Page 116 - Interior_SPRING SUMMER FALLING_2021

116 | FRANCESCA PE NN

A pleasant scent greets me at our home. She calls it “Warm Amber Rose” – it smells
soft and pretty, like Sanya. I hang my keys in their spot and place my shoes on the
rack. I’m in the middle of removing my tie when I find her. Sanya is wrapped up
on the chaise side of the sofa just like I’d imagined when I first moved into her
home. She’s watching another Hallmark Channel movie. She is a sucker for sweet
romances. Her hair is the same; it still falls in soft waves around her shoulders and
down her back. She’s wearing a red wrap similar to the one she wore on the beach.
My body tightens at the memory and increases my frustration.
“You’re back early.” Concern etches her features. “Did you have a reaction to

drinking again?” Her genuine sweetness warms me and melts some of my
frustration.
“No.” She watches my tie slide off my collar. “I’m stone sober. I’m not sure
when I’ll drink again.”
Her gaze roams up my neck to my eyes. “I understand.”
“Look, I’m going to take a shower.” She nods somewhat sadly. “Want me to
join you after?”
She brightens up. “Yes, please.”

I return shortly after my shower still unsure how to bring up our sexual
Mexican Standoff. If it were any other woman, I’d tell her I want her and move on
from there, but Sanya gives me pause. I have a real fear of running her off. What if
she only wanted a vacation fling? It would explain the sudden change back to her
demurer self.
She pats the chaise side she’d just vacated urging me to sit. I settle in with my
back against the rest and my legs casually stretched out. My mind reels when she
straddles me. It’s unexpected, yet this is the closest we’ve been since we’ve returned
home. Her position isn’t sexual; her butt is practically on my knees. It is a position
that screams, “Pay attention to me.”
“I want to talk,” she cautions. “Usually, I’d have these sorts of conversations
with Chanel, my female bestie, but she is in the new-man-who-dis stage or the new-
man-rabbit stage…”