Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 39

We continued having sex on a weekly basis, eventually having planned nights together, arranged around both our schedules.  There were also nights I learned not to call, particularly Friday and Saturday, because, well…because Justin liked the company of women.  But he’d never told me I couldn’t call—I just tried not to.  I also knew that he didn’t divulge to his dates that he and I had an arrangement and, on the rare occasions when he struck out, he could always call.  It was perfect.

Or so I’d thought.  Now I wasn’t so sure.  While we’d never laid out rules or limits, I’d encouraged his behavior.  At first, I was positive I wouldn’t fall for him.  Sure, he was good looking, charming, and fun, but I still felt the sting of an abusive relationship as well as the pain of being dumped by my first real love, just before I’d found out I was carrying his baby.  The last thing I fucking needed was a man.

But now, looking back, I could see exactly how things had progressed.  In February, I’d gotten on the patch for birth control.  Because we were having sex regularly, I wanted the extra protection.  I didn’t worry about STDs because Justin was religious using protection—and, as far as I knew, I was his only regular partner.

Emotions, though, made me stupid.

One night, I was licking his cock and he told me he wanted to be inside me.  He was even reaching for a condom when I whispered, “Let’s not, okay?”

“Not use a rubber?  You crazy?  You wanna get pregnant?”

“Not really.  But that’s taken care of.”

“You’re on birth control?”

“Yeah.  And I don’t have any diseases or anything I could give you.”

“I’m safe, too, sugar.  But that’s not a good idea.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I want to feel the real you inside me, not some piece of latex holding you back.”

I told myself the sex was better without it.  It was more passioned, our emotions heightened. I felt happier.  How could that have been?

And now I knew all of that, all that bullshit, was a bad move on my part.  Everything I’d done had made me fall hard for him.

The misery I felt was all my fault.  I’d said I didn’t want anything serious and had been an easy lay for him anytime he wanted.  I had been the one intensifying the relationship while allowing the cuffs on exclusivity or commitment.  What an idiot I’d been, because somewhere along the way, I’d started to care.  And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been warning signs.  Once or twice, I’d started to feel jealous of someone else in his life, and then I’d reminded myself of our agreement and backed off, actually telling myself I was happy that way.  Besides, he never stayed with any of the other women.  And why would I want to feel obligated to him?  Not that I had any other men I was interested in, but I didn’t want a committed relationship again—and that was why I kept telling myself I was content with what Justin and I had.  I needed nothing more.

As I finally started drifting off sometime after three in the morning, I concluded that maybe I, too, needed therapy.

* * *

The next morning, exhausted and grateful to the soul who’d thought eons ago to create concealer, I walked into the middle school, ready for coffee and a serious discussion about my daughter with the counselor.  As I entered Kevin Campbell’s office, he looked up from his computer screen just as he had earlier that week.  “Hi, Randi.  I’m so glad we could do this.”

“Me, too.”

Standing, he removed his glasses, setting them on his desk.  “Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

Once we were in the hallway, he said, “Just give me a second.  I need to pop in the office and let them know I’ll be gone for a while.”  In mere seconds, he returned and held one of the doors exiting the building open for me.  “We can take my car,” he offered and I accepted, and he drove through town, passing one small coffee shop after another.  Of course, it was just as well.  I didn’t know that I could afford Starbucks or any of the local shops with the more expensive stuff that I didn’t drink anyway.

As he made his way through the few traffic lights in town and chatted about the weather, I remembered that I’d been thinking the other day that he was kind of good looking—and that, of course, led me to glance at his left hand on the steering wheel.  No wedding ring.  I’d been getting the vague notion that he was interested—but that was probably all in my fucked-up head.  I sensed that I needed to find a way to transition myself away from Justin, and so, of course, I was grasping at straws.  Not that I wanted or needed anything serious.  Bad enough that I’d been getting there with Justin.  Jesus.

Besides, Randi, you’re here to talk about your kid.  Don’t fucking forget it.

Soon, he parked at a diner that I thought I’d maybe been to once as a child near the outskirts of town.  As we got out of his car and headed inside, I pulled my jacket closer, feeling the chill created by overcast skies, a premonition of what autumn had in store for us.  Following him to a small booth in the back, I took the menu he handed to me as he said, “No mocha lattes here.  Sorry about that—but it’s a lot quieter than the Coffee Stop, and Starbucks has been ridiculously crowded since it opened.”

“That’s okay.  I’m not much for fancy coffee.  I figure if it tastes like cereal, they’re doing it wrong.”

He laughed at my lame joke—a little too hard.

Our waitress was a thin, tall young lady with blue pigtails.  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”  The enthusiasm in her voice made me actually believe it.

Kevin said, “Hi there, Daisy.  This is my friend Randi, and I