As if on cue, Dog growls from his spot on the couch.
This is my fault because I gave her permission to decorate, but I expected a few throw pillows and an area rug. I didn’t imagine she’d find my skeletons in the closet and hang my transgressions on the walls for everyone to see. My life two months ago is unrecognizable now, and I can’t process any of it. Today, especially.
“Looks good, bleeding girl,” Talent says, glancing around the apartment. “This collection is impressive.”
If you only knew, I think to myself.
Camilla has a hard time making eye contact with Talent, and I hope she doesn’t have the same problem with her client this evening. I’m not convinced Camilla has it in her to be an escort, and I haven’t figured out why she wants to. Curious, harmless, and kind, Camilla is everything I’m not. There are moments when her demons surface, but the more I get to know her, the more conflicted I am about introducing her to a lifestyle where one day, she won’t stomach the paintings on the walls.
I am not harmless, kind, or curious.
If Camilla is as successful as Inez predicts she will be, I can move on. Inez has done too much for me to leave her high and dry, but if Camilla takes over my clientele…
Camilla snickers and points at her nose. “Bleeding girl. Because of the grocery store. That’s cute.”
Talent steps past me to offer his hand to Camilla, changing into the straight-laced businessman everyone knows him as. He oozes charisma and poise, and I want to snatch him by the back of his shirt to keep him to myself.
“We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Talent Ridge.”
Camilla’s gold eyes check mine for permission before accepting his hand and saying, “Camilla Hearst, but you can call me Megan.”
She winks.
I want to hit her over the head with one of the canvas paintings that taunts me.
Talent follows me to my room, pushing inside after I try to close it in his face. A normal functioning person would tell him that ten years ago today my mother died, but I’ve used my voice and cried enough in the last twenty-four hours to exhaust me for a while. I still have dinner with Inez to look forward to, and those fucking paintings on the wall almost put me over the edge.
Talent chuckles. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a while before you stop pushing me out.”
“I come by it naturally,” I say, toeing off my shoes.
My bedroom is minuscule compared to the size of his, and not sophisticated by any sense of the definition. His California king would swallow my queen-sized whole, and while I spent good money on my sheets, Talent’s felt like a damn dream. I have the room I wanted as a teenager, and he has the bedroom of an adult.
He looks misplaced among my things, too glossy and too new. Talent drags his finger along my mattress before lifting the magazine from my nightstand to read the cover. It’s brainless celebrity gossip, and nothing his name would ever be mentioned in. He turns the lamp on, and then he turns it back off.
“You don’t have any pictures up,” he observes. “No family. No friends. No boyfriend.”
Smirking, I lean against the doorframe to the connecting bathroom and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m a paid escort, and you’re worried that I have a boyfriend?”
Talent sits on the edge of my bed, and it’s outrageous that he’s here. He’s the only other person to ever set foot in my room, let alone my life. How did I allow this to happen?
Oh, yes. By being a whore.
He doesn’t push the subject, and instead asks, “Was that the stray from the coffee shop out there on the couch? The one Camilla said ate the plant?”
Nodding, I say, “I haven’t found his owners yet.”
Talent laughs, and it reaches all the way up to his eyes. “Is that why he’s still here?”
“Yep,” I say in an even tone. “I’m going to make posters and nail them to telephone poles. He can’t stay.”
The sparkle in his eyes dims, and his smile softens. Talent licks his lips and turns his face away from me.
“What about me?” he asks softly. “Can I stay?”
“Right now?” I understand this isn’t what he means, but say, “No, I have dinner plans with Inez.”
Should I tell him that he can’t stay tomorrow night, or the next night, or the night after that because I have an entire week of men scheduled to fuck? For the sake of his feelings, I keep the gritty details about my line of work to myself, but could he tolerate me if he knew how stacked my client list is this week? What if I named names and enlightened him on the fine Grand Haven community? I can turn his entire world upside down.
I won’t.
For now.
Exposing our clientele is against the rules.
But so is bringing one home.
He rakes his fingers through his hair and comes to his feet, letting out a bated breath. My heart quickens knowing this is the part when he leaves, and I don’t know if he’ll come back. Like a silent alarm, my heart soars and warns the rest of my body and mind that this is going to hurt. I’m prepared for Cricket’s ten-year death day, but I didn’t ready myself to fall for Talent Ridge.
“Come here,” Talent says. He reaches for the front of my shirt and pulls me within arm’s reach. He doesn’t let me go, but maybe he’s learned I do better when I have space. “Can I call you tonight?”
“I haven’t activated a new phone.”
Talent pulls me a fraction of an inch closer. “I can come back tonight.”
“That’s not a good idea, Talent.”
He pulls me a little closer, and I close my eyes and wish I could be the woman he deserves.
“Lydia, I know this won’t be easy,” he whispers painfully. Talent bends at the knees to find my eyes when he says, “Can you try? Just try. I am.”
Jerking my shirt free from his grip, I pull it over my head and drop it to the floor beside where his jaw has fallen. I unfasten my bra and turn away, stepping over it on my short walk to the bathtub. Talent’s asking for more than I’m capable of. He has to realize that I don’t know how to be emotionally available or in a committed relationship. I’ll never get the words right or be the type of woman he can take on romantic dates or vacation with the family, but I know how to use my body.
I plug the bathtub and let the water run over my fingers to check the temperature before sliding my leggings down my thighs. I kick them toward the closet.
I couldn’t find my underwear at Talent’s, so I’m not wearing any now.
Talent swiftly closes the distance between us, bringing me in his arms to lift me onto the bathroom counter. He pushes himself between my bare legs and glides the palms of his hands up the side of my body. “You’re going to be the end of me. I can fucking feel it in my soul. I won’t survive you.”
“You told me to try.” I feign innocence.
Sliding his hands up my back, he urges me forward until my naked body is pressed against his clothed one. Talent’s warm breath tickles my sensitive skin, and his lips brush against mine when he says, “Try to fall in love with me, Lydia. Don’t try to kill me.”
As the bathtub fills with hot water, humidity thickens the air and steams the mirrors.
Or maybe that’s just me.