I readied for him. I couldn’t sleep that night, so I got up and cleaned the apartment from top to bottom. He’d been by once before, but just to drop something off, and had barely come in the front door. I set out candles, and as soon as it was light, I went shopping. I picked up new sheets, sexy, dark red ones, and a babydoll nightie… I suspected I wouldn’t be wearing it long. I bought a cheese tray and a bottle of wine. I didn’t know what time he’d be around, so I couldn’t really plan. And I didn’t think we’d be eating much anyway.
The day stretched out into mid afternoon. I was a wreck of excitement and nerves. I kept checking the computer for him, checking for texts, but he was silent. I wanted to reach out, but suddenly, I was too worried about being clingy. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Maybe the flush had worn off, and now that he’d had a taste, he was done.
I gave myself a mental shake and tried to gain perspective. That wasn’t Adam. What we had ran far deeper than sex. I knew it in my heart, but the broken part of my psyche, the part that had been trampled under too many bad relationships, whispered the negative thoughts, and I started to believe them.
Dusk fell. I opened the wine. I cried. I hated myself, for crying, for letting it matter, for believing him, for giving it away…
And then my phone buzzed.