Page 17 of So Much More
“It’s not my fault you’re taller than the Tin Man. Plus, you can’t do anything to my face anyway.”
“I beg to differ.” He peels me off him, cups my face with his hands, and then leans down and kisses both cheeks, my forehead, my nose, both temples, and my forehead again. Finally, he tilts my head down and kisses the top of it, and then he turns me away from him and gives me a nudge. “Off you go.”
It takes me a few moments to steady my wobbly legs after his onslaught, but then I sway my hips as widely as possible as I walk down the hall. When he laughs and wolf whistles at me, I toss a saucy grin over my shoulder at him. As I unlock my door, he’s still watching me, and I blow him a kiss. He pretends to catch it and throw it into his mouth. I’m giggling again when I step into my apartment.
* * *
“Leslieeeee, where are you?” I say to her answering machine. “Call me the instant you get this!”
After I walked through my door, the first thing I did was curl up on my couch in the spot where Randall always sits, and I grinned at absolutely nothing for several minutes. Then I leapt up, changed into my pajamas, and settled into the easy chair to call Leslie, who has the audacity to not be home.
She’s probably with her boyfriend—kissinghim. Which I wish I was currently doing to mine, although I’m also fully on board with the decision not to. I need a relationship where the man is focused on spending time getting to know me and caring about me as a friend and respecting me a person, instead of my usual nothing-but-physical relationships. It’ll take some getting used to, but it’s what I want and, frankly, what I’ve craved my entire adult life.
Leave it to Randall Hamilton to finally be the man to give me that. I thought—and hoped—he’d be all over me the second we decided to be more than friends, but he surprised me with his decision to hold off on the physical side of our relationship. In a way, I’m jealous of all the women who came before me who didn’t have to wait. But at the same time, I feel special that he wants more with me than he ever has with any other woman and that he’s willing to make sacrifices in order for that happen.
Brrring!
I snatch up the phone. “Leslie?”
“No, it’s your mother.”
“Oh. Hi, Mom.”
“Try not to sound so excited to talk to me,” she teases.
“Sorry. I was expecting a call from Leslie. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you back last night. I didn’t get your message until it was too late to call, and today has been a little crazy. What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Not exactly. I got a call from your father two nights ago. To clarify, I’m talking about Jack—the father you haven’t heard from in ten years, not your dad who loves you more than life itself. Jack would have called you, but he didn’t have your number. I refused to give it to him, which meant he was forced to tell me why he wanted to talk to you after all these years. He has some news, but this isn’t anything I want to tell you over the phone. Can I drive down tomorrow and see you? Or do you have plans after work?”
“You can always come visit, but I’m not going to be able to focus on anything until I know what you’re going to say. Please tell me now.”
“Okay.” She takes an audible breath. “Jack recently found out he has another daughter who’s twenty-eight, and he wanted you to know you have a sister.”
If I weren’t already sitting down, I’d be falling down in shock. A swirl of emotions rushes through me: rage that my father obviously cheated on my mom during the short time they were married, elation that I have a sister, anxiety about what I’m supposed to do with this information, and disappointment that I didn’t know about her until now.
“Wendy, honey, are you still there?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m here. I’m trying to process.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and it would have been so much better to tell you this in person. I should have just driven down and surprised you.”
“That’s all right.”
“It’s really not. I’m sorry I messed this up and now you’re down there all alone to try to deal with this.”
“I’ve got Leslie.” And Randall, but this isn’t the best time to tell her about him.
“Yes, but I still wish I was there. I also need to tell you that this sister is going to be in Chicago this weekend and would like to meet you.”
“Oh, wow.” It’s Wednesday, so the weekend isn’t very far away.
“You don’t have to meet her.”
“I think I’ll want to, but that’s really soon. Where does she live?” Maybe she’s close enough I could drive to see her in a few weeks or months after I fully get used to the idea.
“Little Rock.”
“Arkansas?”
