A few minutes later, another text from her came through:Did you get my envelope?
Me:I did. Thank you. It means more to me than I can say.
Delia:the key or the note?
Me:Both. The key for what it represents: your trust. And the note because, well…that’s what prompted the realization that I’ve never cared whether people like me, and that I care that you do. It was a pretty big epiphany, tbh.
A few minutes go by, and then a text:Thai? I miss you too. The presentation is wrapping up, so I’m gonna have to go. A couple more to sit through, then the stupid dinner, and then I’m done.
Me:okay. I’ll let you pay attention, then.
Delia:I probably should, huh? I paid money to be here so I may as well TRY and get something from it, other than a sore butt from sitting on these godawful hard chairs and some cheap swag.
Me:I’ll give you a massage when you get home.
Delia:a butt massage?
Me:Hell yeah. Your butt is one of my favorite physical attributes. Didn’t you know?
Delia:Weird. When I say I run my ass off every morning, I’m speaking out of hope that I actually will run my ass a size or two smaller. But I’m glad you like it. I grew it myself lol*crying laughing emoji*
Me:When I say it’s my favorite physical attribute, what I mean is first among equals. I like all of you equally. But your ass is particularly amazing. And now I’m thinking about your ass, and massaging it.
Delia:With your hands?*winking emoji*
Me:With whatever part of me you’ll allow near you.
Delia:Allow? Try demand.
Delia:Okay, got to go. I’ll see you in a few hours. Thanks for making my Sunday a little better. Or a lot better. Bye for now!
She leaves me on that note? FRUSTRATION!
Demand?
She’lldemandmy body near her? Be still my beating heart.
Be still my beatingeverything.
Is this my life?This, with Delia McKenna? I would not have believed it, not all that long ago.
I wonder if she thinks I’m going to be actually asleep when she gets here. Like I could possibly sleep. I’m not going to push anything because after the weekend she’s had I imagine she’ll need to just relax and crash.
Chapter Twenty
Delia
God,I’m tired.
I never sleep well anywhere but my own bed, and this stupid convention starts at 8 a.m. every morning which means if I want to run and get breakfast, I have to be up at ass crack of dawn. And then the presentations go till dinner and then there’s the dinner shitshow which always gets dragged out into a cocktail hour that lasts several hours, in which there’s always at least one drunk guy trying to get in my pants. And all I want to do is go home.
Home, to River Gulch.
Home, to Thai.
Weird, how quickly he’s infiltrated my life. How quickly I’ve grown used to him being around.
The flight is uneventful. I brought a book to read, but when I’ve read the same page a dozen times and remember nothing, I give up. My mind is not on the book, as good as it is—even those sexy Alaskan brothers can’t hold my attention, right now.
