“It’s always only been you,” he whispered.
“Funny,” I returned instantly. “When I was getting thoroughly and satisfyingly fucked against a wall last night, it wasn’t even a little bit about you.”
He flinched.
I didn’t feel that flinch.
I was over this.
All of it.
All of Tommy, our tragic history, or nonexistent future.
All of everything.
I couldn’t let it hurt me anymore.
I had to move on.
“I’m sure you have work to do,” I noted leadingly.
“Liv—”
I knew my face shut down to the extent it shut him out because I made it so.
“You need to go and do it, Tommy,” I ordered.
His mouth went hard.
We stared at each other.
I tried to recall his face those days in Baja when we were happy. When we thought we’d made it. When we were sure we were free.
I couldn’t pull up that first vision.
His wife, my cousin, was pregnant with his baby.
Yes, time to move on.
I watched as Tommy nodded and walked out the door.
I turned and bent to my computer, putting the files I needed on a flash drive.
While I was doing this, my cell sounded.
I looked at it and saw a text that simply had a number on it.
Sebring.
Hotel Teatro.
The room number.
I stared at the phone.
I would never have anything minimally real and somewhat normal with anyone. Not Nick Sebring. Not anyone.
What I could have with anyone I wanted, absolutely anyone, was a fantastic fuck.