Page 90 of Daring You

“We’ll talk later,” I say instead of answering.

“Astor.”

“What?”

It comes out snappier than intended, but he needs to leave. Ben has to go before I pull at his arm and beg him to stay.

“This, what we’re doing…does it…?”

Mean anything? Hurt you? Feel like more than a distraction?

Whatever Ben means, he keeps the rest of the question to himself. “Never mind. I’ll see you.”

I nod, but he doesn’t see it. Ben’s already shut the door behind him.

Once I’m sure Ben’s in the elevator, descending into the lobby and entering the public life of a smiling, handsome pro-footballer, I walk barefoot to my bathroom.

Shower.

Feel the tenderness between my legs, the residual ache from new, adventurous, sinful sex, and it’s as if Ben’s behind me again, cupping my breasts, sucking on my neck, his dick a heavy rod resting against my lower back…

It’s just sex.

It’ll never be more than that.

It won’t happen again.

I close my eyes in the steam for a while.

After pulling on an over-sized tee, I check my phone one more time—for Mike’s whereabouts, and for any texts or raging voicemails from Locke.

Mike is still at the bar, likely distracted by another woman and figuring he’d deal with ruining my life at a later time. My phone is silent on all message, voicemail, and phone call fronts.

Nothing and no one.

The only e-communication that’ll be overloaded is my work email, and I don’t want to go through it right now.

The database.Thinking about emails makes me remember that my laptop has access to the firm’s cloud, and any work Taryn’s done. I sprint to the living room and pull up what I need, the laptop’s sudden brightness forcing me to blink out the glare a few times.

I scroll, find my work on the complicated finances of Ryan’s inheritance, and despite all I’ve learned, despite Ben being in this apartment, being inside me, moments ago, my finger hovers over the DELETE button.

It’s Ben over my career.

I never thought such conviction would drive me, never again. Ben wouldn’t ever come first in my life, not after what he did. But, things are different now. I’m a changed woman and he’s a different man—literally.

Some emotions are better kept trapped, but others will suffocate if they’re not freed.

Closing my eyes, I hit DELETE.

I shut the laptop and pace through the dark, returning to my bedroom. I consider calling Locke in this moment of brutal decision making, and telling him over the phone about Ben.

It’s all to preempt Mike, but I’m so drained, so entirely confused, that the maneuver seems less smart when I can simply deal with it tomorrow, in daylight, whether or not Mike gets there first.

I lay the phone on my nightstand, then bend down under my bed and slide out a decorative box. Opening it, I sift through the photos, the handkerchief, the rubber duck with the football helmet, and the letters, finding what I’m looking for.

A pale pink, knitted baby blanket made for me by my mom.

I take it with me to bed, nestling it’s softness against my cheek, and let it catch my worries and nightmares.