Page 68 of Selfish Desires

“Hey.” I craned my head. “Can I sit?” Before I knew it, I pulled the chair from the table, sitting without permission.

“Sure.” Stephen smirked, scanning me as I sat. “How’s it going?”

“Let’s just cut to the chase.” I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the table. “You’re upset with me.”

Stephen blew a heavy breath through his lips. “That’s a loaded statement. I’m not upset with you.”

“Then what is it?” My heart lurched, waiting for his response.

“Why can’t I just have coffee and relax?” Stephen pointed to his half-empty cup, struggling to hold eye contact with me.

“I don’t know, Stephen. You tell me.” I maintained my gaze, unblinking. He was never very good at keeping secrets, and how he avoided my eyes told me everything I needed to know. “We’ve always been able to talk to each other.”

“That was before things changed,” Stephen finally admitted, pushing the beverage away. “And you know what I’m talking about. Don’t play stupid.” He swallowed. “Because you’re not. You’re anything but that. You’re smart. Strong…” Stephen paused a beat. “Loyal.”

I blinked, shaken by his last word, shaking off its sting. “I’m confused, Stephen. What are you exactly trying to say? I apologized for that night and have tried to do the right thing. But now I’m confused. Is this about the poker table?”

“Oh, fuck the poker table.” Stephen laughed. “This is about your boyfriend.”

“We’re engaged now.” My pulse increased, as did a budding anger in the pit of my stomach. Was Stephen jealous? Was this all about a green bout of envy?

His eyes, usually warm but now cold and distant, darted around the restaurant before settling on me again.

“Engaged,” he murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth like a bitter pill. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his unshaven jaw with a sudden weariness. “It’s not right.”

“What isn’t right?” I crossed my arms, shifting away. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Stephen repeated, scoffing. His fingers drummed on the table, his gaze turned down to them. “No, I'm not jealous.”

“Then what is it, Stephen?” I asked, tension pulling at the edge of my voice. “What is your problem?”

Stephen’s face contorted in a grimace before breaking into a strained laugh.

“No,” he finally said, meeting my gaze. “I’m not jealous of him.” There was a bitterness in his voice that I hadn’t heard before.

“Then what is it?” I demanded, my hand clenched tightly in my lap beneath the table.

He looked at me for a long time, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find the answer. Stephen sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You won’t understand,” he muttered, looking away.

A strange chill ran down my spine, but I ignored it. I wanted to desperately break this wall between me and Stephen because, after all, when I first arrived in Newport over three years ago, next to Marissa, Stephen was my other source of comfort, my confidante. And suddenly, we had become imperfect strangers in a small town.

“Try me,” I pressed, insistent now.

Stephen was quiet for a moment more before speaking. “It’s not jealousy,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. “It’s a concern.”

“Concern?” I echoed back at him incredulously.

“Yes.” Stephen ignored my skepticism. “I’m worried for you. Your reputation. The life you built here when you had to get away from your life with Vincent before he destroyed you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my heart thumping in my chest.

Stephen leaned forward across the table, his serious expression and sour caffeinated breath hitting my nostrils, making my stomach flip. “This man...he’s dangerous.”

My blood ran cold but also boiled at the same time. “Vincent?” My voice cracked.

He nodded solemnly. “Look at the trouble he’s caused since he got here. He purchased that ridiculous house, going for all those permits the town doesn’t want to approve, but everyone knows he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And now interrogating everyone about something that’s going on with you.”

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