Page 68 of Infinite

Pris lowers herself onto the couch, flips Rosie onto her back, and begins to rub. “You named her Rosie?”

Sam places his head on my lap when I sit across from her. I almost say, no, my girlfriend did. Except there are two very dangerous things about those words. One, Becca technically isn’t my girlfriend. Not really. We’ve talked about giving us a chance. We’ve kissed a lot, one time naked, the other times with the promise of sex. But we’ve yet to make it official.

The second reason, and maybe the most important, is that Rosie is on Pris’s lap. Uttering the words “my girlfriend” would result in Pris snapping Rosie’s ears off with her teeth, barrettes and all.

“Hale,” Pris says, growing impatient. “Why did you name her Rosie?”

“It fits her?” I offer, my statement sounding too much like a question given Rosie’s predicament.

“I suppose it does,” Pris says. Whatever I say placates her enough. Her belly rubs turn less meat-tenderizing and more tender.

“You never wanted a dog with me,” she says.

“Huh?” It takes a while for what’s she says to register. “Oh. That’s not true. I almost got you a Golden Retriever once.”

She stops petting Rosie, her hands dangerously close to the dog’s throat. “You did?” At my nod, she shakes her head. “Figures. My preference is for lap dogs. Not that you’d know. And if you were truly getting me a dog, it was probably to shut me up for something that annoyed you.”

Okay. I’ll give her that one.

Pris scoffs, scanning her surroundings. “Damn it, Hale. What are you doing here?”

“I think the better question is, what are you doing here?”

Pris seems ready to cry. “I’m here for us.”

“Don’t do this, Pris,” I say. “There was only ever an ‘us’ when you needed the company.”

Her eyes darken, just as they always did when she thought we should get naked. I don’t like it and it’s not going to happen. “You seemed to enjoy my company in bed.”

“How many?” I ask.

“How many what?”

“How many men enjoyed your company in bed while we were together?” I ask.

She laughs, bitterly, as if I somehow wronged her. “You first. How many women did you fuck when you were with me?”

“None,” I reply, leaving no room for argument.

Her eyes widen. “You’re lying.”

“Nope,” I say. Pris and me were always there for each other physically. That emotional piece never came, especially when I realized neither of us had it in us to give.

“Are you telling me the truth?” she says, her lips tightening into a line.

“Why would I lie?” I ask. “I know there were other men in your life. You took the time to shove them in my face every chance you had. It was the perfect excuse to fuck someone else. But I never did.”

Her features turn sour and I almost expect one of her loud tantrums. Instead, her eyes well with tears. No crocodile tears this time. The real kind I’ve never seen.

“I just assumed that when you didn’t want me, you wanted someone else.”

“The only thing I wanted was to build my business,” I say. “It’s the only thing I ever wanted when I was in New York.”

I pause, a thought occurring to me. “How did you find me?” I ask.

She wipes her eyes. “I have my ways.”

Yeah. She does. She also has her fair share of connections.

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