The same could be said about a picture from RB.

I can’t deny the bath photo ignites me, however. I want to be in there with her, pulling her onto my lap to see how well we fit together. Her damp hair clinging to my skin like a persistent weed, strands of blonde latching on and never letting go.

What is this woman going to do to me when I actually see her? Kill me with a single piercing look? Have me dropping to my knees, ready to beg and bend to her every ask and demand?

“It’s her in a bubble bath and all I can see are her feet.”

“That made you excited?” Neil scoffs.

“For fuck’s sake, not all of us have a fiancé at home who can give us a blow job whenever we ask,” I snap. “It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I’m a little wound up.”

“I’ll say,” Jack mutters. “I like Getting Laid Every Night Henry better.”

“How long is a while?”

“Three weeks. Almost four.”

Since RB’s first email.

Since I felt a strong, noticeable presence lodge in my chest and refuse to leave, taking up a permeant residence after the very first question I asked.

Since a swarm of butterflies fluttered in my stomach, an excitement going through me with every flash of her name across my phone.

An amount of time that’s seemed infinite but has also passed in the blink of an eye.

When I talk to her, I don’t measure it in seconds and minutes and hours and days like I would with anyone else. I measure it in smiles. Laughs. Late nights. Early mornings. Dreams. Hopes. Fears. Sunflowers. Zebra Cakes. My lips tug upward at the mere thought of her.

When I talk to her, problems and irritations and all the other negative things in the world cease to exist.

When I talk to her, nothing else matters.

When I talk to her, I’m… home.

“Holy shit. You didn’t hook up with that waitress?” Neil asks.

“Nope.”

“No one from a bar?”

“No.”

“You’re never like this,” Jack observes. “She must be special.”

I don’t think special is even close to what she is.

“You keep glaring at your phone, hoping it lights up,” Patrick adds.

“He also smiles, too,” Noah sings, pinching my cheek. “Our little Henry, all grown up and in love.”

“Have we all gotten our jokes out? Good. In all seriousness, Hen, are you going to go through with this?” Patrick asks, and all eyes are on me.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Is your mom excited?”

“She’s ecstatic, but I’m terrified she’s going to see right through this charade and call us out.”

“I so wish I could be there to see her reaction,” Noah groans. “Damn work trip.”