Even though I shouldn’t, I slip my fingers through Milo’s hair, letting the silky blond strands caress my skin one more time. Maybe I have a problem. I glommed onto Tucker the first time we met, and now I’m sitting here wishing Milo could be more to me than he is. That he could stay.
Would it matter at all if I told him I didn’t want to say goodbye?
Which I know I can’t say. I spent four years living with someone—at least, sort of. What if what I’m feeling is simply fear of being alone? Some sort of screwed-up rebound? Even if Milodoesn’t mind that I’m a sex worker, he’s already made it clear he won’t be sticking around.
It wouldn’t work. No matter how much I wish it could.
I’m allowed to wish for it though. As impractical and ill-advised as it might be.
As I slide into bed next to him, snuggling close like Iggy with his rock, I decide to give myself that much.
17
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. There was a hurricane. And then another one. #FloridaLife
Rowan
Saying goodbye to Milo feels worse than sneaking away from Tucker’s house ever did. The sharp pain in my chest only deepens when he carries Iggy up the stairs for me, giving him a quick pet on the top of his head while telling him not to eat too many of those “disgusting” black soldier fly larvae. It gets worse when Milo checks around my little apartment to make sure the place is empty, and for a hopeful moment I wonder if he’s stalling.
The worst part? When he hooks an arm around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss, before whispering “It’s too bad our timing is terrible” and backing out the door. I’m still standing there, dazed, with my fingers pressed to my bottom lip when it clicks shut.
“What the fuck?” Was it really only a few days ago that I was last here? It feels like years.
The emptiness of my place, which pleased me so much when I first moved in, suddenly presses in on me from all sides. When I moved here, I was so happy to have something that was just for me, no matter how cheap. Now the silence echoes so loudly.
Not sure I belong here anymore. Not sure I belong anywhere.
I feed Iggy and let him out of his tank to stretch his legs. He’s happily climbing the cheap little cat tree I got him when I go into my bathroom to put my toothbrush where it belongs. All it takesis a quarter turn toward the shower, and I realize I’ve made a mistake.
The memory hits me so fast it almost knocks me over.
That’s what whores do, isn’t it?
Anyone else in the world called me a whore, I’d hit them. But I liked it with Milo. It felt almost like an endearment.
The sound of running water rings in my head. The feel of his arms around my body. His wet skin on mine. His growl in my ear. The slick slide of his hand on my cock.
Where do you want my cum, baby?
I don’t think I’m being dramatic when I say Milo has ruined me for other men. When I first met Tucker, I was so in awe of this handsome, successful older man who wanted me. Who said, at first anyway, that he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
The sex was good. Fine.
Then there was Milo. He woke something up in me.
I try to shake the memory away. My hands cover my ears, willing away the desire for something that was never meant to last.
It didn’t make sense to ask Milo to stay. For the billionth time, I remind myself that he’s a hit man. Settling down isn’t something he’s going to do. Besides, Belle Argo was only ever meant to be a temporary stop for me. I really do need to go home. See my mom. Apologize.
“Goddammit. Dammit, Rowan. You should’ve at least told him.” My reflection in the bathroom mirror looks equally angry and devastated.
It’s too late now. Milo’s gone. We didn’t even exchange phone numbers. Of course he didn’t stay. Of course not.
But I still wish he’d wanted to.
My heart jumps when I hear the knock at the door. My long legs eat up the distance between the bathroom and the frontdoor in a few brief steps. It’s only been a few minutes. It’s got to be him.
