Jay knocks my shoulder affectionately, brows quirking up before he scrubs his face and turns back to Talon. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”
Bohdan’s hand cups the side of my face, and he studies me with all these unsaid things in his eyes and I think more promises than he should be making in the swirls of his fingertips against my cheek, but I don’t have any time to decode them before Talon’s waving a finger in the air and pushing them down the hall.
I adjust the top of my dress, about to follow, when Tia grabs my arm.
“Sloan ...” She runs her tongue over her teeth before chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Are you sure about this? You said you were starting a new life back home, and the whole purpose of this agreement was to get what you needed to do that, not to sleep with him. This doesn’t seem like starting over ... it seems a bit like going back in time.”
I roll my shoulder back, a sort of involuntary movement to try and separate myself from her touch and the truth written in the lines of her face.
It’s something I don’t want to hear right now. Not when everything’s still so quiet and he’s still all over me.
I narrow my eyes. “You were the one who said we should fuck at the winery!”
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Tia presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose, voice dropping to a hiss. “And you gave him your underwear?”
“He took those, actually,” I say, petulant.
Tia gives me a flat look.
I hold my palms up. “What would you have me do? What did I say at the start of this godforsaken cruise? He’s got an unfair advantage, look at him!”
I gesture down the hall to Bohdan, standing with Talon and Jay in front of the bar while Talon pours shots of tequila that look far too full, Bohdan’s eyes cutting back to me every few seconds. Hair all mussed from my hands, a real smile carving the lines of his face differently than the usual stoic set, but just as breathtaking, with one hand shoved in the pocket of his shorts.
“He is very beautiful, you’re right.” Tia exhales softly, squeezing my arm before finally letting go. “But he’s not more beautiful than you are important.”
“Trust me,” I whisper, pleading with her, really. I need her to understand, because if she’s casting doubts, every bad thing I’ve been thinking is going to wake back up, and I desperately, desperately need a break from my own mind. “Please? I asked him for this. I say stop, we stop.”
She studies me, head tipping from side to side and one curl tumbling down her forehead. She gives me a tiny nod, and an even tinier smile. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
My eyes travel back down the hall, and they find him.
His find me, too.
If this hallway were the horrible, awful trench between us—I think there’s this rickety, ancient ladder stretching from my endto his now, and I step onto the first rung, and I pray and pray and pray that I won’t fall off and get swallowed whole.
Sloan
Then - Seattle
Our bed has navy sheets.
But I ordered a seafoam-green set today and bought a plant because I read online that calming colours have a soothing effect, and houseplants don’t just purify your air, they’re supposed to promote a sense of vitality.
All things that, according to this one blog I found, promote a positive and harmonious environment in accordance with feng shui principles, and might help to reduce migraine frequency and severity.
I’m not a stranger to an internet rabbit hole—I’ve spent a lot of my life researching things that someone else might find irrelevant.
But today, I might be the deepest I’ve ever been in one.
No one’s come to my office hours, and usually that would bother me. But I can’t imagine someone would stay if they did try to walk in and see me—hunched over my laptop, eyes bloodshot from the screen and the tiny text.
I might buy an acupressure mat, too. Or, a gift card to this traditional Chinese medicine practice not too far from our house. There’s this one study from theJournal of Naturopathic MedicineI found that had some promising figures.
And that entire text I read last night about ancient remedies and practices dating back to 100 BC.
Maybe I’ll buy both.
I’m about to click through my cart—a consultation and three sessions should be enough to get started—when there’s a gentle knock on the door.
