"You definitely need a distraction. I wish I could make you forget everything.”
The thought of that makes me smile—a playful, flirty grin.
His expression matches my own. “Damn, girl. Stop doing that to me.”
“You’re doing it tome,too.”
He stands abruptly, remembering that this is to be a completely platonic evening.
“Let me play something for you," he says, reaching for one of the guitars hanging on his wall. It's a beautiful acoustic with inlaid mother-of-pearl. “We definitely both need the distraction.”
“Agreed.”
"I can't sing worth a damn, but the guitar I can handle," he warns, settling back on the sofa. He shoots me a playful wink. "We'll go with a Spanish theme tonight."
His fingers move expertly over the strings as he begins playingDespacito.
I can't help but smile.
Later, after two glasses of sangria and the most delicious paella I've ever tasted, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. The rich saffron-infused rice, tender shrimp, and tasty vegetables have temporarily pushed away the weight of my problems — Caine ordered it from some upscale Spanish restaurant downtown.
The meal probably costs more than our weekly grocery budget. He'd arranged it all while I was lost in the skyline view, making calls in that slow, commanding voice of his that seems to make things magically appear.
The sangria buzzes pleasantly through my system, not enough to make me drunk, just enough to soften the sharp edges of my anxiety. The fruity sweetness lingers on my tongue, reminding me of carefree summer days that feel so far removed from my current reality. For just this moment, I'm not worrying about Reeves’s gambling, the pool hall's finances, or Liam.
"Oliver is so freaking adorable," I tell him. “Liam loves him so much.”
He smiles widely. "And about Reeves? I hope hewasn't too upset… I just thought the poor kid deserved a pet."
"He did. And Reeves was more than happy to have him when he saw the check attached. He likes him, too. I've caught them cuddling once or twice."
For a brief moment, as I get lost in the recollection of Reeves, heavy guilt creeps into my chest. I shake it off instantly. He's not ruining my vibe tonight. Fuck him.
I lean back against the plush leather cushions of Caine's sectional, my feet tucked beneath me, watching as he clears our plates with those elegant, deliberate movements that make even the most mundane tasks look purposeful.
In my yellow house with its perpetual clutter, meals are rushed affairs, often eaten without much conversation. Here, in this industrial-chic penthouse with its exposed pipes and perfect tidiness, time seems to slow down.
In the next two hours, Caine serenades me and makes me completely forget all my problems. Every look, every smile, every word hits me to my core.
Memories of him inside me fill my thoughts. I can almost feel his hands on my skin again, those long fingers tracing patterns only he could see. I want him again with an almost painful intensity, a deep, primal ache. I can't barely stand it.
Thank God I'm menstruating, and not ovulating,because my legs would not be tucked under my rear; they'd be spread across the sofa. I came here with the knowledge that we could keep things chaste tonight. I wanted to see him, to be with him. I never realized I'd also be physically aching for him.
He's sitting way too close, and I need a breather.
"Why don't we go hang out on the balcony for a bit?” I suggest.
He smiles. "Are you sure. It's probably pretty chilly out there."
"I want to look at the city," I tell him. "Let's put on our jackets and get out there."
He shrugs, not quite convinced. "Hell… why not. I don't spend enough time out there.”
As we sit side by side on his balcony, watching the city lights, he says quietly, out of the blue, "I'd like to meet Liam someday."
My stomach tightens. "I don't think that's a good idea. I already feel guilty being here without Reeves knowing."
“I love kids, and I love hearing about him," he explains. "But I get it… It would be inappropriate, I suppose."
