Page 38 of Tempt Me

“And what day is good for you? Am I supposed to schedule everything with your damn secretary?”

Oh boy. I tactfully melt away into the next room, but their bickering follows me, angry and spiteful.

“You’re the one who wanted a bigger place to entertain your precious clients.”

“And you’ll be happy to spend my money to decorate.”

“Your money? I’m the one keeping our household running, and don’t you forget that.”

I let myself out into the backyard and close the door behind me. It’s sad. Five years of marriage, and they’re already at each other’s throats?

I shiver. I can’t imagine that kind of future, full of bitterness and sharp words. My parents may have had their rough patches, but they always supported each other in the end. That’s the kind of partnership I want, where I know we’ll be there for each other, no matter what.

Someone who can see me at my worst, and still love me unconditionally. Someone who understands that I’m not perfect, but doesn’t judge me all the same.

Is Max really that guy?

The door opens behind me. “We’re finished here,” the woman calls to me, and I hurry back inside.

“I can find you something else,” I reassure them. “There are a few other place in the neighborhood—”

“No, this is fine,” she says, giving Charles a sharp look. “We’ll take it.”

“You will?” I can’t believe it.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” His voice has a sarcastic edge, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

“Submit our offer,” the woman tells me. “This is our new home.”

I lock up and walk them out, then watch as they head to their shiny luxury car. They don’t touch, I realize—not once. The newlyweds I work with are always holding each other’s hands, or snuggled up together, their arms around each others’ waists. But these two don’t even brush each other in passing, they’re locked in two separate worlds. Bound together but not in harmony.

Is that the future I have in store with Max?

The question whirls in my mind. I should head back to the office, but instead, I get off the subway and just start walking, too caught up in confusion to see straight.

What are you doing, Chloe?

I swore I wouldn’t sabotage myself again. That I wanted a new beginning, and that Max was that fresh start. After everything that happened in Chicago, I should know not to follow desire at the expense of everything else I want in life.

Except...

Is this thing with Jase just about lust? It started that way, but it doesn’t feel so reckless anymore. I’ve seen a side to him that’s solid and kind, the way he protected me and kept me safe when I was at my most vulnerable. There’s so much I don’t know about him, but still, I feel this connection, no matter how hard I try to stay away.

And Max... I thought he could be my Prince Charming, and wipe away all the sins of my past. He swept me off my feet, but now I see things clearer, and I’m realizing, our relationship isn’t built on solid ground. I was so swept up in the romance and fancy gifts, I didn’t see the way he overrules me, all the little criticisms and ways he tries to nudge me into being more polished, more polite, more like the girls he grew up with, those effortless society hostesses.

I’m not that girl. I don’t want to be that girl. But if I stay with him, is that the future I have in store? Always trying to keep him and the rest of the Mainwarings happy, while secretly I feel like I’m cutting parts of myself away?

Who do I want to be? What kind of life should I choose? The shiny dream of happily-ever-after—dressing up, and choosing my words, and always playing pretend?

Or something real. Something true.

Like it could be with Jase...

I take a deep breath. Somehow, I’ve wound up at Miss Kay’s dance studio. I don’t have any classes scheduled, but I let myself in and climb the rickety staircase, hearing music coming from down the hall. I follow the sound to a studio where Kay is teaching a couple of intermediate ballet dancers, turning pirouettes in the middle of the room.

I watch them from the doorway, running over everything in my mind.

Jase told me once my body can’t lie. There’s an irony to that. As a dancer, you have to trust your body more than anything. You train and work, learning steps by heart until they’re automatic. No thought involved. I always loved throwing myself into the movement, rehearsing day and night until I knew that if I leapt into the most challenging, risky sequences, my body would still carry me safely through the routine. My feet knew the right steps, my legs had the strength to send me soaring, and my limbs all moved in perfect unison to the music, no room for doubt left in my mind.

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