look creepy.”
“I was thinking.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t read into it, and yes, I actually do, but I have a better idea.”
“I’m not spending the night.”
I grinned. “I didn’t hear myself asking you.”
She jerked back.
Shit.
“Don’t look so offended. You know you would have said no anyways.” I licked my lips. “Right?”
She rocked back on her heels. “Right. Totally.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached for her hand. “So I’ve been on a forced vacation by the board of my own company. Seems like they’re afraid I’m going to have a nervous breakdown, and before you ask, no, I’m not going to have a breakdown, they’re just paranoid and think I need time, blah, blah, fuckity-blah—” I shrugged. “We need a space where we can work without being interrupted or seen, right?”
She nodded. “Social media can be . . . ruthless.”
“Great. So we work here, order takeout, put in long hours—something I’m very used to doing—and get the book done. Then you go back to your life, and I go back to mine.” I smiled, sealing the deal. “Easy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a catch here.”
“No catch. I want to help you. I at least owe you that since we aren’t going back to the cabin, though you should know it’s yours for whenever you want to continue your vacation, or I’ll just reimburse what you paid.”
She looked skeptical.
Shit, was I selling her too hard?
“What would you possibly get out of helping me? I feel like I owe you something. I mean I was serious when I asked. I just didn’t think you’d be bored enough to say yes.”
“It’s not boredom,” I said smoothly.
“Then what is it?”
Lie.
Lie.
Lie.
But I couldn’t. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I knew I couldn’t do it, not to her face. “You. I get to spend time with you.”
A tentative smile grew. “You realize you don’t get sex every time you finish a chapter.”
“Absolutely.” I nodded seriously. “As long as you realize you don’t get anything until you say the magic words.”
“‘Please’?”
“You’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“Good.” I winked. “Now let me call the car. I expect you to be here at nine in the morning with donuts.”
“Wait, why am I bringing the donuts?” she wondered out loud as I typed a text to my driver, who was probably downstairs waiting out of sheer habit.
“You’re the one who needs help. Ergo you bring the donuts for me to consume, and I’ll try to call it even.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, right, a businessman calling us even over donuts? Why don’t I believe you?”
“Why, I don’t have the faintest clue.” I leaned close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Be safe.”
Her eyes softened. “I always am.”
I didn’t want to let her go.
I wanted to convince her that she should stay, preferably in my bed. I wanted to ask her if I could hold her, and pathetically enough I was so desperate I would even just take her friendship over anything else.
She left.
The door shut with finality behind her.
And I was blanketed in the depths of my own loneliness and mistakes once again, stuck wondering if my mom was watching, if she had been instrumental in bringing this woman into my life, and wishing like hell she was there so she could give me some wisdom on how to keep her.
A grieving girl who worshipped Noah.
A grieving man who missed his mom.
The only thing we had in common was our grief and money.
Maybe that would be enough.
For now.
Maybe for now was all I needed.
I grabbed the rest of the champagne from outside and carried it into my bedroom. I drank from the bottle and winced, even though I was doing what I typically did every night. Because tonight was different, it was my birthday, so I tortured myself with memories by clicking to the saved video on my TV.
With tears in my eyes, I watched my mom sing “Happy Birthday” to me at the cabin on my tenth birthday.
“Happy birthday to you! And you!” She burst out laughing as Bridge and I fought over the cake, and then she held up two forks. “Before you dig in, I have to make my speech.”
“Aw, Mom!” Bridge groaned. “We have the speech memorized!”
“Can’t we just eat?” I said in a whiny voice that made me want to punch my ten-year-old self. “It’s gonna melt!”
“It won’t melt, it’s not ice cream cake,” Mom scolded. “Now listen, one day you’re going to be old like me, one