no. Shannon has pulled out all the stops. The table is even set all pretty like with a blue-and-white-check tablecloth and matching napkins. I had no idea Ed even owned a tablecloth and napkins.

“Grab a seat, baby,” he says, pouring me a cup of coffee as I sit. The way he looks after me makes me melt despite the morning’s weirdness. It’s far more important.

Gordy’s tail beats against my legs. He’s counting on me to get him some of the bacon. Not that he doesn’t love me, but bacon.

Leif looks as happy as a king. A well-fucked and well-fed king.

“Morning, Clem,” says Shannon, sitting on his lap. Her smile is so wide and doubtless genuine. I feel like a bit of a bitch.

“Morning.” I attempt a smile. “You made all this? Wow.”

“She’s spoiling me.” Leif grins, kissing her on the cheek.

“She sure is.”

Despite shoveling pancake into his mouth, Ed doesn’t seem so happy. “Just make sure nothing spills over into the workplace. I don’t want shit getting weird with you two seeing each other.”

“Nothing’s going to get weird. My disciplined professionalism will be more than enough to quell Shannon’s inevitable lustful advances.” Shannon rolls her eyes as Leif shakes his head at Ed. “And you’re worse than an old woman.”

“That’s sexist,” I say, sliding a pancake and some berries onto a plate. Sort of healthy. Of course, drowning the whole thing in about a gallon of maple syrup makes it less so. Whatever.

“All right. He’s worse than an old man, then.”

“And ageist.”

“I’m not going to win here, am I?”