Carter opens the door and then turns back to me before walking out.
“Oh and don’t you forget that my parents are coming in this weekend from Columbus. I can’t wait for you to finally meet them!”
I close the door behind him and lean my back against it.
“Yay. Meeting the in-laws,” I cheer to myself in a completely non-cheery way.
5. Suck for a Buck
Friday night is finally here and the work week is over. Not that I really have anything to complain about in that regard. I own my own business (someone pinch me!), and every moment I spend in the shop makes me happy. But even when you love what you do, it’s still nice to forget about it for a few hours.
The minor freak-outs about Carter are pushed to the back of my mind since everything has been so perfect between us the last couple of days. He doesn’t jump when I walk into the room anymore, and he isn’t whispering on the phone when I get out of the shower. A normal woman would probably suspect cheating, but not me. I had already followed him a few times and checked his text messages.
Seriously. Don’t judge me.
Gavin is spending the night at my dad’s house, so as soon as I get home from work, I pack his overnight bag and then got ready for the party. I still haven’t stopped thanking Liz after she informed me that she didn’t want a traditional bachelorette party where a group of girls get in a limo and go to a strip club.
Thank God.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for getting liquored up and heading to a female strip club, but a male one? That’s just gross. Have you been to an all male strip club before? These oily, long-haired, jacked up on steroid men come prancing out in banana hammocks, thrust their hips in your face, and dry hump your leg. It’s disgusting. Have you ever had a sweaty man you don’t know rub his penis on your knee? It makes me throw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it. And let’s be honest here, the penis – not the prettiest thing in the world to look at. If it’s some guy who calls himself the Italian Stallion, wearing a Speedo with the Italian flag on it, dancing to the theme song from 'The Jersey Shore', while he has one foot up on your knee and hip thrusts his dangling... Okay, I’m just going to stop myself right there before Carter finds me curled up in the fetal position in the corner mumbling about Italian penis, and he thinks I’m saying “penne” and doesn’t understand why pasta is making me cry.
As I was saying, Liz doesn’t want any of that. She wants to rent a nice limo bus and go to a few local wineries. I’m pretty sure the evening will still include inappropriate behavior, but at least it won’t also include ruining a man’s self esteem by pointing and laughing at his junk. Unless of course Drew decides to get naked for some reason. I can’t be responsible for my actions at that point and it won’t be my fault of he cries.
Once Carter and I are dressed and ready to go, we placed Gavin in the car and head over to my dad’s to drop him off.
When we stop at a red light, Carter takes one hand off of the wheel and places it on the inside of my bare thigh.
“You wore that short skirt just to torture me, didn’t you?” Carter asks softly so Gavin won’t hear him from the backseat.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say with a smirk as I cross my legs. The movement forced his warm hand higher up my thigh and his fingers graze just under the hem of the tattered jean skirt material.
I'm not lying when I say I kind of enjoy the fact that Carter and I work opposite shifts. I like the peace and quiet during the week and spending alone time with Gavin. It makes the adjustment from being a single mother to living with the father of my child not so bad. I had spent so many years on my own and having my son all to myself, it was nice we weren’t thrust right into something that was a complete one-eighty from what we were used to. Even so, it doesn’t stop me from missing Carter during the week.
Or more specifically, missing having sex with Carter during the week.
When you have sex once, get pregnant, and then go years before you ever have it again and when you do have it again, it’s mind-blowing and delicious and better than finding a pot of gold, a unicorn, and a leprechaun who shits diamonds at the end of a rainbow, having to wait a whole week in between having this wonderful sex is torture. Just having Carter’s hand on my leg puts all sorts of dirty thoughts in my head - thoughts that have no business being there when our son was in the backseat.
“I think you and I are going to need to make an important phone call tonight,” Carter says with a wag of his eyebrows.
I laugh, remembering the first time we had sex again after the night he took my virginity at the frat party.
When Gavin had knocked on the bedroom door right at the tail end of our reunion (emphasis on union) and then asked us what we were up to, in a panic I told him we were making phone calls. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
I place my hand on top of Carter’s and slide it just a little bit further under the edge of my skirt.
“You missed a lot of phone calls this week while you were at work. I had to take care of them on my own. My phone has a dead battery now,” I tease him.
“Did you record these phone calls? That’s something I’d like to listen to,” he says with a wink before turning his focus back to the road as the light turns green.
“Sorry, the answering machine doesn’t have a battery either,” I joke.
“Probably because you took the batteries out of every single major appliance in a five-mile-radius and put them in your phone,” Carter replies with a sneer.