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“You stay together for the house?”
“She won’t sell up and split fifty-fifty.”
“And that’s it? The reason you stay? Just the house?”
“It’s a big house, Gem.”
“I guess it must mean an awful lot to you.”
Her words stung. “I’m at the end of my career. I wasted a lot of money. Too much money.”
“You seem pretty young to be retiring.”
I reached out for her hand and she flinched when I took it in mine. “I’m not a trucker, Gemma.”
“I gathered that much,” she said. “Whatdoyou do, Jason?”
I weighed it up, this way and that, battling the urge to walk away from this shit and never look back, mission abort, but I couldn’t. The words were in my mouth, until she spoke again.
“No, wait. Don’t. I don’t want to know. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Maybe not ever. This thing we have works because it’s a fantasy. We change that and the whole thing gets complicated.”
“That’s true.” Despite her words I found myself squeezing her hand.
“I’m not ready to walk away, Jason. We still have things to do.”
“Your roomful of strangers?”
She squeezed my hand in return. “Let’s finish this, complete the fantasy.”
“And then?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m not planning on getting gang-fucked every weekend for the rest of my life, so I guess eventually we walk away as strangers… or I take the blindfold off.”
So many things I wanted to say. Stupid things. Things about her beautiful laugh, and the way her gorgeous tits felt pressed against my palms. Things about the way she made me smile when I thought of her. How she’d made me feel alive again. How much she excited me.
How much I’d like to know the real Gemma.
I said nothing, just dropped her hand back in her lap.
“I’ll take you home.”
***
The house was dark when I pulled onto the drive. I let myself in and flicked on the light in the living room, jumping to find April on the sofa. Her eyes were blotchy, a tissue crumpled in her fingers.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.
I ditched my keys on the table, taking a cautious seat opposite. “What’s happened?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like it.” I felt a strange churning in my gut. Rage I could handle, the bitter snipe from her tongue more than par for the course, but tears, not so much.
“I just got thinking,” she said. “About everything. It gets too much sometimes, you know?”
