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.