44. Renee

It’s been a couple days and Weston hasn’t called me over per the terms of our arrangement. I don’t really know if he’s rethinking it or if he too needs a bit of recuperation time. I had whisker burns on the inside of my thighs, so I’m not, like, the most upset.

But I haven’t seen him in that time, either. And I… miss him?

That can’t be right. But I can’t think of a better word.

When the doorbell rings, even though I’m expecting Michelle and Danni for brunch, I almost hope it’s him.

It’s not, of course. I open the door and find the girls. Michelle is holding champagne for our mimosas and Danni is bearing a fruit tray. I usher them in, sneaking one sidelong look at Weston’s closed door as I close mine.

We hug and air kiss the way we do these days, full-on European thanks to Sutton, who’s ringing in with a FaceTime so she can be here with us even though it’s dinner time in Paris.

I have food already on the table—a bowl of scrambled eggs and some air-fried bacon strips to go with the fried chicken and fixings I had delivered from a local spot a little earlier this morning.

Danni appraises the spread and nods. “Wow. How many people are invited? Or did you get a pet elephant you haven’t told us about?”

Laughing, I answer the video call from Sutton. Her face appears on the screen. “Hey, sunshine!” She’s in full makeup, although she’s wiping it off with a thick white washcloth that comes away streaked in tan and black. “Sorry. I just got finished shooting.”

“No problem,” I tell her. “The girls just got here.”

We chatter for a few minutes about the food and the champagne. She adjusts her phone and then starts changing out of her costume. When she’s wrapped in a fluffy white robe, she curls onto a small sofa and focuses. “So what’s new? How’s the simmering sexual tension? It reach a boil yet?”

I haven’t told anyone anything about me and Weston. But the blush on my cheeks does all the talking for me. In unison, Michelle, Danni, and Sutton all drop their jaws to the floor.

Michelle’s eyes bulge wide. “I thought you hated him!”

“In our last meeting, you called him a ‘jackass puck prick.’”

I smile at Danni. I was proud of that insult. “Oh, he very much is. He just happens to be very… anatomically pleasing.”

I leave it at that, although as far as understatements go, that one is a doozy. I’m still a little weak in the knees from what his tongue can do.

Sutton shakes her head and holds up her hands like she’s the traffic director and I’m a speeding car. “Woah. Please tell me that you used a condom. Or two. Or ten.”

This sounds insanely dumb, I know, but for the very first time, it occurs to me that we didn’t. With Felix, it hadn’t been an issue. He’d had a vasectomy before we were ever together—all the better for the human race—so I never had to worry about it. I guess I just… forgot? I don’t know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

“Oh. Oh. Oh, shit.”

The panic in my belly is spreading through my entire body. Every cell is infected by it and I can’t catch a breath. The last thing I need is a baby with a guy who will tell the world that I did it to trap him.

I push the thoughts from my mind. I add one more “Oh, shit” for good measure and fan myself with my hand. Suddenly, the room is too hot and the walls are closing in.

“Simmer down, Nay. It’s okay.” Danni lays her hand on my shoulder. “You run to the drug store, get yourself a Plan B, and it’ll be fine.”

“Plan B. Oh yeah. Right.” I’m certainly not the first girl in the world who forgot to make the dude she’s sleeping with put on a condom.

I make a mental note to re-up my birth control, and later, I’m going to buy a couple boxes of condoms. We don’t need any surprises. This arrangement is complicated enough as it is.

We’re all silent for a couple minutes before Michelle looks at me side-eyed. “Don’t hate me for asking this, but… was he good? He looks like he would be good.”

I don’t know the rules for stuff like this. Is it okay to talk about? He hasn’t said that I can’t. He also hasn’t said that I can. But he has to know that girls talk. And it’s not like I’m going to say anything bad. There’s literally nothing bad to say.

“He was… amazing,” I gush. “I mean, dear heaven, that man has skills.”

Danni slaps me with her napkin. “That figures. I haven’t had a good boink in weeks and you waltz ass-backwards into some. I hate you.”

It wasn’t quite so easy, but I spare her the details. Mostly because I don’t really have a firm grasp on them myself.

I just smile and nod. “I’m just a lucky girl, I guess.”

When they leave for the day, I don’t waste any time—I head straight for the drug store and pick up a box of Plan B. It says I have three days to use it after unprotected sex, so I’m still in the window. Thank God.

I continue skimming the back of the box in the elevator and as I step out into the hallway.

“Hey, beautiful.” I look up as Jackson smiles. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” I shove the box back into the bag and hold it in a death grip as if he might reach out and try to snatch it from me. “You heading back to Hawaii?”

I don’t see a suitcase, but I haven’t talked to him in a few days because I gave Weston my word. It was easy to keep that word since I haven’t seen Jackson since then.

“Not yet.” His gaze blazes up and down my body. I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, certainly nothing provocative, but he whistles low. “Do you ever get tired of guys looking at you and whistling?”

I laugh. It’s a line, and like all the other lines he whips out, if anyone else said it, it would sound smarmy. But he sounds sincere, as if he’s really wondering. Charmers like Jackson Yates have a way of making their pickup lines sound natural.

I shake my head. “Jackson, I just wanted to say… I’m involved with someone.” I’m sneaking glances at Weston’s door every few seconds. Not exactly subtle, but I don’t want Weston to come out and see me breaking the rules we’ve established. “I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.”

He nods glumly and snaps his fingers. “Dammit. I knew I should’ve snatched you up when I had the chance.”

I smile. “Sorry. You’re really sweet.”

“It’s the Neanderthal, isn’t it?” He motions toward Weston’s apartment. His gaze lingers there for a moment and I swear I see a hint of something strange when the clouds in his eyes part. Under his breath, he mumbles, “I should’ve never cheated on Molly. I didn’t know a good thing when I had it.”

I freeze. I wish I knew how to describe his voice. The words themselves are regretful, strictly speaking, but the tone is more… like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Like, the kid isn’t mad he went for it; he’s just mad he didn’t get to have his cake and eat it, too.

I nod because I don’t know what else to do. At the end of the day, I don’t know Jackson and he doesn’t know me. We’re just temporary neighbors.

With a shrug and a sigh, he climbs into the elevator and waves as the doors close. I don’t know if I believe his remorse any more than I believe his cheesy pickup lines, but the dreamer in me wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe he knows what he did was wrong and he regrets it.

Because somewhere out there is a hurt woman. A hurt, devastated woman who was left bleeding alone on the worst day of her life.

Maybe believing that Jackson learned from his mistakes isn’t enough.

Maybe some sins just aren’t forgivable.

Instead of dawdling in the hallway and wishing on shooting stars for Weston to emerge from his cave, I walk into Sutton’s place and shut the door behind me. The window on the amount of time for this medicine to be effective is closing and I don’t want to miss it.

I walk inside, take the pill, and toss the box. Only when it’s down the hatch can I breathe a sigh of relief.

One less thing I have to worry about. Thank heavens.