“I’m sorry. Mel, I’m sorry,” he slurred.
“It’s fine. Go to sleep.” Again, she tried to stand and again he pulled her back. She clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might crack.
She glanced at Dr. Jacobs standing in the corner of the room. He could clearly sense her discomfort, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to jump in and pull her out of there. Her heart warmed, knowing that even as he pretended to study a painting on the wall, he had one eye trained on her.
“It’s not fine. I never should have kissed you that night.”
“Bobby –”
“We’re better as friends. You didn’t really want me,” Bobby continued. “I mean, the sex was great -”
“Stop,” she cut him off through gritted teeth.
“I thought we could just make each other feel good for a while. You know? You were so sad all the time and I thought... But it didn’t. And I –”
“That’s enough,” she said firmly, extricating herself from his grasp. “Go to sleep.”
Bobby nodded, turning over on his side and pulling the blankets up around his neck. “Okay, Mel,” he murmured. Min crossed the room in deliberate strides, walking past Dr. Jacobs without making eye contact and heading straight to the common kitchen.
She searched the cabinets for the last bottle of chianti. Dr. Jacobs appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. She held up the bottle to him and he nodded, his jaw still clenched. She poured a glass and handed it to him, focusing on keeping her hands as steady as possible so as not to spill as she passed him his glass.
They sat at the long table opposite each other, not speaking, sipping their wine and avoiding eye contact. At least, she was avoiding eye contact. The embarrassment that Dr. Jacobs now knew that she’d slept with Bobby was too much. She couldn’t bear for Dr. Jacobs to think less of her. And if he knew why she’d needed the comfort Bobby offered her that night… if she had her way, he’d never know why.
Dr. Jacobs cleared his throat and ran his finger over the rim of his glass in slow circles, focusing his attention there instead of on her. She was grateful for the reprieve.
“So,” he began, his voice unnaturally calm, almost cold. “You and Bobby.”
“No,” she replied quickly and with more severity than she had intended. “It was one time. A mistake. And it will never happen again. We’re just friends.” She glanced at him, needing to know that he understood just how much she meant it.
“You were sad,” he said, repeating Bobby’s words.
“I was.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. “And angry. And scared. And I just didn’t want to feel any of that for a little while.”
“And now? Are you still sad and angry and scared?”
“Sometimes.”
“Me too,” he smiled sadly. “And tonight?”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “No. I wasn’t any of those things tonight.”
He nodded and took a final sip of his wine. “I should go,” he said.
Min followed him into the hallway, still holding her wine glass and avoiding his eyes. Clutching it, really. She desperately wanted him to stay. She didn’t want the night to end like this. She wanted more time like they’d had on the rooftop, more of him looking at her like he wanted to devour her and not the way she imagined he must be looking at her now that he’d seen some of the chinks in her armor.
At the door, Dr. Jacobs retrieved his blazer, carelessly crumpled on the floor where it had fallen as they’d struggled to get Bobby inside. “Thanks for coming out tonight,” he said, his voice rough with an emotion she couldn’t identify.
She nodded, focusing her gaze on the tips of his shoes. “Goodnight, maestro.”
He traced one finger over her jaw and beneath her chin, tilting her face to look at him. Even with the assist, she kept her eyes downturned, ignoring the command implicit in the way he touched her. But he waited until she lifted her gaze to his. What she saw there made her eyes sting with the effort not to cry. His brow was furrowed in concern, but his eyes were soft, liquid pools. Like she could bathe in his gaze and wash away her sins. His hand moved to cup her face and she leaned into his palm instinctively.
The smell of sweet wine lingered in the air, the heat from his body radiating out around him. Slowly, he raised his other hand and gripped the back of her neck.
“He was never good enough for you.” he growled. Then he brushed his lips against her cheek, the scratch of his midnight stubble pleasantly rough against her skin. That simple kiss on the cheek set her on fire, each nerve ending alive and burning for his touch, for him to replace every bad memory with a new one. For the man she could never have.
As he pulled away from her and turned to walk down the stairs, she felt the heat of his kiss still searing her skin. From halfway down the first flight, he turned back and looked at her, his face hidden in shadow, and then he was gone.
∞∞∞
