“You like him,” she says, stabbing her fork into her salad with relish. Like she’s killing the lettuce.
“No way,” I reply too quickly. I’m such a liar. “He drives me crazy. He always has.”
“Because you like him. You just didn’t realize it yet. Now you do. The two of you have sex and it’s like roses and romance and you want more,” Wendy says, full of logic.
The sex between us was definitely not roses and romance. I can’t begin to describe what it was like, but not soft and sweet like I was used to. It was hard and fast and immensely satisfying. “No, it wasn’t quite like that.”
“But it was good.”
“It was amazing,” I admit softly, earning a giant smile from Wendy.
“Knew it.” She munches happily on her salad while I sit and watch her, my appetite having fled a while ago. “Call him. Tell him you want to do it again.”
“No way.” I shake my head, jealous of Wendy’s hearty appetite. I’ve hardly eaten since my night with Archer. He’s all I can think about and it’s so stupid, I don’t know why I’m acting this way. “I don’t want to do it again.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, your smug, short answers are starting to bug,” I say, grabbing my fork and stabbing the lettuce much like I saw Wendy do a moment ago. Damn it, I’m going to eat even if it kills me. “And they’re totally not helping my situation.”
“Well, what are you going to do then? You and Archer Bancroft have a past. A history. There’s tension there and it finally resulted in the two of you having hot, amazing, outrageous sex.”
I don’t answer. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of an acknowledgement.
“Now you’re all mopey and sad. Wishing you could see him. Well, go see him then. Call him up. Greet him with, ‘Hey sexy, let’s do that again.’ See what he says.” Wendy smiles. “I bet he’d take you up on your offer.”
But what if he didn’t. “I would never call him and say something like that.”
“Maybe that’s half your problem.”
I glare at her and she bursts out laughing. “It’s not funny,” I insist.
“I think you like him more than you want to admit, and you don’t know how to deal with it. I’m trying to tell you how to deal.” Wendy offers me a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you need to fess up to your feelings. Why are you acting this way? Is it because you’re disappointed in yourself for doing something so crazy?”
“Partly.” I shrug. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. Why he has me all twisted up in knots.”
“I’ve already told you why,” Wendy says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you contacting him. I’m sure you’re waiting for him to call because that’s your usual MO. Well, guess what. Having a one-night stand with Archer broke your pattern. Calling him will continue to break that pattern. And there’s nothing wrong with doing things a little different.”
Sighing, I stare at my still-full plate. My appetite has completely evaporated. “I was about to tell him that maybe I wanted to see him again, and he called our one night together a mistake. He doesn’t want me, not like that.” I should confess I called it a mistake too, but I can’t. I hate to admit how much it hurt, him saying that. It’s one thing for me to think it, another thing entirely to know he feels the same way.
But do I really feel that way?
No.
“Ah, honey . . .”
I interrupt her. I really don’t want any sympathy. There’s no one to blame for this but me. “Yeah, I might’ve changed up my pattern, but look where it got me? Miserable. Angry at myself for making such a stupid, stupid decision. He’s not the one for me. Not that I ever really thought he was.” I shake my head. “I need to focus on my anger over this.”
“Yeah, you do,” Wendy agrees.
“Not sit around wishing he would call.” Whoops, wish I hadn’t admitted that part.
“Forget him. Screw this guy,” Wendy said vehemently.
“I already did.” I scrunch my lips together.
We stare at each other across the table for a few seconds before we both burst into laughter.
“You sure did,” Wendy says after she gets herself under control, slowly shaking her head as the occasional giggle escapes her.
Yeah. I sure did. What a mistake.
The realization hits me like a swift kick in the ribs. Yet again, I did it. I went after a man who has no intentions to do right by me. Heck, I have no intention of doing right by him. To do so would be utter foolishness. The man is a mess. He’s a complete and utter mess and I have no one to blame but myself for getting involved with him.
I almost want to laugh at my mental choice of words. Involved. As if what we shared contains any sort of involvement beyond the quick and dirty sexual kind.
Archer Bancroft is my ultimate failure. That Humpty Dumpty of a man can never, ever be put back together again. I won’t even bother trying.
Archer
“HEY, WHAT’S UP? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy.” So damn busy I can hardly breathe. Not so busy that I haven’t been thinking of a certain someone constantly. Hence my reason for calling her brother—I’m digging for information. “You make that deal you told me about?”