Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

The next day, when my alarm went off, I groaned, but pushed away from my desk. Breaking my flow hurt, but losing Tamra ached. I moved into the kitchen to make Tamra’s feast and package it. The cold pork tenderloin and peanut ginger slaw made my mouth water.

Food, loyalty, listening, and orgasms. The four keys to relationship success. I had the food and loyalty down pat. Two out of four wasn’t a bad start. But would it be enough? It was hard to show her the others if she wasn’t talking to me.

I dropped off the cooler at her place and puttered around my apartment to see if there’d be a response. Writing held no appeal when Tamra was on the line. Finally, she responded. It just wasn’t the reply I was hoping for.

Tamra: Stop with the food and gifts. No more, please.

Question asked and answered: my efforts had not been enough. Every muscle in my chest tightened, until I fought for each breath around the constriction. My eyes watered with the effort.

I’d tried. I’d failed. And lost the only woman in years who mattered. The kindest, the funniest, the one most likely to be my match. Lost. Because I’d let myself become consumed by work. No limits. No balance.

I stared at my laptop and pushed air in and out of my lungs. Opening it would be a welcome escape. Surrendering to the soothing nature of the familiar. Work. It was always there.

My hands clenched, and I glanced away. No. Tamra might not forgive me, but if I wanted more in my life, I couldn’t give up. Becoming a better version of myself meant nothing if I let it go so easily.

Chapter 26 - Tamra

I’d been pretty successful at putting Chase out of mind for the last few weeks since his foray into flowers and food delivery, but watching Becca move during pole dance class brought it all back. Her dark hands dragged slowly up from her ankles and evoked Chase’s body cupping mine, going through the same motion. I remembered the texture of his roughened hands, caressing up my calves until he reached my skirt. As Becca tilted her head in a slow roll, from one shoulder to the other, I thought of Chase caressing the back of my neck with his lips, placing small kisses down my spine. Losing control with him had helped me access the gooey soft mood that I found when I sank into the music and just let my body flow. The sensuality of the dance had me a million miles away. Or more accurately, a few miles away, with a man who found me so forgettable that he’d been a no-show. Enough.

“Whoo. Hot.”

The encouragement from Meghan sitting next to me brought me back to the present. I joined in, whooping and hollering my support as the other women in the second group executed spins and finished their routines.

When it was my turn at the pole, I did my best to avoid thoughts of Chase, but it was impossible to both block him and sink into the liquid motion. Every move felt flat and lifeless.

My inner critic kept whispering. Awkward. Forgettable. Boring. That bitch wouldn’t shut up. She was louder than Meghan and the other students cheering me on, drowning out everything else. All my attempts to fall into the music failed.

I didn’t need Chase to feel at home in my body, and I was frustrated that fantasies of him had intruded so much that I couldn’t enjoy myself. Instead, I’d put my fears on blast. Failed myself. And it stung. I knew I couldn’t rely on Chase. But since when had I become my own worst enemy? Usually dance class left me with an exercise high and sense of accomplishment, but now that too had been dulled by the lens of my disappointment.

After class I tugged on my shoes with more force than necessary and Becca paused next to me on the bench.

“You okay, Tamra?” she asked.

I wrinkled my nose. “Just not feeling it tonight and frustrated with myself.”

Becca’s shoulder lifted in an elegant shrug. “Sometimes I’m too in my own head. The right song can usually drag me out of my funk, though not always. But I’ve watched you dance. You’ve got this.”

Hearing Becca’s confidence restored some of my own. I heaved a sigh and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t quit on me now.” Becca leaned in with a conspiratorial smile and whispered. “I hear next week Meghan’s having us use chairs. I need a friend to laugh with when I fall on my ass.”

I snorted at the image of graceful Becca slipping off a chair onto her backside. “Unlikely. That honor might be mine.”

A warm glow suffused my chest as we wished each other goodnight and walked to our respective cars. Even though I was disappointed in my performance in class, I hadn’t contemplated quitting. I’d embraced “progress, not perfection,” and maybe if I kept repeating that mantra, I could let tonight’s lackluster dance go.

The following work week had the same disconnected quality to it. I went through the motions, but nothing touched me; not really. I smiled with patients, I laughed with the doctors, and yes, I frowned when the occasion called for it, but any pleasure or pain was muted. There was a screen between me and the world. Like I was watching someone else go through the motions of living.

I caught a few concerned looks from Gina, but she didn’t broach the subject of Chase, and neither did I. Immersing myself in work, I focused on my patients and routine.

On my day off, I got ready for my lunch date with Vanessa and tried to feel pleasure at the thought of seeing my sister. Most of my best memories from my childhood were of Vanessa and I playing together. Always bubbly and upbeat, she was a nice counterpoint to Jennifer, who often acted more like a parent than a