This wasn’t jealousy. It was something else. It was fear that she didn’t trust me as much as I trusted her, that she was still holding me at arm’s length and the rest of it was a fantasy in my head.

I was in the middle of raking my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time when there was knock on my front door.

I flung the door open without stopping to check it was her. It was a good thing it was because I was standing there in nothing but my underwear, probably reeking of booze and grinning like a fool.

“Hi. How was your date?” I sounded tipsy even to my own ears.

She assessed me with eyes that missed nothing, then steered me into the kitchen and pushed me down on a barstool.

She started clattering around the kitchen. “My dinner was good. I would ask how yours was, but it appears you had a liquid dinner…”

She set a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of water in front of me.

I mumbled, “You made me a sandwich. Sometimes I think you care.”

“Of course I care, you silly man.” She perched on my lap and fed me bites, making sure I drank the water too.

“Mmm, now what do I get for dessert?” I kissed along her shoulder, slowly working my hand up her thigh, under her skirt but over her panties. “Your panties are soaked. Were you thinking about me at your dinner? Or was it your mystery date that got you worked up?” I meant for it to sound teasing, but it came out sounding insecure. Drinking was a bad idea when I was feeling this raw.

Dammit, I wasn’t this guy. I was in knots and couldn’t even find the words to explain the real issue. Maybe I didn’t want to because I was scared of what she’d say.

She snatched my hand away, but held on to it. “You’ve been drinking, so I’ll let that slide precisely once. The jealousy is not a good look. I had dinner with Victoria. I needed to chat with her about my schedule since I go back to work in a week and had some stuff I wanted to discuss with her.”

“I’m sorry,” I said gravely, shaking my head. “I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Then don’t be that guy. Be my guy. The one who got off watching me with someone else a few days ago.”

I groaned and nuzzled her neck, sliding my hand back under her skirt.

She slid off my lap. “Oh no you don’t, Mister. You’re going to bed.”

“Mmm…we can go to bed if you want.”

“No, drunkie. You’re going to bed and sleeping it off. I’m sober and not having sex with you when you’re buzzed.”

“You don’t have sex with me when I’m sober.”

“You know what I mean. Come on.”

Once we were both ready for bed, we climbed under the covers, finding each other in the dark.