The Importance of Being Ernie (The Flynn Family Book 4) by Kayt Miller

Author:Kayt Miller [Miller, Kayt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 28: Claire

I wake up cold. And alone. I blink awake, and in an instant, I remember everything that happened on the very couch beneath me. Without turning, I feel behind my back hoping I’m wrong. Nope. He’s gone. Instead of standing up, I roll to my front then push up on my knees. I step to the side until my foot hits the ground.

I look up at the clock and note the time. Eight thirty-five. Lifting myself up into a standing position, I look around the room. Maybe he’s making coffee? I step into the kitchen, but it’s dark in there, which means he probably hasn’t made coffee yet. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom.” I wander down the hallway past his bedroom. It’s almost like a time capsule in there. It looks exactly like it did the night I moved out except the mattress from the top of his bed is gone.

I walk more and note that the bathroom door is open. “He’s not in there.” Continuing my trek, I reach my old bedroom door. It’s ajar, so I push it open. It’s dark, but there’s enough light coming from the window that I can see inside. Ernie’s asleep on his mattress. It’s in the same spot where my bed was when I lived there. He’s snoring and covered by his quilt. I look at the floor in front of his bed and see the chenille throw from the couch. The one he covered us up with last night. The one he took with him when he left me alone on the sofa. Cold and alone.

I’m not sure where they come from, but several hot tears slide down my cheek. I’m not sure why the sight of that chenille blanket on the floor by his bed causes such a reaction, but it does. It’s sort of symbolic of our entire relationship.

I know how Ernie thinks so when Ernie woke up, he was probably uncomfortable and wanted to be his own bed. He slid out from behind me taking the throw with him. Instead of thinking of me, worrying that I’d wake up cold and alone, he took the throw with him. He didn’t wake me to ask me to join him on his king sized mattress, and he didn’t feel it necessary to cover me up before he left. Why would he? Why would I need a blanket?

Hell, while I’m at it, why would I want the man I just had sex with to say my name, or something other than ‘Ball-Peen’ at some point while we did it? It was like I was just some body for him to screw. It wasn’t Claire and Ernie. It was Ernie and, uh, Ernie. I mean, why would I want the man I just had sex with to do something, anything, that would help me climax? Some would say that it’s key to the success of the sexual experience––that both people involved should come but no, not Ernie. The important thing is that Ernie had a good time.

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