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“We could certainly do this again,” I tell John. “Maybe next month. We can’t be out too much and too often, not with Elliot still sleeping in the same bed with us.”
“Aw, he still comes over from his crib?” Tamara smiles warmly. “The sweetest thing. Sunny did that till she was four, maybe five. I’d give anything to get that back.”
“We could have a fourth kid and start over,” John suggests, but Tamara laughs hard.
“Only ifyoucarry to term, mister!”
Becky giggles. “Yeah, not an easy thing to do, huh. Whew, one too many drinks tonight, I need my bed. Let’s go to bed, honey…”
“You only had a few shots and two cocktails,” I reply, holding back a grin as she comes closer, her soft chest pressed against mine. “Mrs. Connors, you are positively naughty tonight.”
“Watch out, son; whatever they put in those cocktails is going to cost you,” John laughs.
Our cab arrives, and we bid John and Tamara a fond farewell before we slip into the back seat. As soon as we’re out of their sight, Becky suddenly changes back to her calm and reserved self, taking a deep breath as she briefly checks her phone, mere inches from my reach. That was cold, even for her. A second ago I had an arm around her shoulder, reveling in the warmth of her body.
“It was a fun night,” she declares in a flat tone. “But my feet are killing me.”
“I thought you got drunk?”
“Tamara doesn’t know, but I asked the bartender to make everything non-alcoholic for me. I’ve been feeling queasy all day, and I didn’t want to ruin the evening for anybody.”
I give her a startled look. “Wow, you play the drunken part fantastically, then.”
“Thank you.”
“Like, somebody needs to get you an Oscar.”
She giggles, and I love how I make her laugh when she least expects it. “Well, okay, let’s not exaggerate. I’m not that good…”
Soon enough, an awkward silence settles between us. She’s on her phone, probably texting her sister. I’m staring blankly ahead, thinking of ways to maybe touch her, to bring her closer. But she won’t let me. I’ve tried enough times to recognize her refusal before I even reach for her hand. I’d give anything to tuck that lock of rebellious hair behind her ear. To nibble on that pinkish lobe. To leave teasing kisses down the side of her neck.
Her skin is perfect. Silky, soft, warm.
But she isn’t mine. She never was. For one night, I thought she might be. But I’m the one who’s leaving when this is over. I’m the one who offered the contract. I cannot play with her. I cannot toy with her life. She and Elliot deserve better. Yet part of me rejects the premise that I couldn’t do better, that I couldn’t be the better among the choices available for Becky.
It shouldn’t matter, but here I am, sitting in the semi-darkness of a cab, inhaling her fragrance that feels as precious to me as air, and wondering…Why does it bother me so much that we’re going our separate ways when this ends in a week?We’ll be signing the contract soon. The sale will be complete. And then I will be on my way while Becky moves on with her life.
Why does it bother me?
CHAPTER19
BECKY
It’s too late for me to completely pull away from him. I don’t know why I keep struggling, why I keep telling myself that it’s going to be okay. It will never be okay, not the kind of okay that it was before Todd and I crossed paths. It will never be like that again.
I’ve done my best to keep my distance, to maintain a clear line between my personal life and my career. It’s been quite the mission, in fact, not to lose touch with reality once in a while as I slipped into my role as Becky, Todd Connors’ fake wife. Elliot is fine; he’s too young to understand what any of this means. But it pains me to think how I’ll have to explain Todd’s absence soon enough. Truth be told, it will be agony for me, not for Elliot. Elliot will miss him, sure, but as he grows up, he will forget him. He will forget that Todd even meant something to us.
I, on the other hand, have come unglued.
Ever since that night, I’ve been struggling. More than once, I’ve wanted to quit the whole thing. But I need the money, and my parents’ hospital bills must be sorted sooner rather than later. Then there’s their hospice care, which Laura, Callie and I agreed to split evenly between us when the time comes. There’s Elliot’s preschool tuition, too; that’s coming up fast. Then school. Then high school. I can only hope that Todd’s generous bonuses will cover everything like he said, because I want my kid to go to a good college. I want him to have a better shot at life.
Yet when all this is done and thought of, when I’m too tired to worry about any of it anymore, my mind wanders back to him. It’s been him for a while, this presence at the center of my consciousness, this man making me want to do more, to be more, to become a better version of myself. We don’t know each other nearly as well as I’d like, but I know enough to understand why it was so easy for me to fall for him. Todd is easy to love once you get to know him a little bit.
But he is still going away. That hasn’t changed.
And he hasn’t taken a single step toward me, either. I’ve noticed the timid attempts to reach out, sure, but it’s nowhere nearly enough to make me come out of my shell again like I did that night. Not when I know he has no intention of sticking around, anyway.
I’m in the kitchen now, trying to keep my head screwed on while waiting for the coffee maker to finish brewing a fresh pot. Vincent brought in a new Colombian roast—my favorite from our regular shop down the road. It’s like he knew I was feeling down and thought of a way to cheer me up. Well, it’s not that I’m feeling down but rather downright nauseous.
