Page 59 of All Bets are Off

“No. This will only take a minute.” A bit of ink draws my eyes to the opening of her white blazer over her right breast.The tattoo.I still can’t believe she had her body permanently marked in my honor. I wonder what it is, exactly.

Anna takes a step toward me, standing too close, and I move away before I start to talk. “I know Dex is your brother, and I know you had lunch with Logan.”

If she’s upset that I know, she hides it well. “Small world, right? I couldn’t believe it when Dex told me he’s working with you.” When I don’t say anything, she continues, “As for Logan, yes. I asked him to lunch. I wanted to talk about what this business with his mother is doing to you.”

“You had no right to do that,” I say coldly. “My life has nothing to do with you. You moved here to be near me, didn’t you? You have some crazy idea we can get back together.”

“I moved here to be near my brother. But if you want to know if I want another chance with you, the answer is yes. I think we’re really good together.”

“You’re delusional. Logan told me about the tattoo.”

“This one?”

Anna pulls her camisole down to bare the tattoo—a compass with a heart where thewforwestshould be. When her hand moves again, exposing a pink nipple and the swell of her breast, I look away.

“Do you like it?” Anna asks, voice a low purr. “I wanted a part of you on my body forever.”

“I know you have a wall full of photos of me, too,” I say.

The fact that I know this doesn’t faze her a bit. Stepping toward me, she says, “Does seeing my breast tempt you? I remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off my tits.” She shoves the camisole down so that the piece of cloth is pushing both of her bare breasts upward and together. “I remember the feel of your mouth on them. Your tongue. I remember how you liked to slip your cock between them.” She gives a harsh laugh. “Good luck doing that withLogan.”

“For Chrissake, Anna! I don’t want to see that.”

“Are you sure?” Moving her hands over the round mounds, she plucks at her nipples with her fingers, and I have a sudden, vivid memory of what a wildcat she was in bed. “Can you really say you don’t like what you see?” Her eyes fall to the front of my jeans. “I think you do.”

Striding to the door, I pull it open, forcing her to adjust her top to hide her nakedness before someone else sees.

“I’m going to have a talk with your boss. It’s likely you’ll be out of a job. I suggest you move back home, or you’re going to find the police knocking at your door.” I step into the hall and stride out into the lobby.

“Traitorous bastard,” I hiss at my cock as I step on the elevator, angry at my body for betraying me and at Anna for being such a goddamn bitch.

Donna answers Gloria’s door and lets me in.

“Good morning,” she says with a smile. “Or, rather, afternoon. The day’s just flying by.”

“How is Gloria today?”

“She’s doing well. She’s in the living room, knitting.” The nurse leads me down the short hall and into the small living room where Gloria sits on the couch, knitting needles flying over red and yellow yarn.

“Hello, Gloria,” I say jovially, pushing aside the unsettled feelings my conversation with Anna left me with. “How are you today?”

Gloria’s eyes, so like Logan’s, fix on me. “Oh, it’s you.” She smiles. “I’m so glad to see you. Although I can’t think of your name right now.” Her brow dips.

“West,” I say, taking a seat beside her. “What are you working on there?”

Looking down at her knitting, her face clears. “A scarf. For my father.”

I nod. Both of Gloria’s parents have been dead for many years, but I’ve learned it’s easier to just go with whatever Gloria thinks at the moment. “I’m sure he’ll like it very much.”

She smiles. “I hope so. I hope to have it ready by Christmas next week. Mom and Dad are taking me to the parade, and it’s going to be very cold. So it’ll be an early gift to surprise him.”

“That’s sweet,” I say. After a moment listening to her knitting needles busily clicking, I say, “I didn’t originally plan to stop by here today, otherwise Logan would be with me.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Gloria, do you know who Logan is?”

Dipping her head, she continues to knit, narrowing her eyes in concentration. I give up and ask her about her shows, and her face clears as she tells me all about the one that sets up couples who live in different countries, followed by a description of a recent trip to the beach with a group from Garden Oasis, and then something about dolphins and whales. By the time I leave the apartment, I’m wrung out from responding to her rapidly changing subjects, and a headache has taken up behind my eyes.

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