What on God’s green earth were you thinking? I wasn’t. That was my problem. Always acting with my heart
instead of my head. I should not be asking Will to go for a drink. I enjoyed
talking to him, but I also felt things that I shouldn’t. While we were
chatting, I kept imagining his hands holding my face as he kissed my lips
delicately at first, then more urgently. He had the perfect combination of
ruggedness and softness with a passion that was thinly veiled just waiting for
the right moment to burst out. Nothing quite like fantasizing you were on the
receiving end of all that intensity.
Asking him to go for a cocktail came from the desire to be closer. That’s why I should absolutely stay the hell away from him. Will was a fantasy. I was a dreamer, an artist with an overblow imagination. Part genetic and part a result of being in a marriage that had been falling apart way before I even realized it.