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I’d like to bottle up those words and keep them close. It’s something Sadie never asked of me. And when I’d spend too many hours in the office, Kendra used my time away from home as a weapon. Halston actually missed me, and the evidence is right in front of me. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It scares me how hard it was to be away from you.”

I rub her back. It doesn’t scare as much as worry me. Halston’s mood has been relatively good since we met three weeks ago, but the day before I left was the anniversary of her mom’s death. It was important to her that she end her meds that day so she could feel everything. And something about not wanting to hit the ten-year mark. I held her as she cried and reminisced. I listened. What I didn’t do was tell her it might not be the best time to stop. She’s mentioned enough times how Rich and her dad try to control her treatment.

“Did you try writing?” I ask. “Doesn’t that help?”

“I started to. It was the first time I’ve written since we met, but then . . .”

“What?”

She hesitates. “It’s stupid.”

“Of course it’s not.” I scoop an arm under her knees and carry her to the studio’s small sofa. I sit her across my lap. “If it’s something I did, you can tell me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

I set my jaw. There’s only one other explanation. She admitted recently that Rich’s still sniffing around, trying to change her mind about their break-up. I don’t need that. One of the worst things about my affair with Sadie was being kept in the dark about her marriage. I could never be exactly sure where we stood, because I only ever heard her side. I might need to step in with Rich before things get more complicated. “Is it Rich? Did he bother you while I was gone?”

“No. I mean, yes, he did, but I don’t care about him. It’s . . .”

I bend my head to try and get her to look at me. “What?”

She plays with a button on my chest and I temporarily forget that I’ve wanted to get out of this stiff shirt since the moment I put it on. “That photo you posted yesterday . . .”

I think back to the photo. We’d shot it a few days earlier. She’d dropped a glass in the kitchen in the middle of the night while getting water. I found her on her hands and knees cleaning it up. “You’ll cut yourself,” I’d said, pulling her up by her bicep. “Leave it. I’ll get it in the morning.”

I’d turned out the light, and the glare of a nearly full moon silhouetted her, her red slip the only color in the dark. She’d started to apologize, but I’d cut her off to get my camera. I slid down the strap of her negligee, positioned her sleep-disheveled hair over her shoulders, and shot her in the dark. Since we were apart yesterday, I’d posted it without her permission, but her face was shadowed. She hadn’t told me not to as she’d watched me edit it.

“What about it?” I ask.

“Did you see the comments?”

“I don’t think so. What’d they say?”

“Someone called the caption weird.”

I’m a toy.

Come, wind me up,

Play with me.

Her voice cracks. “They said it was sick. Do people think that?”

“Person, not people, and no, they don’t think that. How many other comments were there?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “There were four more.”

“And?”

“They were good.”

“So it’s one person, and clearly, this kind of stuff isn’t for her.”

“Him,” she corrects. “I looked at his account. It’s private, but there’s a bible verse in the description.”

“It’s one comment out of many from someone who obviously came across the photo by accident.” I kiss her temple. “Don’t let it get to you.”

She flattens her hand on my chest. “It just made me think. I am weird. How come I can’t just keep these thoughts to myself like a normal person? Why did I write them down? Why would I want people to read them?”

I study her face, the way her nose slopes to a perfect little point. Bible thumper or not, I’ll knock out any motherfucker who makes her feel ashamed. Her words come from deep inside her. They can never be bad, because they’re honest. “If either of us was a normal person, I wouldn’t have met you,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to find you, and,” I pause, my heart thumping, “I wouldn’t be falling in love with you.”

She blinks up at me, a tear dripping off her eyelash. A megawatt smile spreads across her face. “What?”

“You heard me.” I can’t help mirroring her grin. “This has been the best month of my life. I’m falling in love with you, Halston. I think I’m already there, but I don’t want to scare you off, so consider this a warning—it’s happening.”

“It’s happening for me too.”

“I figured.”

She laughs and jolts me with a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Her eyes sparkle, partly from the tears, but I hope from what I just admitted. Fate finally took pity on me. It dropped her most intimate thoughts and feelings right at my feet and said, This is it, you poor schmuck. Here you go, now leave me alone. I knew then, I needed this in my life. Once Rich was out of the picture, there was no reason for me not to love her.

“What about my post from today?” I thumb the hollow of her cheek. “It wasn’t for them. It was for you.”

“I didn’t see it. After I spent too long trying and failing to stalk that man who commented, I deleted the app from my phone.”

I raise my eyebrows. I wouldn’t be surprised if she checked it ten times a day. “Seriously?”

“I overreacted. I’ll restore it.” She tries to get my phone from my pocket, squirming in my lap as she feels around. So help me God, I’ve got the patience of a saint. I’ve held out over forty-eight hours and now she’s tempting the beast. She finds what she’s looking for and goes to the post.

In the photo, she’s asleep. Her body is outlined by my white sheet, her legs scissored across the mattress.

In my sheets.

In my head.

“When did you take this?” she asks.

“Sunday morning, before I woke you to say goodbye.”

“I love it. You’re so talented.” She widens her eyes. “Four-hundred-likes talented. Wow.”

I smile. I haven’t read the comments. I don’t normally. Maybe I should start, though. I don’t like seeing her this upset over something a stranger said, and I won’t be able to wipe it away with I love you every time. I have to start watching for these things.

I tilt her head up and touch her bottom lip. “I only care about one like.”

She catches my thumb between

her teeth, then licks it. “You have it.”

“I might need some convincing. I haven’t been inside you in three days, and you’re not all over me like I’d hoped.”

“It was two days,” she says. “We had sex before you left.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding. “I woke you up to say bye, and I was almost out the door when you jumped me.”

“I promised I’d be fast, and I was. Have you ever gotten a condom on in two seconds? Maybe I should be in charge of that from now on.”

I squeeze the side of her ass, adjusting her so she can feel what her words do to me. “I don’t remember it being that fast. I might need to see it again.” I rake a hand through her hair and hold her in place for a kiss. She was crying only a couple minutes ago, and I should restrain myself, but I’ve been suffering without this. I put my hand up her skirt and find a treat. “Are these for me?” I ask, unhooking one of her garters.

She responds with a hip-swivel so skilled, I almost lose my eyeballs to the back of my head. “Fuck, Halston. Touch me. Don’t make me wait.”

She opens the button of my jeans and squeezes her hand inside. Her cold skin jolts me, but she warms up quickly, stroking me long and hard. “Like this? Or . . .” She looks me in the eye as she thumbs my crown, spreading precum over it. “That?”

I fist her elastic band. “How important are these tights to you? I’m either going to rip or come on them.”

“You said that last time, and you did neither.”

A challenge? I stand, nearly upending her onto the ground, but I catch her at the last second. “Bend over the couch.”

When she does, her skirt rides up the backs of her thighs, exposing more garter clips. I unzip my pants all the way. I haven’t had her from behind often, mainly because I like to watch her face as she comes. No time like the present. She’s just as pretty from this angle and appetizing as fuck.

I slip my hands under her blouse to grasp her breasts. She prepared for me, the scrape of her lace bra welcome against my palms. She shivers when I caress her lower back, goosebumps pebbling her skin. Slipping a finger into the elastic crotch of her panties, I say, “Next time wear white, so I can see how wet you are.”

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