Page 32 of Physical Therapy

SIXTEEN

Edith

I’ve tried to leave twice now, and yet he seems to stall me at every turn. A crime drama plays on the TV, turned down low. Our dinner sits between us on the floor: extra-cheesy supreme pizza. I glance across at Boe as he takes a bite.

I wouldn’t have picked him for a man who likes the simple pleasures outside of work. He comes across as so cultured, so purposefully put together when in a suit. Not the man before me who winds the string of cheese around his thick finger before sucking it clean.

I readjust the T-shirt I have on to cover more of my ass, my legs tucked to one side where I sit. His gaze tracks my movements, lingering on my flesh as I lean forward to take a second slice.

“You better work out a goddamn solution,” he warns. “Because you’re sure as fuck not doing much right now to convince me carrying on with this would be a bad idea.”

I sigh, a small smile playing at my lips. The pizza burns at my fingertips. “I’m not doing much to tempt you, either.” I take a large bite to prove my point.

“I don’t know.” Hungry eyes rove my body. “An attractive woman wearing my clothes while sitting on the floor eating pizza.” He growls quietly. “I’m sure that’s most men’s dream.”

“Frat boys, maybe.” I laugh.

“Aren’t we all just frat boys at heart?”

True. I finish my slice, feigning interest in the TV. This conversation could get deep, and that’s not something I’m in the mood for. Not after the sucker punch to the gut my earlier realization was.

For now, I’d simply like to live the dream a little longer.

I’d like to enjoy having a man who tests me, who’s compatible.

Even if I know it won’t last.

The gentle slide of the box against carpet snaps me from my daze. I turn my attention back to Boe to find him setting dinner aside before then scooting across the floor to me.

“Can I tell you something? Off the record?”

I nod, allowing him to adjust me so that I sit tucked between his legs with my back to him. Boe rests against the armchair and plays with my hair, fingers gently lifting the lengths.

“I hate my job.”

I laugh, turning my head to see him. “That’s hardly anything unusual, Boe.”

He meets my gaze with a stoic one of his own. “Career, then. Everything about it. I hate it.”

I twist in his hold, tucked side on against his body. “What would you rather do?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve a suit.”

Knew it. I suppress the smug smile that desperately tries to break free. “If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?” I picked it from the start: deep down he is not corporate.

“Mechanic.” He flinches, as though it physically hurts him to be truthful. “I’ve always wished I knew more about cars and trucks.”

“Wow.” I turn a little more, settling between his feet so I can observe his expressions better. “Why get into sales then?”

“You know about my old man, right?” He frowns.

“Yes.”

“I wanted to prove I could do it right. I wanted him to see that I could do honestly, what he had to achieve illegally.”

Damn. “Why was that so important to you?” If only I had a notebook.

Boe shrugs. “I can only tie it back to why I resented the asshole.” He pulls a deep breath. “He chose to fucking rip our family apart. He chose greed over loyalty. But he never acknowledged that.”

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