“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I grab the remote and turn the sound off. “I’ll be back with blankets and pillows in a minute.”
“Thanks,” he says as he drops down onto the couch. He rolls a shoulder and lifts his arm a little like he’s trying to work a kink out.
I stare at that arm for a moment too long and he doesn’t miss it. His eyes meet mine as I drag them from his muscles, full of heat. I’m sure mine contain the same level of heat. They sure as heck feel hot.
Girl.
Get your shit together.
Celibacy, remember?
Right.
I spin on my heel and run up the stairs to find bedding.
I’ve gathered a blanket and pillow and am about to go back downstairs when my bestie texts me. I know it’s her by the custom text tone of ‘Bitch’ in her voice that I created one night when she was giving me hell over shit I’d put up with from Heath.
Morticia: I can’t sleep, and I can see you just got home. Yes, I’m stalking you because that’s what a girl does when her bestie FINALLY comes home after years in the wilderness.
Being the computer geek I am, I’ve set our phones up so we can track each other. A girl can’t be too safe these days. My BFF takes it to the extreme.
Me: It was hardly years.
Morticia: IT FELT LIKE YEARS.
Me: I love you, Lil, but you’re dramatic as fuck.
Morticia: What are you doing?
Me: About to go to sleep. After I deal with the guy who is currently sitting on my couch waiting for me to bring him blankets.
Morticia: You picked a guy up? And you’re making him sleep on the couch? I feel so confused right now. I thought you were working tonight.
Me: I was working. He’s part of my work. It’s a long story why he’s here. I’ll fill you in after I get some sleep.
She doesn’t come back to me with another text, so I shove my phone back in my pocket and go downstairs to Colt while thinking about how much I’ve missed Lilith over the last six months.
My own little Morticia Addams, Lilith has been my best friend since we were thirteen. I turned up on the first day of grade nine, a new student to the school, and Lilith took me under her wing when the other kids judged me for my dreadlocked hair and hippy accessories. They also made fun of my name, but that was something I was used to after thirteen years of it.
We bonded over our weird parents, our love for 80’s and 90’s movies (mostly Pretty Woman), and also our love for photography and art. We had each other’s back all through high school and still have it. Life without Lilith isn’t something I ever want to contemplate, and I know she feels the same. She tells me often enough for me to know this deeply. Our openness with each other and willingness to lay every part of our soul out is the core of our friendship. I didn’t understand this fully until my marriage broke up and Lilith was there for me in a way only my mother had ever been there for me. Soul sisters are a real thing; Lilith is mine.
“Thanks,” Colt says when I give him the blanket and pillow.
I eye his chest.
His naked chest.
His chest that now has no clothes covering it.
A heavily tattooed chest that matches his heavily tattooed arm. Colt has one arm still bare of any ink, but by the looks of the rest of his skin, I’d say he’ll start working on it soon.
“You work out a lot, huh?” I say.
“A little.”
I meet his gaze and find his brown eyes watching me with a hint of a smile. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man who’s as easy to be with. Like, I don’t think Colt even has to utter a word for me to feel comfortable in his presence. I just do.
Returning that smile, I say, “I don’t think a little covers it. Not from what I’m seeing.” I run my gaze over the bruises on his skin. “I’m gonna grab you an ice pack for those bruises.”
I head into the kitchen and when I bring it back to him, he says, “You ever almost kill anyone with those nails?”
I glance at my nails. I’ve had acrylics for about five years now. My current preference is almond shaped nails, the longer the better. I also prefer them with as much bling as possible. Lilith shudders at all the glitter and glam I add to them. “I’ve not thought of them as weapons, but you’re right, they could be.”
“There’s no could about it. They fucking are.”
I laugh, and it hits me that while laughter is almost foreign to me these days, thanks to the shitty year I’ve had, I’ve laughed more than once tonight. It feels good. “Well, make sure you remember that I have them on me at all times and that I’m not afraid to use a weapon when needed.”
“Trust me, I’ve already filed that piece of information away.”
I’m about to reply to that when my phone sounds with another text. Pulling it from my pocket, I note it’s not from Lilith as I suspected, but from another friend, Sara. Not that I use the word ‘friend’ to describe her anymore. She falls completely into the group of people I used to be close to until my husband’s betrayals sledgehammered my life. Sara is one of the people who showed their true, shallow colours.
Sara: I know you’re not on Instagram so you won’t see this. Thought you should.
I stare at a photo of Heath and Joanne, another woman I once thought was a valued friend. It turned out she wasn’t. She just wanted to get close to my husband and all he could offer. In this photo, he’s standing behind her with his arms around her. That isn’t anything new to me. The thing that is new to me and is a really big fucking blow to my heart, is the baby bump she’s sporting and the way one of his hands rests protectively on her stomach in a very ‘this is my baby in here’ manner. That’s the thing Sara thought I should see.
“You fucking bitch,” I mutter and stab out a text to Lilith.
Me: Look at this shit.
I forward her the photo.
Morticia: Where did you get that?
Me: Sara.
Morticia: I fucking hate that bitch. You need to block her. And Jesus, when is she gonna grow up and stop partying all night, every night, and stalking Instagram while she’s doing that?
Me: Yes, but can we just talk about the fact Joanne is pregnant? Like, WTF???
Morticia: You know my stance on J guys. Nothing good ever comes from them. I feel like while Joanne is a girl, she falls under the J guy category.
Lilith has a long history of bad experiences with guys whose names all started with the letter J. John, Jamie, and Jacob. She’s put way too much thought into the whole J name thing, and was a little too excited (for Lilith, who never gets excited over anything) to show me this J guy name thing is an actual thing. “It’s even on Urban Dictionary,” she proudly proclaimed one Friday night, like Urban Dictionary is the ultimate source of all worthwhile knowledge. So unlike Lilith, and yet it showed just how much these assholes have fucked her up. I swear, if I run into John, Jamie, or Jacob, they better fucking watch out.
Me: He said he didn’t fucking want kids.
Morticia: Right, we’re focussing on that rather than the J thing. Gotcha.
Me: Honestly, I might just get in my car and go bang on his goddam door right now and tell him what I think of him.
Morticia: Calm down, sissy. I’m coming over.
Me: It’s late.
Morticia: It’s not. Besides, I’m already on my way. Put the coffee machine on.