Page 191 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
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“Where the hell is he?” I asked Sir Licks-a-Lot, who was sitting on top of the armrest of the couch, picking something out of his nail with his teeth. The sound was revolting, causing my stomach to roll. Lately, it felt like everything was upsetting my stomach and the only cure was Henry.
It was hard to cure myself, though, when he hadn’t come home yet.
It was nine o’clock, and not even a text message or a call. Mind you, I’d sent him about eight annoying girlfriend messages, and I’d called him twice, well, twice on his work phone and twice on his cell phone.
Nothing.
Not even a “Hey, love, I’ll be home in an hour.”
If the universe didn’t want humans to communicate with each other at the drop of a pin, cell phones wouldn’t have been invented.
Being the creepy stalker I was, I checked my phone to find his location. Yes, we were those people who could locate each other by clicking on an app on our phone. According to my phone, he was still at work. Did he plan on staying all night?
Frustrated, I called Delaney to bitch to her. She answered on the third ring.
“How did the stripper auditions go today?”
I rolled my eyes. I forgot she made the appointment.
“Just great, picked out a real stud for you and embarrassed myself while doing so.”
“Did you poke his peen?” Delaney asked with sorrow in her voice, as if it was something I would actually do.
“No, I did not poke his peen. I called him man balls, though.”
“Oh, I like the sound of this. Does he have giant balls? Please tell me they are two grapefruits waiting to suffocate me.”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” I wasn’t in the mood to go into detail. I was annoyed, irritated, and sexually frustrated. I wasn’t one to take things into my own hands, but right now, I thought about grabbing the stupid bullet and giving myself a quickie, a little twiddle-diddle.
“You sound crabby. What’s got your underwear twisted in a knot?”
“I want sex,” I shouted, scaring Sir Licks-a-Lot. Satisfaction ran through me until he made thatI’m going to pukenoise and arched his back. In seconds, he puked up a claw chunk and hairball masterpiece, right on my purse. Like the bastard he was, he smiled at me and took off.
I kicked a couch pillow across the room out of frustration.
“Okay,” Delaney said. “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend right now?”
“You would think.” I started to pace the length of our living room. “But he’s not home. He’s still at work. I feel like for the past week that’s all he’s been doing, working. We haven’t had sex in a really long time. I’m concerned.” No. I was more than concerned. I was upset. I was horny. I was . . . fretting.
“What’s a really long time? Because according to what Henry told Derk, you two have been sexing it up about three times a day. Isn’t your pussy raw, Rosie?”
“Don’t say that. Gross.” Virginia was holding up fine, except for the possibility that I still felt she was allergic to Henry’s Poseidon.
“Okay, so what’s a long time for you two? Ten hours?”
I wished it was ten hours. I was ashamed to say, because we’d never gone so long . . . ever.
“Four days,” I said sheepishly.
Delaney was silent. Seconds ticked by as I waited with bated breath for her response. Was she thinking what I was thinking? Was Henry cheating on me?
“Say something,” I cried, not able to take the silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so confused. Four days is like four months for you guys. Have you been initiating and he’s turning you down or vice versa?”
“I’ve been initiating. He is always so busy or tired from work. That’s all he’s been doing—working.” I took a deep breath before saying what had been on my mind. “Do you think he’s cheating on me, Delaney?”
