"She took me to the tiny parking lot. She couldn't look at me. I couldn't look at her. I don't remember exactly what she said, just that I ran. I ran to the hospital even though it was miles away. I had no idea what had happened, if my family was alive or dead."
He holds me closer.
"I knew it was bad from the way the nurse looked at me. But it didn't feel real. It felt like I was watching the whole thing on TV. Mom and Dad were dead on arrival. Lizzy was in the ICU. I stayed with her for a while. I only went home to change and shower. I slept in the waiting room. It was only a few days, but it felt like weeks. I would have been completely alone. I wouldn't have had anyone."
A drop falls on my leg. Another. My hand is shaking. Gin and tonic is spilling over the sides of the glass.
Blake takes my hand and pries my fingers from the glass. He sets it on the floor then intertwines his hand with mine.
His eyes meet mine.
It's a look I've never seen before. Not on him.
It's like he does love me.
Like the only thing he wants is my happiness.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "That must have been hard."
"There was no time for it to be hard. My parents didn't save for shit. They were in debt. Their life insurance was enough to get me through high school. Then to cover what my job didn't. But it wasn't enough."
"Were you eighteen?"
"Yeah. Thank God. We don't have any other family. Lizzy would have been in foster care if I didn't become her legal guardian."
He brushes the hair from my eyes. "It's okay to want a comfortable life."
"That was the last time I was free, that morning at the cross-country meet. It's not about the money, Blake. It's about the sense that I could do anything. I haven't felt that for a long time."
He nods.
"I want Lizzy to have that."
"Of course." He runs his fingers along my chin, tilting it so we're eye to eye. "You are free, Kat. I need you for a few months, but when we're not together, you're free to do whatever you want."
"As long as I keep up the right image."
"Your image is perfect." He stares into my eyes. "You're better than I ever imagined."
"At lying to people."
"If I was looking to fall in love, it would be with you." His hand brushes my cheek.
If he was going to fall in love it would be with me. What bullshit. He's not going to fall in love, so it's not going to be with me.
It's not a compliment. It's not comforting. Not unless I can convince myself it's more than a lie.
"Don't say things you don't mean." I slide to the other side of the couch.
"I never do." He moves closer. "I want you to feel better."
"I'm not going to feel better."
"I disagree." He pulls me onto his lap. Wraps his arms around my waist. "I'll get your mind off this."
"You can't appease me with sex," I say. "Is that the only way you can deal with people's emotions—pay them off or fuck them?"
His eyes flare with something I can't place. No, I know that look.
I'm right and he hates it.
He releases his grip. It makes me cold. Empty.
"You're right. I don't know how to make someone happy," he says. "But I do want you to be happy."
"Then don't say things like that. Don't act like you might love me."
He nods. "What do you want with my money?"
"I already told you."
"You want it for your sister. But what about for you?"
"What I told your mom. I want to go to college. Art school. I want to publish graphic novels. One day."
"Yours or others?"
"Both. I want to help people pour their soul onto the page. And share it with the world. I know it sounds cheesy. I guess it is. But that's what I want. I always thought I'd have to be an art teacher. Something like that. My parents were teachers. It's a good job. But not for me. I'm not good with people."
"You are."
"Maybe. But I prefer to work alone."
"That, I understand."
I can't help but laugh. "Do you have any friends?"
He arches a brow. "Is that an accusation?"
"No. I'm more… curious. You don't want a best man. There must not be anyone close to you."
"There isn't. Just my mother and my sister."
"Isn't that lonely?"
"I'm used to it." He looks up at me. "I know what you're going through taking on all that responsibility."
"Yeah?"
"My father wasn't just an asshole who drank himself to death. He took out his frustrations on my mother."
"Oh." My heart sinks. Poor Meryl.
"Once I was old enough to step in, he took them out on me." He looks at me. His voice fills with vulnerability. "I was fourteen when he died. I was relieved. The extra responsibility was nothing compared to how much I hated him."
"I'm sorry." My heart sinks for him too. I want to wipe his pain away. I want to prove that love doesn't have to be that ugly. I want to make the world a prettier place.
"Don't be. I'm glad he's gone."
"But I'm sorry you went through that. Love shouldn't hurt. Not like that."
He takes my hand. "It made me stronger. You lost parents who loved you. You lost something real. But it made you stronger."
I shake my head. "I'm not strong."
"You are."
A tear rolls down my cheek.
I miss my parents. There's still a hole in my heart. I never let myself feel it. I never let myself grieve the life I could have had.
Blake catches a tear on his thumb.
He leans in to press his lips to my forehead.
It's soft. Sweet. Loving.
I mumble into his neck. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"Thank you."
"What was it like? If you want to talk about it… You don't have to."
He pulls me closer. "I thought it was normal. That all houses were that full of hatred. My parents were always drinking. It gave her courage. It made him angry. It was a toxic combination. He'd threaten to hit her and she'd call him a coward. She'd dare him to do it."
"She was brave."
"But stupid." He drags his fingers through my hair. "I did the same thing when I stepped in. So he'd take out all his anger on me. The asshole didn't care who he hurt as long as he hurt someone."
I squeeze his hand. I don't know what to say. Only that I want to be here. To listen. To help him. To hold him.
"I didn't do enough to protect her or Fiona. I could have called the police. I could have cut his brake lines. I could have stopped him for good."
"That's a hell of a choice for a fourteen-year-old to make."
He shakes his head. His expression softens. His posture does the same.
It's like he's sinking into me.
I do the same. I melt into him.
We stay pressed together, breathing together, for a long time. The room is still. Silent. But it's comfortable.
I feel safe in his arms. Even with all this ugliness swirling around us.
He brushes my hair between my eyes. "I have a perfect distraction."
I wipe my eyes, willing my feelings back into the box where I usually stuff them.
"Or we can stay here."
I take his hand and rise to my feet. "Is it sex?"
He laughs. Actually laughs. God, it really is a nice laugh. He eyes crinkle. His cheeks spread to his ears.
He has a dimple.
It's the best thing I've ever seen.
I have my clarity.
I want to be by his side.
Whatever that means.
I take Blake's hand and follow him out of the room.
Chapter 23
The roof-access door is locked.
Of course, Blake has a key.
He squeezes my hand as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.
Moonlight falls over the concrete stairs. I grab onto the cold, steel railing as I climb the
steps.
There.
It's like I'm actually touching the sky. The tall buildings surrounding us look close enough to touch. The dark, grey clouds seem inches above me.
I feel like a superhero. Like I could bounce around these buildings, making the city mine.
It's colder than it was this afternoon, but it's not seeping into my veins. If anything, I'm hot.
The rooftop pool glows with an aqua sheen. It's a spot of brightness against the dull sky.
Light dances on the water. It casts strange lines over Blake's face.
He's watching me, studying my reaction. It's softer than normal. Sweeter.
"No one else has access to the roof," he says.
"So this is your private pool?"
"More or less."
He drops his keys on a little patio table. The guy maintains a pool on the roof of a damn skyscraper for kicks.
"Do you ever use it?" I ask.
"When I need to think."
"And how often is that?"
He smiles. Actually smiles. My heart goes into overdrive. It's like I'm a schoolgirl with a crush. Blake is smiling at me. Smiling. At. Me.
We're going to get married, and I'm atwitter over a smile.
I'm totally fucked.
"Your point is taken," he says.
"So I was right? You admit it."
He laughs. That's twice in one hour. It's a record.
He nods. "You getting in?"
"After you."
He pulls his t-shirt over his head.
I try not to gawk, but I can't help it. His body is a work of art.
There's no way I rejected his sexual advance minutes ago. That's impossible.
He slides out of his jeans. My gaze is drawn to his muscular thighs. His narrow hips. The cotton boxers…
I hate those cotton boxers.
I want to draw him from every possible angle. I want to capture every nuance of his body with my pencil.
"You look warm," he says.
"I'm fine."
He moves towards me. Unbuttons my coat and slides it off my shoulders.
I shiver but not from the cold. It's from the proximity. From his touch.
I pull my sweater over my head, then I reach for his boxers.
Blake shakes his head. He drops to his knees and unzips my boots. I step out of them, one at a time.
He lifts my foot to peel off my sock then does the same with my other leg.
His fingertips trail over the seam of my jeans, up my leg, over my sex, down my other leg.
Then back up again. He's careful about undoing my button and zipper.
He pushes my jeans—and my panties—to my ankles.
I step out of them. It's not nearly as graceful as his striptease. But it's effective.
I'm standing here in my bra.
He's in his boxers.
We've been naked together plenty, but this feel more intimate. More revealing.
Like we're finally showing each other our hearts.
He rises slowly.
He's inches away. Close enough we could kiss. Touch. Make love.
Silly me, it's not making love with Blake. It's fucking. He fucks. He doesn't love.
I send the word through a shredder and stuff it some place where it can't get to me.
Love isn't a part of this equation.
I'm going to come to terms with that.
Somehow.
I step back, undo my bra, and let it drop to the ground. I turn away, but I can feel Blake's gaze.
It sends heat racing through my body.
I move towards the pool and dip a toe. The water is warm. Inviting.
Blake slides out of his boxers. I can't stop myself from gawking. He really is perfect. He belongs in a museum. He should be an entire wing of the Met. He should replace David at Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence.
"Are you waiting for something?" he asks.
I shake my head.
Here goes nothing.
I jump into the pool.
Damn. That's intense.
The hairs on my neck stand up. I dunk my head. Underwater, everything is a blurry mess of blue-white.
The water rocks back and forth. There's a splash above me. Blake. He's in the pool with me.
I surface. He's five feet away, water dripping off his perfect shoulders.
He moves closer. "Distracted?"
I nod. "Thanks for listening before. And for talking… I almost believed you were my supportive fiancé."
His fingertips brush my chin.
I look up at him for as long as I can stand it. He's still intense, but there's a softness in his eyes. A sweetness.
My lungs work extra hard to find their next breath.
There's too much going on around me.
This pool is an oasis of calm. The eye of the storm, I guess. But it feels more like the storm itself. It feels like there's something raging inside me.
"I do care about you," he says.
"Yeah, I know we're not—well, I'm not sure what we are, but we're not lovers."
"I'll do anything I can to support you."
"What more could I ask for in a husband?" My voice cracks. I dive back under the water. The chlorine stings my eyes.
I can just make out the edges of Blake's body. They're blurry but they're still perfect.
I push off the concrete and glide towards the deep end. When I come up for air, Blake is staring at me. Fixed on me.
He moves closer.
Closer.
His wet hair is slicked back. It suits him, really, but so far I've never seen anything that doesn't suit him.
"Kat." His voice is sweet.
"I'm fine, thanks. Just thinking how lucky I am marrying such a supportive guy as a ruse. Luckiest girl in the world, really."
He studies me, deciding if he believes me. He nods like he does.
"You've never been in love," I say.
"Never."
"Nothing?"
"Never anything more than lust."
"Yeah, of course." I squeeze water from my hair. "Me either. I want to, one day, but it's not really a priority. I have to think about school and a career." I press my lips together. "Do you think it's because of your parents? That what they had was love taking an ugly turn?"
"I don't bother dwelling on the why." He runs a hand through my hair. "I've never seen love go any other way. Look at Fiona and Trey. They're miserable."
"My parents were in love. They were happy."
"How do you know for sure?" he asks.
"I do. Love isn't something you know. It's something you feel." My heart speeds up. My breath follows suit. "And it feels amazing. Warm and comfortable and perfect."
"You said you've never been in love."
Oh, yeah. I did say that. And it's true.
My cheeks flush. Heat spreads down my chest, through my stomach.
His stare disarms me.
It makes me feel even more naked.
I try to recapture my train of thought. "I've never been in love. But I have loved people. My sister. My parents. My grade school best friend. That feels good too."
His eyes stay fixed on mine. There's something on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down.
I dive under the surface and do a somersault.
The water is warm. Comfortable. It's everywhere, all around me. This is what love feels like. You're swallowed whole, but you know you're safe. You know it's going to be okay.
Not that I'm familiar with the concept.
Not that I'm falling in love with someone.
Not anything like that.
Chapter 24
We spend twenty minutes swimming around the pool. Clouds get darker, greyer. A drizzle turns into a downpour.
I ignore Blake's suggestion we leave. We're already in the pool. Rain isn't going to hurt us.
The sky flashes white. Lightning. Thunder booms a few seconds later. Okay, no more playing around. I don't need to be told that a pool on top of a st
eel tower is a bad place to hang out during a thunderstorm.
Blake helps me out of the pool. He sends me into the staircase naked and gathers our clothes alone. He's trying to protect me, but I'd rather share the risk of electrocution. I'd rather we work like an actual team.
The roof door pulls open and Blake steps inside.
He's in his boxers. He's holding the rest of his clothes to his chest.
He pulls my sweater over my head. It soaks up all the water dripping off my chest and shoulders. I'm a little warmer. But it's not enough. I'm still cold.
I take the stairs one at a time. My hand stays on the cold metal railing until I need to push the door open.
Only it's locked.
Blake is the only one with a key to the roof, but the door still locks automatically.
It's fitting.
He positions himself behind me, his chest pressed against my back. He's wet. Smooth. Hard.
His body feels good against mine.
I want to lose these clothes.
To lose track of words entirely.
He slides his hand over my mine. His breath warms my neck. I suck a deep breath through my nose. I will my nerves to settle.
They don't.
Blake offers me my panties. "I don't want you caught on tape. Unless that's a fantasy of yours."
"No." I don't think it is. I blush as I pull on my underwear. "Thanks."
He unlocks the door and presses it open.
It's just as cold in here. Goosebumps spread over my arms. My nipples get hard. I hug my chest, but it doesn't do enough to warm me up.
"Are you hungry?" he asks.
"I could eat." I'd rather fill another one of my needs, but I could eat.
He takes my hand and leads me to a break area. It's as sleek and modern as the rest of the office.
There's a thick white table, a kitchenette with stainless steel appliances, and a rectangular black couch. It would look great as the background of a panel, especially with the cloudy window.
I imagine the shading. The way Blake would be in the shadows. A bit of an obvious metaphor—the unknowable guy stepping out into the light—but it works.
Blake drops our clothes on the table. He kneels in front of a cabinet and pulls out a blanket. "We'll have to share." He hands it to me then points to the ceiling. "There are no cameras in this room if you want to change."
"Change?" I raise a brow.
He laughs. Actually laughs. "That too."
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