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I pat his knee and speak softly, hoping to let him down easy. “I understand what you’re going through. I’m on a journey, too. Maybe if we were closer to the finish, we could be friends. But we both have a long way to go. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“You can. I know you can.” His words are so focused, so insistent, that I want to believe him, but I’m not ready or able to be friends with him.
“How you treated me was a slap in the face for me as well. I spent a great deal of time justifying being a hooker. What you did made me realize there wasn’t a reason valid enough to live with the shame of that lifestyle. I’ve never felt more like a prostitute than I did with you. As weird as it sounds, I should probably thank you. I want more for me, and my son, but I have to find my way alone, and depend on myself.”
His forehead creases, a pained expression marring his features. “I used to think that, but it’s a lonely life.”
Those words hit hard. I am lonely. I have Javier, but I crave an intimate love that makes me feel special. It’s wrong. “I think you should leave,” I say firmly, begging my voice not to break.
Tug stands, and our gazes meet. Our feelings clash between us in the charged air as conflict and agreement battle for control.
“I’m not giving up,” he says. “You want this, too. You’ll see.”
“Ah, Mr. Overly Cocky is back. I thought you weren’t ‘that guy’.”
“When it comes to getting what I want, I’m so ‘that guy’.”
“Oh, I see, so it’s a matter of convenience?”
“Sometimes. Like you don’t have confidence in some area’s that you use to your benefit?”
“No.” I might be lying. “I try not to manipulate people.”
“Uh-huh.” The backs of his fingers brush softly across my cheek. “Who came in the shower with a purpose, Maria or Monica?”
My cheeks flame red. “You got me there, but that doesn’t change anything.”
“You’re wrong. I’m going to show you that you don’t want to be alone.”
I already know I don’t want to be alone, but it’s the choice I made years ago when I acted on impulse and fled my old life.
Tug leaves, and I crawl into bed and cry until every inch of my body aches.
Grandpa’s and a female voice drift into my room. I have no idea what time it is, but the sun is out and shining in my eyes through the open window. Who’s here? I have a moment of panic that we’ve been found, that our years of running have caught up to us. I bolt from the bed and swing the door open. A middle-aged woman with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail smiles at me. She’s wearing purple scrubs and is helping Papa down the hall.
“Who are you?” I ask rudely.
“I’m Veronica. Franco’s nurse.” She introduces herself and holds her hand out. “I’m here to help you.”
I ignore her hand and say, “Papa doesn’t have a nurse. Wher
e did you come from?”
“The Harrington Health Agency.”
“Who hired you?”
“I don’t know,” she answers as she continues helping Papa down the hall to the living room. I follow them. “I’ve been assigned to your grandfather for the next year.”
“Where’s Javier?”
“Oh, I dropped him off at school this morning, and there’s breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
I’m far too pissed to be hungry.
There’s a knock on my door—more like a loud pounding—that vibrates the walls. When I answer it, an aggravated Maria storms into my place. I’d been expecting her, but somehow thought I would receive a friendlier greeting and a heartfelt thank-you. My eyes roam over her perfect ass, and I imagine what it would feel like under my palm, smacking it from behind. In tight-fitting jeans and a skimpy top, she’s every man’s fantasy. She spins to face me. The anger coloring her cheeks makes her even sexier. It’s the same color from the morning we spent together in the shower.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she screams through gritted teeth.
