Chapter 3

3

E LIZABETH

It’s cold as fuck when I answer his call, yet the moment I hear his voice, I forget about the blades of ice moving down my legs.

“Elizabeth?” he murmurs, his voice a flurry of emotions.

I don’t know what happened, but he sounds different.

“David…” I say quietly.

“Where are you?” he asks, noticing the slight quiver in my voice.

I give him a quick update on where I am and who sleeps inside.

“You can be sitting outside,” he argues.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I want to be able to talk to you.”

A few moments pass.

“Okay. We won’t be long then,” he says while I’m thinking of ways of sneaking back inside, cuddling under the blanket, and falling asleep with him on the phone.

“There’s no rush,” I say. “How was your evening?”

“It was good. I talked to James, and, uh…”

He stalls, and I begin to wonder what it is that he can’t share.

“Something happened?”

“No, no. We’ve discussed my schedule through the end of the year.”

His voice is firm like steel.

There must be a reason we’re talking about this.

“Is that concerning me?” I ask.

“It might,” he says in the same serious, almost stern voice that pushes a shiver down my spine.

“How?”

“I don’t know yet,” he says, preoccupied.

“Are you flying back?” I ask, my pulse racing.

“Yes. I have to.”

That doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with me.

Maybe he needs to take care of some business. Or maybe James had asked him to do that.

“You have to…” I say, disheartened.

“Listen. I’ll quickly travel to Singapore when I’m done here.”

My insides crumble, and my lips are dry.

I open my mouth to say something else but can’t articulate the words.

Eventually, I gather my composure as the voice inside my head nudges me to not show weakness.

“Does that mean we are over?” I say, cold, bracing myself for anything.

“No. That’s not what it means,” he says confidently, and I wonder how much of that is him handling the situation like an adult or him going over his options.

“I can’t come to New York. Or Singapore,” I say.

I almost push out a laugh.

Not only I can’t do it.

But I don’t want to do it.

Hooking up with him here is one thing. Having a nice weekend in New York is cool. But becoming the jet setter while giving up on my humble life is too much, and it no longer sounds like fun.

“There are things I don’t know yet. I’ll work diligently to shorten the time I need to manage the business.”

“You’re not doing this for me. Please don’t do that. I don’t want that from you.”

“Don’t worry.” A smile beams through his voice. “I’m doing it for me. I want to come home.”

“Home?”

My voice softens.

My heart clenches.

“I thought your home wasn’t here,” I say.

“I thought that too. But I want to be there for Christmas.”

Something in his voice makes me suddenly suspicious.

“It isn’t only because of me?”

“No.”

He laughs.

“You already said you didn’t want me to change my schedule for you,” he adds.

I feel trapped.

“Did I get it wrong?” he asks.

“No. But I hope it didn’t come off as offensive. I don’t want you to change your life for me.”

If you’re not doing it for a particular reason .

Truly, I hate being pressured to do things.

This life gets complicated by the second, and between missing him, wanting him, and now trying to coordinate his big-ass schedule with my meager existence, this is too much.

“It didn’t come off as offensive. I just wanted to talk to you about what was going on in my life.”

“It must be more than that.”

“Yes, it is…” he says and goes quiet.

I let the silence grow.

“I’ve thought about you a lot since you left,” he says, and I become one with the chair, shivering from cold and emotions.

“I’ve thought about you too,” I say.

“I don’t want to let the distance ruin this.”

“I feel the same.”

“Good. Then let's take it one step at a time and not overthink things.”

“I’m with you on that, but things will be a little complicated now that Chloe is back.”

I whisper my best friend’s name and feel like a little thug while mentioning her as if she is the problem.

“I don’t know what her plans are. She will surely go home, but she may want to hang out. Spend time at my place. She’s not going to school, working, dating. She might need me.”

“Okay.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you and have our little, you know… Virtual sex sessions.”

My cheeks are aflame.

“I don’t know about traveling, though,” I drone on.

And no, I don’t want this thing to become public.

Now more than ever, I don’t want to face people’s questions and, possibly, the inevitable ending.

This is not the best time for any of that.

If he travels––and I knew that was his life––where would that leave me?

How can things work between us?

“Who said we won’t have them?” he says, talking about having virtual sex, and I imagine his blue eyes getting softer with a sultry smile.

A wave of heat moves through my blood.

“I have an idea…” I find myself talking. “We can spice things up,” I go on. “I’ll make one of those online accounts, and we can meet online.”

He gives me a laugh.

“Like a sugar baby kind of thing?” he says. “Now that we are into role-playing again.”

“I’ll pretend I’m not interested in knowing how you are so astute in these things, and my answer is yes. It will be fun. You will be my only client.”

“I better be,” he says with a hint of humor.

“Yes. We can have fun. We meet online, do our thing, and nothing transpires. If anyone’s interested in what I’m doing, I’ll come up with an explanation. I don’t think it will happen, though.”

Although, it might. Chloe might be curious about it, so I’ll tell her I’m trying this sugar baby business.

That could be a perfect cover-up for the money floating around in my humble existence.

“When can I call you?” I ask.

“You can call me anytime.”

“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll call you then.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from saying the rest of it.

How much I want him to be here with me.

“All right, baby. I’ll wait for you.”

With that, we end the call reluctantly, and I freeze in my seat, staring blankly at my phone.

The house is quiet. The backyard is dark, and the sky is full of stars.

What a beautiful night.

In a different universe, he and I would be together. He wouldn’t be a busy billionaire. And I wouldn’t be a struggling student failing at adulting.

We would have our little place and be chatting just about now. The house would smell like food and him.

I would bury my nose in his shirt, and he would put his nostrils against my hair.

My arms would be locked around his neck. And his arms would be draped around my body.

This little game we played has furtively morphed into something serious. I want less of the game and more of the simple things we can’t have.

My phone pings with an alert.

I look down and read his text.

David: A little something to ignite your creativity.

A short clip follows, and my eyes widen in surprise.

The recording is right on point. The focus is on my butt and his hand clutching my waist as he rocks his hips and enters me.

A shockwave of pleasure rams through me, making me forget about the cold, the fact that I’m outside, and Chloe is sleeping soundly on the sofa.

It looks good.

We look good.

And the angle is perfect.

The clip runs on a loop, and it becomes hypnotic.

“Hey, “ a sleepy voice grumps behind me, and I almost drop my phone.

I manage to palm it and shove it into my pocket, at the same time lifting my gaze.

Squinting, Chloe looks at me from the doorway, struggling to keep her eyes open, her grip on the handler.

“Were you talking to someone?”

“No,” I say curtly. “I was watching clips online,” I add, rising.

“Clips?” she mumbles. “What clips?”

“Puppies and stuff.”

“Oh, I love puppies.”

“Who doesn’t?” I murmur, grabbing her by the elbow and nudging her inside. “Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll tell you more in the morning.”

“Wait,” she says, pulling to an abrupt halt. “Why were you outside? It’s kind of cold.”

“I like cold. Besides, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh…” She closes her eyes while I guide her back to the couch. “You are such a good friend. I’m so happy I’m back,” she says, sliding back against the pillows.

I tuck her in, and she instantly falls asleep.

I watch her for a few seconds, loving how her lips start to twitch, reminding me of the dogs I was talking about.

Smiling, I go to my room, shed my robe, and slide under the covers before searching for puppy clips online to show her in the morning.

ELIZABETH

“So, who is the asshole who parked their car in front of your place?” Chloe asks before taking a sip of coffee.

I glance over my shoulder before turning the stove off and pivoting to the kitchen table.

I slide the scrambled eggs onto two plates and bring the toasted bread to the table.

I grab my cup of coffee as soon as I slide into my seat, and surreptitiously glance at my new ride, making a mental note to move it and also ask my mother if my old ride has been fixed.

“I don’t know,” I say and swallow a sip of coffee.

The aromatic drink does wonders for my brain.

“I’m sure they’ll move it soon,” I mumble before focusing on my food. “Eat before it gets cold. Do you want some jam with the toast?” I ask, rising from my seat and heading to the cupboard.

She’s silent behind me.

I open it and look up.

“I’ve got strawberry jam. And apricot fruit spread. Which one do you prefer?”

“Any is good.”

I bring the glass jars to the table, her eyes hovering over me.

“You look good,” she says.

“So do you,” I reply, reclaiming my seat.

Her eyes don’t leave my face.

“What happened to your skin? Is that natural tan or shimmering foundation?”

She leans closer to check my cheeks.

“It’s tan,” she murmurs.

“Probably,” I say, starting to shove food into my mouth. “We’ve had quite a few sunny days.”

And some horseback riding in New York.

“It looks good on you,” she says, moving her eyes over my face. “Anyway,” she says, falling back into her seat and focusing on her food. “I was thinking that maybe I should get a job.”

I stop chewing, my mouth full, my eyes pinned on her.

“What?”

Our eyes connect.

“Yes. I thought to myself, what better way to spend this time than working? It will allow me to clear my head and think about the future and keep me occupied.”

I chew on my food and swallow fast.

“You took a gap year for a job?”

“No. I’m thinking to get a job.”

“Why? You have money.”

“I do. I won’t work for money.”

“Then why work?”

“As I said before, I’d like to try something different. Gain some real life experience.”

“You make no sense,” I mumble around my food, looking at my plate. “Most people hate their jobs. It’s tiring to go to the same place every day and spend time with the same people, who’re usually miserable because they hate their jobs.”

“That’s a gross generalization. You don’t hate your job.”

“I don’t have a choice. I have to go to work. Speaking of which…” I finish my food, drink the last drop of coffee, and check the time.

“I need to go. I have a long day ahead of me. Do you want me to drop you off someplace?”

She studies me from above the rim of her mug.

“Did you fix your car?”

My mouth falls open.

“Uh… It’s still at my mother’s place. But it should be fixed by now.”

Shit.

I completely forgot about that.

I give Chloe an update on my car and text my mother.

The reply arrives instantaneously.

Terry: Danny will pick it up tonight.

Chloe reads my face.

“No car?”

“It’s ready today. I’ll get it tonight,” I say, thinking about methods to maneuver my way out of this sticky situation.

“It looks like I’ll be dropping you off someplace,” she says, pulling out of her seat and heading to the sink to wash her plate and mug.

“No need to. Do you want to spend the rest of the day here?” I ask.

She glances at me over her shoulder.

“No. I’ll go home. Buy some groceries and stuff. What time do you go to work?”

“Why?”

She turns the faucet off and pats her hands dry with a kitchen towel.

“I was thinking about stopping by at Maggie’s.”

My heart beats faster.

“Why?”

“I want to ask her for a job.”

I’m lost for words.

Any other time, I would’ve been elated to have her on the sales floor with me. We'd have fun together if we worked together.

But now?

I’ll spend my time with her at work. And most likely, the weekends and evenings with her at home.

She doesn’t go to school, but I do. And then, how am I supposed to talk to David?

I’m hyperventilating, although it looks like I’m frozen.

“Are you okay?” she asks, studying my face.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I was trying to think whether we had any openings.”

She flashes a smile and drops the kitchen towel on the counter.

“Don’t worry about that. Stores always have openings this time of year. I know how to land a job.”

I’m trying to remember when was the last time she landed one.

Anyway, propping my hand against the table, I suck in a long breath and think.

I need to take it one step at a time. But frankly, this doesn’t look good. I won’t be able to meet David, talk to him, or have virtual sex with him if she is with me all the time.

What a horrible friend I am.

I might need to tell her about him.

But I don’t want to.

I don’t want her to get involved in this. Things were all right in the past.

We went out, had fun, and commiserated over a pint of ice cream.

But this is different, and it requires my entire focus. David is not one of the guys I used to hang out with.

My chest hurts. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t stop her from doing what she wants without telling her about my life, which is out of the question.

So I’ll wing it.

Hopefully, something else catches her fancy soon, and she’ll go chasing that shiny object.