Page 71 of Unwanted

“I know what you’re doing. And I like it, but don’t think we won’t come back to this,” he says, kissing me back. “What do you have planned today?”

I’d taken to starting my day off at the gym, hoping it would provide me with some sort of routine while I was away from Seattle.

I was still working, but Jordan was lightening my workload by the day. Whether he was anticipating my eventual departure, or he was trying to be a friend and push me to stay, I couldn’t tell.

Either way it meant I had too much free time.

Too much time to think.

Too much time to worry about Lennox.

Too much time to obsess over Arlo and me.

Too much time to stress about what was next.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “I have a few emails to answer. I should probably call Jordan and see if I should quit. I feel guilty I haven’t brought any new clients on in almost more than a month.”

I see the question forming on his face; it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he doesn’t. He wants to know what my plan is, but he doesn’t pry.

Instead he tilts his head, looking at me quizzically. “Jordan’s your boss, right?”

“Mmmhmm.” Averting my gaze, I grab my water bottle from the treadmill and pretend to fuss with my towel. I know the guilt is written all over my face.

“Frankie.” I raise my eyes to meet his. “Did you sleep with your boss?”

His expression is blank—not mad, not jealous. If anything, he may simply be curious.

“You make it sound a lot more scandalous than it actually was.”

“So, you’re no longer sleeping with your boss, then? You didn’t leave his bed in Seattle and jump into mine?”

Again, his tone is even and face blank.

Leaning back on the exercise equipment, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you being serious right now? Because I can’t get a read on you.”

Shrugging, he scratches at his neck. “It shouldn’t matter anyway.”

He turns to walk away and I immediately follow him.

“What shouldn’t matter?” I ask when I catch up to him.

Even when we’re back in his office with the door closed, he doesn’t answer me.

“Arlo. What shouldn’t matter?”

“Whether you’re sleeping with your boss or not,” he states. “You didn’t know you were coming here and that this would start up between us again.”

Sighing, I bridge the gap between us and place my hand over his heart. “I haven’t slept with someone in a while, especially not my boss since he’s basically married.” I drag out the last word, making sure he understands there is nobody but him. “And has been for the last year.

“But I need you to not make excuses for me,” I tell him. “If you’re mad or jealous or feeling any specific way, then let yourself feel those things. Sometimes they’re rational and warranted and sometimes they’re not. But, regardless, I don’t want you to bottle anything up. Not with me. Not any more.”

Over the years, I found myself reading up on addiction and triggers and was often left wondering what it was that made it all so appealing to Arlo. How did something turn from recreational to near-fatal?

But what I did read spoke about repressed feelings and why the use of meetings as a sounding board could help addicts in recovery not get lost in their own thoughts or feel less alone.

So even if it seemed like something small, I didn’t ever want Arlo to internalize his thoughts and feelings around me.

I wanted to hear everything he had to say. I wanted to be the shoulder he could lean on. And just as I open my mouth to tell him these things, my phone rings.

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