Page 37 of Selfish Desires

“You said you had no choice.” Thick tears threatened to spill over my lids while I tilted my head back to keep them hidden. “You had to keep me safe.”

“There’s always a choice, I realized.” He squeezed my hand. “I just chose wrong.”

This was what I would call a moment. And before I could answer, the front doorbell chimed, causing both our heads to jolt to the source.

Of course, Stephen entered like he half owned the place with a smile plastered across his face. Stephen was a vision in denim from head to toe, almost like a poorly dressed Ken doll if I compared him to Vincent. Then again, any man beside Vincent paled to a pathetic shade of what I wanted.

“Hey, Wendy!” Stephen’s boisterous voice echoed in the café, oblivious to the tension between Vincent and me. He lumbered over to us at the counter, flicking a playful glance at Vincent.

Vincent’s fingers slowly relinquished their grip on my hand, sliding away with an almost visible reluctance.

“Stephen,” I forced out a smile, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Within seconds, the comfortable bubble that enveloped Vincent and me shattered. “Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to, um, talk to you about something.” His eyes flickered to Vincent. And I knew just what limp dick Stephen wanted to talk about. “Hey, I’m Stephen.” He extended a hand out to Vincent.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I scooted back from the two men. “Stephen, this is Vincent. An old friend from New York.”

Vincent clenched his jaw, nearly glaring at Stephen, but accepted his hand, pumping it twice. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hey, Marissa!” Stephen beamed at Marissa, who emerged from the storage room with a large vase cradled in her arms. He swiped a red rose from the bouquet and twirled it between his fingers, eyes dancing with amusement. “These are pretty. What’s the occasion?” He held up the rose.

“Can’t we have roses without a reason?” Marissa asked.

“Not really.” Stephen laughed and stuffed the single rose back into the vase. “You got a minute?” He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes darting between me and Vincent.

“I’m gonna go in the back if that’s okay?” Vincent pointed to the kitchen. “I need to make a call.”

“Sure, of course,” I answered, smiling at Vincent and his brilliant social cues. He shot me one final look, those come fuck me eyes telling me whatever happened before Stephen’s interruption wasn’t over yet, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

“Alone at last,” said Stephen, laughing. His eyes flicked to where Vincent had disappeared before returning to land on me, a smirk curling his lips.

I frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” A nonchalant shrug as he casually leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter, fingers laced together. “Well, actually, I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ensure you and I are okay after the other night.”

I ran a hand through my hair, wincing. “Right, again, I am so sorry about that. I should have called sooner to apologize. You did nothing wrong. That was all me.”

Stephen waved a hand in the air to silence me. “Look, I’d be lying to say I haven’t thought about you that way. I mean, you’re beautiful, Wendy, and I didn’t just want to sleep with you and be done with it, you know? I would have wanted to do things the right way with you. Maybe you’d finally take up my offer for dinner, but…” Stephen trailed off as he gazed at the closed kitchen door. “I don’t think now is our time. Right?”

“Right,” I confirmed, my heartbeat echoing the word. It was a relief to hear him agree. “I think we’re better off as friends.”

Stephen nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on me. The relief on his face was palpable, mirroring my own. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his perfectly messed sandy hair. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

A moment of silence passed between us, and all I thought about was going back into the kitchen to see Vincent standing there, waiting for me. Suddenly, my body yearned for him, and my heart ached. Choosing anyone over Vincent felt like a cold, jagged rogue wave crashing over, sweeping my body out to sea.

“I should get going.” Stephen swallowed hard, breaking the silence and motioning toward the door. “Got a few errands to run.”

“Okay.” I nodded, wrapping my fingers around a glass cup beside me for something to do. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and patted my hand gently. “For sure.”

By the time Stephen exited the café and vanished from sight, I felt an unburdening sigh leave my lips. A sense of relief washed over me as I turned my attention back toward the swinging kitchen door.

“Marissa, I’m heading into the kitchen real quick,” I called over my shoulder as I began moving toward it.

She barely looked up from her task of arranging the rose vase. “Yeah, sure, Wendy.”

I pushed open the door and found Vincent leaning against the meat locker’s door with an air of nonchalance that seemed too practiced. His arms crossed his chest, and a slight frown marred his face.

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