I click on it, but instead of the feed full of delicious shirtless workout photos that I was expecting, his account is actually kind of…boring. It’s regularly updated, and he has thousands of followers, but the main content of the photos is food and dogs.
A lot of dogs. Bandana wearing pitbulls that are practically smiling at the camera in every photo. That makes me laugh. I think I would have pegged him as a dog person, but I’m not sure I can even track how many dogs are in these photos. Are these all his dogs? Does he run a shelter? But it seems like his fans are also fans of the dogs, always calling them out by name in the comments and talking about how the photos lift their spirits.
They aren’t wrong—they do.
I click on his story to see his smiling face. It is a story from yesterday about to disappear. “Puppies are happy about running today,” he says, laughing. The camera moves and it looks like he’s being pulled forward. As the view shifts, I see what I count to be seven dogs on a combined leash, all running flat out. Jon is being pulled with them. “Slow down, you maniacs,” he calls. “I can’t keep up with you.”
There’s laughter before the video cuts out. That’s sweet. Definitely something to talk to him about.
I scroll back in his feed, and there are a lot of the same, until I see something that makes me pause. There’s a definite shift in the direction of his photos. Jon and a gorgeous blonde woman used to feature in nearly every photo. They are smiling and happy. The last picture is of them kissing on a beach at sunset, a perfect romantic photo.
And then she disappears.
The date on that photo is seven months ago. Nothing but food and dogs since then. Even though our encounter was long after that last picture, I’m surprised at my visceral reaction to seeing him kissing someone else. I don’t like it. But my heart also aches for him. From her abrupt disappearance, I can only guess what happened.
Glancing at the clock, I try to re-focus. I’ve only got a couple of hours left.
4
Jon
The WNSV station looks exactly how I imaged that a news studio would look from the outside. Sprawling and shining with dark glass windows and the large letters signifying it plastered on the side of the building.
Ben must have worked quickly. I didn’t expect the interview to be literally the same day, but hey, whatever works. It seems like the station is just as eager to get me in to an interview as I am to get into the same room as Sadie.
They tried to pawn me off onto some sports reporter, but I wasn’t having that. I wanted it to be her. I want to sit across from her and have her ask me questions, knowing that the last time we were together I was making her scream.
Jeremy is walking ahead of me, still tapping on his phone the way he is ninety percent of the time. Some people might think he’s rude, but really he’s just that busy. I can’t give him any shit for it because the fact that he’s glued to his phone all day is what’s given me half of the opportunities that I’ve gotten. Ben is walking behind me.
God, it’s so fucking weird to have an entourage.
As we approach the doors, I get a glimpse of myself walking toward the perfectly reflective windows. I’m in one of the new suits that I’ve had to get for press conferences and appearances, and this one is the best. It fits me like a glove, and I look damn good. There wasn’t a chance that I was showing up here looking like anything but the best. Ben and Jeremy might not know why I’m really doing this, but I’m not going to have any pretenses with Sadie.
I’m here for her. What was meant to just be a one-night thing hasn’t left me alone, and I want her again. I want to take her out and make her smile. And then I want to take her back home and reenact everything that we did in the club and take it further. I want to taste her again. I want to see her on her knees and let her finish what she started.
And most of all, I want to be able to do all that while I can call her by her name and she can scream mine. By now she knows that I’m coming here, and she knows that it’s for her. No need to pretend otherwise.
I’m not a saint. I’ve had one-night stands before. There were plenty of them before Kristy. But no one has ever stuck in my mind the way that she has. Clearly there’s something here, and I want to figure out what it is before it drives me mad.
And I haven’t slept with anyone since her.
As soon as we walk through the doors, I see her. Or rather, her picture. There’s a huge banner of her and her co-anchor Bill smiling at the camera in a traditional pose. She’s so fucking beautiful, even in that image, that my breath catches.
And then there she is for real, approaching us from across the lobby, high heels clicking on the tile. She’s wearing a blue suit that perfectly sets off her hair and skin tone, that same hair I ran my fingers through swirling in waves around her shoulders. I want to sink my hands deep into it again so I can hold her still and kiss her. Hold her still so that I can make sure she’s not going anywhere again.
Her smile is brilliant. Dazzling, even. Her hand extends toward me. “You must be Jon,” she says. There’s the tiniest challenge in her eyes. Like she’s daring me to say that we know each other and how in front of my team.
“That I am,” I say. If she wants to keep it a secret for now, I can play along. “This is my agent Jeremy, and my assistant, Ben.”
She shakes both of their hands and makes a point of looking them in the eye. More than some people do when I introduce them. I’ve met my fair share of people who’ve looked straight over everyone—especially Ben—because they don’t think that he’s important. When I see that happen, I know those aren’t people I can trust.
“Right this way,” she says leading us through the lobby and into a hallway. “We’ve got the studio set up, so we’ll be ready shortly once we can get you lit properly and in make-up.” Pushing through a door, we enter a cozy studio made up to look like a living room. The kind of thing that you see on news shows when they want someone to be in a comfortable environment. There are a couple of couches facing each other and a small coffee table in between. Huge professional lights are in each corner, but there are smaller lamps to the sides of the couch to make it look intimate. Despite this cozy façade, now that we’re in here, Sadie looks anything but comfortable.
“Mr. Lawson,” she says, “I was wondering if I could speak to you privately for a moment.”
Jeremy snorts. “I don’t think so.”
She looks so unsure, but pulls it together. “Just a minute. I just need to clarify something for the interview.”
“No,” Jeremy says, finally looking up from his phone. “Absolutely not.”
I hold out a hand. “Jeremy, it’s okay.”
He gives me a suspicious look, but shrugs. Sadie blows out a breath in relief, and leads me to another doorway off the studio. It’s just a small room, like some kind of booth that’s not being used, dim with only light from a darkened window.
Sadie turns to me, hands twisting in front of her. She looks nervous. And the last thing I want her to be is nervous. I want her to be ravenous. For me. “You remember the last time we went to a private room together?” I ask.