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“And you keep reliving the past.”
I clenched my jaw. “It’s different. She has a daughter. Her dad is dead. Perrie herself is estranged from her family. She’s not Katie.”
Pity flashed in her eyes before she beat it away. “Of course she’s not Katie. Katie was selfish and cruel, Adrian, and you know it. She didn’t deserve you and she didn’t deserve Zac. But that doesn’t mean you don’t see her when you see these prostitutes. You know you’re only doing this job for your own personal reasons.”
I slammed my fist on the table and stood up. The sound of her name was poison to me. Killed me from the inside out, even though I’d stopped loving her years ago. My dead prostitute ex had kept me snared in her web of bullshit until the day she died at the hands of one of her lovers.
I’d been numb then and I was numb now, but somewhere along the way, I’d reached total acceptance of her death. I was at peace with it, but not with what she’d done to me and to Zac.
“It’s…not the same.” I rubbed my hand through my hair and looked back at my sister. “Perrie is everything Katie never had the capacity to be. She worked that job to provide for her daughter, not because she needed the rush of the next shiny new drug or the constant attention to feel good about herself. But she’s still a prostitute, and she’s still the wrong choice in every way.”
“Is she the wrong choice?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re beating yourself up over this, but maybe she’s not the wrong choice.” Amie capped her water bottle. “She sounds like she’s all alone in this world right now. A life she’s accepted because being a parent comes before anything else—something you know well.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this.”
She looked at me earnestly, her eyes, a few shades darker than mine, holding nothing but understanding. “She’s alone, Adrian. Katie couldn’t even stay faithful to you. You’re judging one woman on another’s actions just because they have one thing in common.”
“Zac. It’s Zac, all right? He already loves Lola and they have this bond over their lack of two parents. He thinks Perrie is God’s gift—”
“While you’re waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“While I’m unable to stay the hell away from her because something about her draws me in.” The admission tumbled off my tongue. There—it was the one thing I’d been desperate to say out loud, to admit, to get the weight off my chest.
I was to Perrie what a moth was to a flame.
Intrigued and desperate…And willing to get burned.
Amie sighed softly. “I get it, okay? I never want to see him—or you—hurting the way you did because of her. But maybe just take the rest of it away. Strip it all back, and don’t let the past stop you from living right now.” She opened her mouth to continue, but she didn’t. She shook her head and looked away.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar, do you know that?”
“Only because you’re trained to spot my lies.” She gave me a hard look before she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said, “I just…I feel like the longer you allow yourself to be afraid or you hold back because of her, the longer she controls you.”
I clenched my jaw. Not because I was mad, but because she was right.
Unfortunately, moving past that was much easier said than done.
***
I left my sister’s house a couple of hours later in only a marginally better mood. The kids had a lot more to do with that than she did. She kept flashing me looks, and I could have read her mind easily.
She pitied me. No matter how much she attempted to hide it, she pitied the hell out of me, and maybe it was the sisterly instinct or the motherly one, but she also hated that she couldn’t fix it.
Not as much as I did.
I wanted to fix it more than anything. I wished I could look at a woman and feel safe enough to let a guard down beyond anything sexual.
I was doing it with Perrie. When I looked in her eyes, I saw a lonely, afraid woman with a past full of heartbreak. I saw a woman who was just like me—hesitant to open her heart to anything. It was a double dose of everything I’m used to, so I was resorting to sex.
To the basest of attractions. To the thing that was easy to walk away from when it was all said and done.
She was my itch, and when I’d scratched her, I’d be over it.
I was lying to myself and I knew it, but the alternative was terrifying.
I pulled up outside her house and waited. Her sitter’s car was blocking hers in on the driveway, so I knew she hadn’t forgotten that I’d messaged to tell her I was picking her up.
