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“So was I.”
My stomach dropped. Nothing good was going to come out of this conversation. I could feel it. I paced between the living room and the foyer. I felt Everly’s stare on me, even though—judging from the sound of the roller on the wall—she was still painting.
“I don’t know who’s second-rate vagina this is, Max, but it’s not mine.”
I stopped short. “What are you talking about the vagina isn’t yours?” I looked up and locked eyes with Everly. She was now watching me with wide eyes, the roller in the paint tray instead of on the wall.
“I think I know my own vagina,” Chloe said. “And what I’m looking at is not mine. They must have mixed up the molds.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “All right, let’s not freak.”
I could fix this. I had to fix this. It was my job. For the rest of my life. Arguing with porn stars about vagina molds.
“I’ll get on the phone and find out what happened.”
“Thank you, Max. It would be a nightmare if this was released with my name on it.”
I suppressed my laugh. How bad could the mold be? I wasn’t naive enough to think that all vaginas were the same, but at the end of the day, a hole was a hole, wasn’t it?
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and returned to Everly.
Without turning her head, she whispered, “I hate it when I get the wrong vagina mold.”
I laughed. Hard. Loud. She had no idea how much I needed to laugh at this situation. How much I needed someone else to realize how ridiculous this all was. I returned to my task, shaking my head.
“You work just as hard as I do, you know.”
I didn’t bother to face her. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do have a lot of things I’m responsible for.”
And it was only going to get worse.
She let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why does your side of the wall look better than mine?”
I looked up, trying to figure out the difference. There was only one explanation. “You’re not rolling hard enough. That’s why you’re missing spots.”
She cocked her hip and pointed the roller at me. “Are you good at everything you do?”
“What?” I returned to rolling. “No, I’m not.”
“You can do everything. Lead a company. Run. Paint. Work with vagina molds.” I laughed at that one. “Please a woman…” She left that last sentence hanging.
I stepped toward her and slipped my arm around her back, pulling her close, nuzzling her neck. “You would know all about that.”
She tensed in my arms.
When I pulled back and our eyes locked, it wasn’t desire staring back at me, it was sadness.
“Hey…what’s wrong?” I set down my roller and wrapped both arms around her. Tipping her chin up with my finger, I forced her to look at me. “Are…are you not pleased?”
My worst nightmare. For all of the time I’d spent trying to be the man who knew about nothing other than sex, had I failed? Was I a joke?
“Of course I’m pleased.” She gave me a weak smile. “I just…I only know some of your skills. You refuse to show me all of them.”
“I’m not refusing…” I cupped her cheek. Obviously I wasn’t good at everything. I had no idea how to work this relationship with Everly. “I just want to take things slow with you.”
With the saddest, most confused look I’d ever seen, she whispered, “Why?”
Because I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll taint you. Afraid I’ll break you. Afraid you’ll break me.
