“I’m sorry,” I offer weakly. And I am. It hurts still, having the memory of his body holding mine so fresh, but she’s right. I’m grieving him as if he won’t ever come back.
“Go get a shower and you can get your ass to work today so I don’t have to deal with Sway going nuts over you missing another filming day.”
I nod my head and climb out of the bed. When I go to pull off Cohen’s shirt, I look over my shoulder to where she is standing. Maddi and Lila must have dipped out the door while we were talking. She raises one of her black, perfectly sculpted brows and looks down at my hand on the hem. I narrow my eyes and instantly decide that this shirt—and the others I’m sure she doesn’t know about yet—will be hidden well.
And I’m not even ashamed of the smile I have when I drop some of Cohen’s body wash on my loofa and start to get lost in the memories.
Memories that will keep me going long after he comes home.
Yeah . . . totally normal.
Ten hours of hell later, I’m ready to kill someone. I’m missing Cohen terribly, but that feeling was exasperated tenfold by Devon, his two idiots, and—God love him—Sway.
Devon wanted to know when “the romantic drama hunk” was coming in next, which was brought up when it was clear there wouldn’t be anything show-worthy happening in the salon today. Lyn went nuts and threw one of her eye shadow pallets at him.
Devon’s “assistants”—and I use that word loosely because I haven’t seen them actually assist with anything—wouldn’t stop being icky. The short one actually picked his nose, twice, and the second time almost had me throwing up my lunch when I saw him eat it. Then the other one . . . I can’t put my finger on exactly what about him I don’t like—but it’s there. And his openly staring at every female in the room doesn’t exactly give him any checks in the pro side.
And then Sway.
I might actually kill him.
I was in the back mixing some color for Jenna Nixon’s pink touch-up when he came up behind me and tried to measure my bust. Like, full-on threw one of those measuring tape things around my body and told me to stop wiggling so he knew what size he needed to order for burlesque day at the salon.
I do not fucking think so.
And okay, I might have been a little overdramatic when I elbowed him in the stomach, but he crossed a line with the measuring tape.
Needless to say by the time the workday was over, I was more than ready to call it a night. If I’m this bad after just three days, I hate to think what I’ll feel like as more pass.
And it’s with that thought that I find it.
I find the reason I need to solidify that strength I need. A reason to smile again.
I’m not sure how I missed it earlier, but I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind the morning he left—or each day after for that matter—so it makes sense that I didn’t see it before. Tucked in one of the side pockets of my purse is a white envelope, sealed, with my name scrawled in masculine writing on the outside.
Not just my name.
The name only one person calls me.
My chin wobbles when I hold the letter that Cohen must have tucked in there at some point the night before he left. Part of me wants to rip into it and devour each word. But the sensible part of me wants to savor each word knowing that these are going to be the words I need to keep me going.
Dani-girl—my sweet Dani-girl.
You have no idea how long I’ve been watching you sleep. I feel like, if I stare at you for the rest of the night, it might be enough to last me until I came home, but even as I write this down, I know it wasn’t enough.
It’s funny how I’ve lasted almost twenty-six years without knowing what it felt like to have you in my arms. I’ve had your naked body against mine for one night and I know it was a feeling that I will struggle to be without. I don’t know a better way to explain it other than it just felt like you were always meant to be there.
My dad used to tell me that your father used to get so pissed when we were kids because wherever I went, you weren’t far behind, and whenever we were in the same room, I was always watching you. He told me once that, even back then, it was like we had some invisible cord pulling us together. I don’t think I understood it until last night. I’ve always used excuse after excuse to push the feelings I had for you aside.
Anyway, my point is, while I was sitting here in the dark, watching you sleep, it hit me how much it’s going to rip me in two when I have to walk away from you in the morning. Seeing you in my bed, sated and flushed from just taking you again, will be something I think about for nights to come.