Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  His face darkens. “Yes I do.”

  “That was ten years ago. Isn’t it possible I’ve changed? Matured? Are you the man you were ten years ago?”

  “What do you fucking think?”

  I sit back. My dad rarely curses at me. It makes me want to slink off to my room, especially because he’s right. Why would he be the same after losing the love of his life? “I’m sorry,” I say. “Of course you’re not.”

  “If you stop your meds, then what? You’ll be fine? Do you honestly believe that?”

  I open my mouth to argue. I’m tired of them doubting me and pointing out my shortcomings at every turn. Yes, I believe I’ll be fine.

  Won’t I?

  You’re troubled. You make bad decisions.

  I’ve heard it since I was fifteen.

  The truth is, I don’t know if it’s wrong. It could be right.

  “I’ll worry about you more than I already do,” Dad says. “At least with Rich, I know someone else is looking out for you. With Christmas coming up, and—and the anniversary—if you’re off your treatment and alone . . . I don’t know that I can take it.”

  My chest hurts. I can’t do this to him. His vulnerability is hard-earned, a privilege, and I can’t just turn a blind eye to it. But I can’t give myself up, either, or say goodbye to Finn knowing how good it is with him. “I’m stopping the drugs,” I say firmly. “It’s time.”

  He sighs. “That alone is enough for you to handle. You don’t need a stressful breakup on top of that. Who knows? Maybe this will be the thing that changes your feelings about Rich.”

  It’s the only option if I want to give my dad some relief during the hardest time of the year. Not just any year. The tenth year.

  “Will you try to make it work with him one more time, Banana? For me?”

  How can I say no?

  14

  After an unsettling conversation with my dad about resuscitating my dead relationship, Rich is the last person I want to see. But there he is when I leave Dad’s office, perched on the secretary’s desk, talking to her.

  He looks up. “Should I go back in?”

  I start for the elevator. “No.”

  “What happened?” he asks, catching up with me as the doors open.

  I wait until we’re alone to speak. “You and I are getting back together—”

  “We are?” Rich raises his eyebrows. “Talk about finding the right approach. Your dad’s even smoother than I thought.”

  “It’s only as far as my dad knows.”

  “What?”

  “We’re not really getting back together. This is an awful time of year for my dad and me. I don’t have to tell you that. My dad feels better when you’re looking after me, so we’re going to let him believe you are.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that.”

  The elevator stops on our floor. “It’s not up for negotiation.”

  “Why can’t I just take care of you for real? Have I not done a good job of that?”

  “You have,” I say, “but I—I want more. I want to . . .”

  “What?” he asks.

  Saying what I want aloud isn’t easy. It’s not only hurtful to Rich, but it’s embarrassing to admit, even though I doubt he’d mock me. The doors close. “I want to be in love.”

  He frowns but takes my hand. “I know we don’t have the most affectionate relationship, but I thought that worked for us.”

  “It does. It did.”

  “I’ll try harder to show I care.”

  I shake my head. “I want to feel more than just contentment about my life. This works out for both of us, Rich.” I hit the button for our floor to get the doors to open again. “I get to keep my dad happy through the holidays, and you remain in good standing with him. I suggest you use this time to make yourself indispensable—some other way than through me.”

  “So that’s it?” The doors start to close, but he catches them. A few people in the office look up. Rich lowers his voice. “I don’t want to lie to him.”

  “You will if you want all three of us to get through—” Pain shoots through my head. I grab the rail as sudden pressure weighs on the bridge of my nose.

  “Are you okay?” Rich asks.

  I swallow a few times, and the stabbing pain subsides, disappearing as quickly as it came on. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  I’d read that there’d be some physical side effects to lowering my dosage. I wanted to rip the Band-Aid off, though. Ten years is coming up soon, and I can’t be a person who’s been medicated an entire decade. At this rate, I can ring in the new year feeling like a new person.

  I push past Rich and get off the damn elevator. My temples throb with the start of a headache, so I go to my office and shut the door. I turn out the glaring lights and open the blinds instead.

  Once I’m in my desk chair, I close my eyes. My dad’s disappointment is tangible. He’s right to be upset. I’ve broken an unspoken agreement. He gives me money, a stable future, my choice of job, and in return, I’m a good daughter who doesn’t make waves. It’s a cycle I’m not sure should continue, but the thought of breaking it makes my scalp hot. It could be the best decision I’ve made in years—or the worst. I need something to calm myself down. I go to buzz Benny, but a knock at my door comes first.

  “Go away, Rich.”

  “But I have coffee,” Benny says in a deep voice, a horrible attempt to impersonate Rich. She laughs. “Rich said I should bring you some.”

  Damn it. He knew what I’d need. Why can’t he just get angry with me like a normal ex? Why does he have to be kind while I’m trying to abandon him? “Bring the whole pot. No—get the entire machine.”

  My chin trembles. I don’t know why doing what’s best for myself means I need to be a bad daughter and ex-girlfriend. I don’t normally seek comfort in Rich when I’m upset, or anyone really since my mom. My dad’s too practical. He only wants to hear enough to fix the problem. In a way, my journals have been my confidantes, even when I only write a line or two. Now, someone else has read them. Someone else has seen me, stuck around, and wants to know me.

  I get my phone from my handbag. I don’t need to spill my sorrows to Finn. We aren’t at that place yet. But just saying hi, just knowing I’ll see him tonight, will be enough for now. I press the Home button. I have five new texts from Finn in the last two hours, and I can’t help the grin that overtakes my face. I type in my passcode and start with the first message.

  Haven’t stopped thinking about last night since . . . last night.

  You coming here straight from work? Or wanna get dinner first?

  We could also order in. I’ve taken all the necessary “precautions” for a night in.

  I smile. He got the condoms. Oh, the delicious positions he had me in last night—against his studio wall, on my knees for him, spread out on his kitchen table. I bite my bottom lip against the assault of flashbacks. I’m not sure if I’m more aroused by the ways he made me come, or by watching him furiously get himself off in the shower this morning when he thought I was asleep.

  I scroll down, hoping for more of what we’ll do when I walk through his door.

  I have to cancel tonight. I’m sorry. Don’t come.

  Halston? I need to know you saw my last message. Please don’t come by my place. K?

  My heart drops. What happened within an hour that made him change his mind? I re-read all the texts. Is it because I took so long to respond? Is he having second thoughts?

  My eyes well with a fresh round of tears.

  I can’t do this. I can’t be so attached to Finn already that his rejection is like a knife between the ribs. I tap out a response I can’t even read through my blurry vision.

  I saw

  I lay my head on my forearms and give in to my sobs. I don’t understand what changed. His words were so short. Cold. As if me not going over there is more important than how he’s just made me feel.

  When my phone buzzes a
gain, I’m torn between snapping it up to read his response and pushing it over the side of the desk into the garbage. I can’t handle any other response than “just kidding.”

  A knock on the door momentarily decides for me. I stand up to cross the office. Thank God for coffee—it’s never let me down. Well, except the time a barista served me decaf by accident, and I spent the following hours confused and lonely before I realized what’d happened. And yes, liquids can let a person down. Wine has. Wine has fucked me over in the past, but rarely coffee.

  I open the door just enough for Benny to pass the decanter and machine through. “I’ll set it up for you,” she says instead.

  “I can handle it.”

  She purses her lips. “You look like you’re about to jump out your window. I’m coming in, or the coffee goes bye-bye.”

  I roll my eyes and step aside. She sets the coffee maker on my desk and plugs it in.

  “Wow,” I say. “I’m glad you were here. How would I have managed without you?”

  She smirks. “Damn. I forgot a mug.”

  I pull out two from a bottom desk drawer.

  “I should’ve known,” she says.

  “Yep. You should have,” I tease, passing them to her.

  “So, what’d your dad say?” she asks as she pours the coffee. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. I’ve never heard you cry. What’d he say to you?”

  I take a comforting sip. “Can you keep a secret? Like, this isn’t office gossip, not even my dad can find out.”

  She nods. “Hit me.”

  “Rich and I broke up,” I say.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Seriously.” She gapes at me. Am I the only one who sees Rich and I aren’t actually that good together? “I mean, I know Rich is great and all, but I don’t think he and I—”

  She waves a hand at me. “No, it’s not that. I just can’t believe he’s why you’re bawling. Your relationship seems so cut and dry.”

  “Oh.” I sit back against the lip of the desk. “So you’re not surprised it’s over?”

  She looks into her mug. “Should I not have said that? Since you’re my boss?”

  “No, it’s . . . it’s okay. It’s good. I was worried for a minute that everyone would think this was a mistake but me.”

  She shrugs. “If you’re not into it, why does it matter what anyone else says?”

  For a split second, I consider telling her about Finn. It’s not really the kind of relationship she and I have, and I’m not even sure how she’d respond, but it would be nice to let my hair down and bitch. To share how completely blindsided I feel by his sudden flip in personality.

  I pick up my phone and read his message.

  I’m sorry. I’ll explain next time I see you.

  Next time I see you? Is he implying maybe he’ll see me, maybe not? This is a complete one-eighty from this morning. I didn’t peg Finn to be the one-night stand type. We didn’t even have sex.

  “So how long’s it been since you were single?” Benny asks.

  I’ve had my fill of men for today. I put the phone down and return my attention to Benny. “Do you want to grab a drink?”

  * * *

  The bartender sets three martinis on the bar, one in front of each of us. “Extra dirty,” he says. “From the dude in the suit.”

  “Which dude?” Benny asks. “They’re all in suits.”

  I slow-blink at the bartender, pointing at my half-empty drink. “But I haven’t even finished this one.”

  He shrugs as Benny laughs. “If I finished all the drinks men bought me, I’d never be upright.”

  “I think that’s the point . . .?” Cara says.

  Benny elbows her. “You know what I mean.”

  I could get used to this girlfriend thing. I’m on my third cocktail of the night, and each one has been paid for by a different guy. Benny has serious flirtation skills. It could also be the slight Latin accent that flavors her words. Or her long, richly brown hair.

  “Cara’s sleeping with her manager,” Benny explains, “otherwise she’d be more fun tonight.”

  “At the firm?” I ask.

  “No, I work nights at a restaurant in Meatpacking. I’d never sleep with the misogynistic asshole lawyers I work for. Dan’s a misogynistic asshole, but at least he’s not a lawyer.”

  “She’s exaggerating,” Benny says. “Dan’s sweet, she just doesn’t like people to know it.”

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask Benny.

  “Pssh. What boyfriend? I’ve been playing the field since college.”

  “Oh. Rich mentioned one.”

  Benny frowns and puts a hand on my shoulder. “He flirted with me once while he was waiting for you to come back from a meeting. It was harmless, but I said I had a boyfriend just to make things easy.”

  Rich hit on her? He rarely even attempts to flirt with me. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That must’ve been awkward, getting seduced by boss’s boyfriend. You should’ve told me.”

  She waves me off. “I handled it fine.”

  “Who’s Rich?” Cara asks. “The guy you just broke up with?”

  Benny nods. “Her dad likes him.”

  Cara cringes.

  “That’s supposed to be a good thing,” I point out.

  “Not in your twenties. Now’s the time to get back at dad for all the ways he fucked you up, and the men you date are your best weapons.”

  “Huh.” I pick up my fresh martini. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “So our mission is to find you a guy Mr. Fox would hate,” Benny says.

  I’ve already accomplished that. Finn’s several years older than me and a struggling artist with an ex-wife. He also doesn’t put me in a box. Nothing about that would appeal to my dad. I shift on the barstool.

  “Or maybe she’s already found one?” Cara asks, eyeing me.

  I smile into my drink for a full second before I remember how Finn blew me off. “Actually . . .” I look up. “I need advice.”

  “You already met someone?” Benny gasps. “You were fooling around on Rich! And that’s why you broke up. Did he catch you in the act? Were you buck naked, sprawled out on some burgundy leather couch I’m sure Rich has in his apartment—”

  “No, no, no,” I sputter, trying not to laugh. I’m supposed to be pissed at the men in my life, but Benny’s right—Rich does love burgundy leather. “I didn’t cheat on him.” For the first time, I’m glad Finn had the sense to stop me so I wouldn’t have to lie about it. “This guy’s been pursuing me, but—”

  “Sleep with him,” Benny says. “Those rules about waiting are bull.”

  “I would,” I say. “In fact, we . . . we had this amazing night last night.”

  “You whore,” Cara cries.

  Benny shoves her so hard, she almost topples off the stool. “You don’t know her well enough to call her a whore, and by the way, she’s my boss.”

  I force a smile. I think Cara’s teasing me—she’s laughing. But nobody’s ever called me a whore, joking or otherwise. “It’s fine. I can take it.”

  “So, you banged,” Benny urges me on. “Then what?”

  “I stayed over, but we didn’t bang. We just had a great night, like really really great.”

  Cara nods knowingly. “Good call. Keep him on his toes.”

  “Was it, though?” I ask. “We made plans for this weekend, but he just canceled on me out of the blue.”

  Cara and Benny exchange a look. “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him?”

  I scoff-laugh. “Of course I’m sure. I think I’d know.”

  “Hmm.” Cara plants her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “No. He’s very anti-cheating, which is one reason we haven’t slept together. Because of Rich. He has an . . . ex-wife.”

  “Damn,” Benny says. “He’s older?”

  I nod. “Early t
hirties, I think.”

  Cara rubs her palms together. “Now we’re talking. Older men are fucking awesome. Chances are, he isn’t dicking you around. Did he say why he had to cancel?”

  “No.”

  “So it wasn’t a girlfriend,” Benny tells Cara, squinting as if she’s scheming.

  Cara shakes her head. “Most likely not a blow off, either, since he didn’t even get laid yet.”

  I take a long pull from my straw before I point out, “Not afraid of commitment. He’s been married.”

  “This is going to bother me,” Cara says. “Let’s get a second opinion.”

  “Good idea.” Benny sits up on her stool, scans the crowd, and waves at a pair of men. They come right over.

  “Hi,” Benny says. “This is Cara, Halston, and I’m Benny.”

  “Nice to meet you,” says the dark-haired one. “I’m Jude, and this is Matt. Are you ladies—”

  “How old are you guys?” Cara asks.

  Matt rubs the back of his neck. “Uh . . . don’t worry, we’re legal.”

  Cara smirks. “We’re conducting research, and we’re looking for men in their thirties.”

  “You’re in luck,” Jude says, raising his glass. “We’re both thirty.”

  “Excellent. My friend here,” Cara gestures at me, “had a great date with a guy in his thirties, didn’t sleep with him, and made plans for a second date, but he canceled last minute.”

  The guys shrug. “Something probably came up.”

  “And?” Benny asks.

  “And what?” Matt turns to me. “Have you asked him?”

  Everyone else turns to me.

  I stir my drink. “It didn’t really seem like he was open to talking about it.”

  “Then he has a girlfriend,” Matt says.

  “He’s divorced.” Benny shakes her head. “Unless—maybe he was burned by his ex, and he freaked out.”

  “Yes,” Cara shouts. “That’s it. He’s not ready to jump into the next relationship. Right, guys?”