I gave him blank eyes. “Everything?”
He shook his head. “No. Too broad. You have to be specific with your sins if you expect them to be forgiven. It helps to convince a woman you won’t do it again if you understand what you did wrong. Try again.”
I swallowed. “This is important?” I asked.
He nodded emphatically. “The most important. If you learn nothing else from me, be specific in your groveling, but then go broad. Cover that shit until it smells like roses.”
I tilted my head, thinking it through. “Okay ... I’m sorry that I tried to rip off your panties, and I’m SO sorry that we were interrupted. I especially regret that it was your sister, who went off like a Roman candle. I’d love to get together again soon. Without the bitchy sister or panty disaster.”
Jimmy winced. “Less about the bitchy sister, and more how you regret that you were lost in the moment. Lean into how sexy she was and how you didn’t immediately hear that she wasn’t into it. You’ll NEVER do that again. Got it?”
I sighed. “Never again. Now, let’s hope she’s willing to give me another chance.”
“Excellent. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to add a gesture of sincerity or start the groveling early and often.”
“Early?” I asked. “I thought you wanted me to give her space first?”
“Yeah, but you really screwed up. Hearing you say it aloud again underscored that. Maybe try to woo her with a puppy dog meme or something tonight before reopening communication tomorrow.”
I tried to look more confident than I felt. “Got it. Thanks, Jimmy. I appreciate the advice.”
He gave me a one-armed hug, then placed his empty beer bottle on the counter. “No problem. That’s what friends are for; to help you clean up. Good luck to you. I hate to say it, but you’re going to need it. I hope Tamra is the forgiving type.”
I let my eyes go unfocused, picturing her face as she told me to get lost. “Me, too.”
Visualizing her face made me close my eyes and try to wipe the image of our last few moments when she told me to leave from my brain. Things had been going so well, before. Before. I could only hope there’d be an after. Maybe a happily ever after was too much to hope for, but something about her tantalized. I couldn’t lose her. She deserved a real hero. As much as the thought of trying to be that man for her scared me, I had to try.
Jimmy left, and I scoured the internet until I found an appropriate meme for the occasion. Maybe there was no such thing, but I had to try.
Chase: <Meme of Shrek’s Puss in Boots looking pitiful> I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. Please forgive me.
I waited for a few minutes while I brushed my teeth, but there was no response from Tamra. With a sigh, I turned off my light and tried to calm my mind so I could fall asleep.
Visions of our passionate interlude in the kitchen made my pulse race and heat pool in my groin. At my most vivid and poetic, I couldn’t do Tamra justice on the page. Nothing about writing had prepared me for the power of my desire for her. Her skin was so soft. Silky. The arch of her shoulder had been seductive. I hadn’t devoted nearly enough prose to describing the shadows and valleys of her spine. Picturing every curve had me shifting restlessly beneath the sheets, stiff with desire. Remembering her as I’d last seen her, rigid and near tears after her sister’s tirade, washed away the erotic images. Now a different organ was aching. I had to make it up to her.
Chapter 23 - Tamra
The steady drum in my temples made me wince when I woke on Sunday. Should I have drunk more last night or less? Possibly knocked myself out by running against a wall? Skipped the wedding and gone to dance class instead? Just my luck that it was also that time of the month for a hormonal migraine. Worse luck would have been to have it yesterday, but maybe missing the wedding wouldn’t have been so terrible given how things ended.
I groaned as I thought more about the wedding debacles. Yes. Debacles—plural. Nausea roiled my stomach. Migraine or toxic stew of shame and regret—take your pick. I swallowed my migraine meds, then lay back on my bed, waiting for the sweet relief to kick in. It sucked to be incapacitated, but if I got up and started moving around, I’d be too nauseated to do anything much anyway.
After my headache calmed down, I reached for my phone to see that I’d missed text messages from family, friends, and Chase. Chase. I ignored the alerts without opening any of them.
His friendly favor, accompanying me to the wedding, had felt all too romantic and real when we moved into the kitchen. Those first few minutes, enthralled in the fantasy he wove with his words, were magic. However, it had gone sharply downhill even before Jennifer appeared. Chase had missed a big, fat, freaking negative response to his first attempt at ripping off my underwear. Could I be with a guy so distracted by fantasy that he failed to pay attention to me?
Jennifer’s appearance and my lack of backbone at her censure still mortified me. I cringed every time I remembered her unkind words. I’d stood there and just taken it, like an invisible nothing. My freezing up bothered me more than Jennifer’s actual words. I kept reliving the conversation over and over in my head, with me reacting differently each time. In almost all of them I managed to push back and stand up for myself. If only one of my replays were reality.
It wasn’t the first time I’d wished for a conversation re-do, but like so many times before, I knew I couldn’t change the past. The best I could hope for was that I’d be able to
