Free Silent Whisper by Andrea Smith Page B

honestly? I really love Walter. He’s kind and generous and he loves me seven ways from Sunday. He may be a retired judge, but you know what? He’s never judged me . He’s always made me feel so special; and he still does.”
    “I’m so happy for you, Lana,” I said and meant it. “And for the record, I don’t judge you either. I’m glad you found love and happiness and why would you think that would be so hard for anyone to understand?”
    “I dunno. His age I guess. I mean he’s sixty-seven and I’m twenty-one. We get some looks, I can tell you that.”
    “Who gives a fuck? Ain’t nobody else’s business, right?”
    “Yeah, right. But we’ll never have children and that kind of sucks. He had the mumps as a kid and is sterile. I kinda always wanted kids. I mean you used to want them, too. Do you still?”
    What should I tell her? I decided as little as possible was best.
    “Well sure, maybe someday. My situation is a lot different than yours, though.”
    “You can say that again,” she said.
    I immediately regretted the remark because I didn’t want to get back on the topic of Dominic, or his family, his marriage, his career and every other thing about him that she found despicable. I mean what the hell? She’d been a whore like me; what was up with all of the judgmental bullshit now? I hoped it wasn’t something that Walter had somehow instilled within her. Lana was a girl from the sticks—just like me.
    I quickly segued into my new career; designing clothes and my soon to open boutique. The more we talked, the less stilted our conversation became. It almost felt like we were back to normal again, but not quite. I knew it would take some time.
    We ended our conversation promising that we would continue to talk weekly so that we were kept up to date on each other’s lives. She was adamant that she would call me though. She seemed paranoid to give me her phone number, making some excuse that it was unlisted because of Walter’s former career as a judge. Threats and all of that stuff she explained.
    I rolled my eyes and told her it was fine, but I gave her my work number just in case she needed to reach me during the day.
    I was glad that we’d at least cleared the air, and I felt optimistic that in time, we’d be as close as ever.

    I spent the rest of the weekend trying to keep busy to help the time pass more quickly.
    I did all of my laundry, cleaned the condo from top to bottom, had my hair re-permed, and even hit a jazzercise class.
    Sunday evening I showered, shaved my legs and put on some sexy lingerie in hopes that it might just be ripped off of me later by a horny Italian that I was missing. I fell asleep thinking those thoughts and didn’t wake up until my alarm clock went off at seven a.m. Monday morning.
    So this was how things were going to be for right now. He was testing me; that much was obvious. He wanted to somehow measure my degree of devotion and sincerity to him. Or maybe it was an issue of trust. Whatever it was, it certainly had me chomping at the bit to have him back in my life, back in my bed, and back between my legs.
    Well played, Dominic. Well played.

c h a p t e r 13
    I took extra care with my make-up and wardrobe this Monday morning. It was mid-July, hot and humid in Camden, New Jersey. My legs were lightly tanned from spending most of Sunday afternoon on my patio, reading the latest edition of Cosmo.
    Since today was going to be spent going back and forth between the workshop and the boutique, I needed to dress accordingly. I wore a short jean skirt with a bright tank top, pulling my long, curly hair up into a banana clip to keep it out of my face.
    I put extra eye make-up on, giving myself a bit of an exotic look with the shadow and eyeliner. The sun had managed to lighten up my already blond hair a bit.
    I slipped on a pair of heeled sandals, grabbed my handbag and my stack of in-process designs and headed out for the day.
    I wasn’t even sure that I would see