“It’s not about doing what I want, it’s about protecting them.”
“Protecting them from understanding they have a grown-up daughter?”
“It must be nice to live the kind of life where you don’t have to take other people’s feelings into account,”I’d tried not to snipe.“But sometimes you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. This would be one of those times.”
And sometimes you do the wrong thing for entirely selfish reasons, but that’s a different story.
Meanwhile, here I am, wandering around Whit’s gorgeous apartment, living my very own version ofPretty Woman, without the sex work aspect. Although the kind of sex we have is likely to melt my brain. Anyway, Doreen had ended the call with a cheery,be good!before adding,but if you can’t be good, be careful!
What kind of advice is that? And be careful of what? My hips? My sanity. Maybe the current state of my fertility? Two out of three I don’t need to worry about.
Before we left Whit’s mom’s house yesterday, she offered to make up the spare room for me. Heather offered me a room at her place, too. I felt so awful lying to them both, but I could hardly tell them Whit had taken care of me already.On lots of fronts.
But I didn’t need to lie because, in front of everyone, Whit casually suggested I stay with him. It would make the most sense, he’d said. We’re both going to the same office most days, and it wouldn’t be for long. Besides, he had space, he’d offered magnanimously. So much for not encouraging his mom because I don’t think we were fooling her. I also think we both know we’re fooling ourselves. I have a feeling this won’t end well.
I rest my butt on the arm of the tactile velvet sofa and slide over it like a sloth, my new black pants aiding my descent. Whit was already gone when I woke this morning. He had a flight to Zurich to make. He’ll be gone a few days, which will give me time to devise a plan. Maybe Doreen’s place will be given the okay, or perhaps I could look for a temporary flat share? Or I could just stay here and gorge myself on all that Whit has to offer.All those bedroom delights,my mind supplies, making my insides flutter.
My phone begins to ring next to my morning cup of coffee, flashing with Whit’s name. I consider ignoring it, but I find I don’t have the willpower.
Will I ever learn what’s good for me?
“Hello, gorgeous.”
“How are you there already?”
“It’s only an hour and a half away. Plus, no airport loitering when you fly private.”
“Oh fancy.”
“It is a bit. But don’t be too impressed. It’s a company jet.”
“Yeah. It’s not like you own a huge chunk of the company or anything.” Leaning forward, I straighten a pile of artsy-looking books on the coffee table until square, smiling at the sound of his carefree laughter.
“Sometimes I think I should pinch myself.”
“You definitely shouldn’t,” I reply. “You should ask me to do it.”
“I told you last night I wasn’t ticklish.”
“I’m not sure I believe you. If you truly weren’t, you would’ve let me try to tickleyou.”
“Hmm, but that’s not how the game goes.”
“Why do the games always have to go your way?” I almost whine. Can you complain while smiling? Picking up my coffee cup, I realize it’s gone cold. And that I’d forgotten to use a coaster. Oops!
“Because I’m in charge and that’s the way we both like it.”
“I’m not sure I do,” I lie.
When we got back last night, Whit said he had work to do, but I eventually persuaded him to watch a movie with me. I might’ve implied there could be a little action under the cashmere throw I’d pulled over our legs. When it didn’t happen quick enough for him, he’d pulled me down on the couch and began ruthlessly tickling me. I blame him discovering my ticklish feet.
Anyway, it wasn’t a random act of deviance but a premeditated undertaking to get what he wanted. His demand? That I’d run my choice of “friendly dates” by him. There might’ve been some mention of a veto vote, but that was in the heat of the moment.
I mean, how can he choose when I’m only planning on playing pretend?
“You’re a lovely little liar.” How does this sound like a compliment? “You like the sense of being powerless.”
“Do I?”
