by Sam Mariano
“Hookers probably make better money for less work,” I point out. Trying to keep him focused, I point toward the shower. “Get clean. I’m going to try to find the kitchen. Your house is ridiculous, by the way. Unless you have Snow White and the Seven Dwarves living here with you, I don’t know why you need this much space.”
“Need is a strong word,” he murmurs, looking down as he starts to unbutton his dress shirt. “I like my space.”
And that’s my cue to leave. I slip out before he can give me even more to torture myself with. I put his cheesecake in the refrigerator, triple wrap his drug mirror and razor blade in trash bags and take them out to my car (safer to throw it in the Dumpster at my apartment complex than the can at the end of his personal driveway), and grab him a bottle of water.
By the time I get back up to his bedroom, he is emerging from the bathroom with nothing more than a towel around his narrow hips. Fabulous. He’s going to have to take that off to climb into bed, even if he sleeps naked. I’m going to have to use every ounce of self-control I have, because I do not need to know what Rafe’s dick looks like.
His bed is already made perfectly, so I draw back the blanket for him for him to climb in. I hear the towel hit the floor behind me and I tense, trying to keep my eyes averted.
Please don’t look, Virginia. Please don’t look.
Rafe sounds amused. “Are you shy?”
“Shy and wholesome, that’s me. Get on the bed and cover up so I can look at you.”
“I’m not shy,” he informs me. “I don’t care if you look.”
“I care. Cover up.”
He sighs like I’m a pain in the ass, but I hear a rustling of fabric anyway and when I steal a peek, he’s under the blankets. Much better. Some of his toned chest is visible and that’s more than I need to see, so I do my best to concentrate on his face as I take a seat on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him.
“I’m fine, Virginia,” he assures me.
I indicate the bottle of water I put on his end table. “All right. Well, there’s cheesecake in your refrigerator, water here in case you get thirsty, and your paperwork is in the folder on top of your dresser. I don’t know where your phone is. Do you want me to find it and put it on charge?”
“I threw it in a fountain,” he says casually.
“Oh. Okay. Well, in that case, finding it is a little beyond my abilities. You’re going to have to get a new phone.”
He smirks at me. “I’m aware.”
Glancing down at the bedding rather than his face, I tell him, “I’m sorry Cassandra is an evil swamp monster. I’d offer to seduce her slutty new boyfriend for you, but I don’t have Rafe Morelli charisma. It probably wouldn’t work.”
“Just break out your Christina Aguilera dance moves, you can reel him in.”
I grin up at him. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work.”
Rafe isn’t looking at me though. Even though he was joking a moment ago, now he’s lost in thought. “I’ll have more power than he has someday. She’ll wish she had stayed, and it’ll be too late.”
“She’ll wish she had stayed for a million reasons. The measure of power you possess shouldn’t even make the list.”
His lips curve up faintly, but more with cynicism than amusement. “Power matters.”
“You matter more,” I say simply. “If she didn’t think so, then she doesn’t deserve you.”
He reaches his hand out, caressing the side of my face. “You’re sweet.”
He may be the one on drugs tonight, but I’m the one who breathes in his tantalizing scent like an addict. I’m so tempted to turn my face and kiss his hand. I need to get the hell out of here. Before I go, I can’t resist taking just a little memory for myself. Chances are, he won’t remember any of this come tomorrow anyway. With that thought in mind, I reach out and run my fingers through his hair while I hold his gaze. I’ve always wanted to do this. Never thought I’d get the chance.
I can already feel what a bad idea it is. Tomorrow when nothing comes of this, I will be left with meaningless memories—but they’ll mean too much to me. Last time it wasn’t damaging. Last time it didn’t matter. If anything, my admiration for Rafe makes it easier to go to work every day. Most people have to drag themselves to work, but I’m happy to be there. I’m happy to be doing something that, at least to me, feels in service to Rafe. I maintain my harmony by not being too greedy, though.
Right now Rafe’s heart is broken. He’s not ready to fall in love again. Even if it could ever be me, it can’t be right now. He isn’t in the right place. His heart needs time to heal, and he needs to get to a place where he’d rather have me and my cheesecake than all the Jessica Rabbits in the world.
That’s never going to happen, Virginia.
No, probably not.
That’s okay. I’m not planning on it. I’m not going to want more than I know I can have. That’ll make me miserable.
That also means I need to stop touching his hair, remove his hand from my face, and get the everloving fuck out of his bedroom. I drag my hand away, resisting the temptation to touch his face. I’m only human, and he’s not even in his right mind. I don’t need to be giving him ideas, because I don’t have much resistance left in me tonight.
“Get some sleep,” I tell him, standing. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
I nearly make it to the door before he says, “Sure you don’t want to stay?”
Damn him. I brace a hand on the wall, trying to draw strength out of the drywall. Is there any way I could? Is there any way this would work?
No, it won’t. I want it to, but it won’t. Rebounds rarely last, especially for men. My feelings for him sprung out of a break-up, but it was an entirely different situation. He swept in like a knight in shining armor and unwittingly rose up on a pedestal. He became my hero, my example of a man who would never let me down. And he never has.
But he will, if I stay tonight, because I want things he is in no condition to offer. If he still wants me once he’s past Cassandra, that would be a different thing, but he only wants me right now because his heart hurts and I’m here. An hour ago, he wanted the crackwhore.
Somehow I find just enough resolve to look at him over my shoulder, offer a little smile, and tell him, “Not tonight.”
1
Rafe
I love fucking. I love everything about it—the sights, the sounds, the smells, the taste. Especially the fucking sounds. The wet, sloppy sound of my sizable cock gliding in and out of the wet pussy of a moaning woman—that’s paradise, right there.
Haven’t been to paradise lately. I’m not even sure why I’m abstaining at this point. When everything went to hell with my personal and professional life, I realized I needed to get my shit together. Between the whirlwind of Laurel Price’s burgeoning womb, the reappearance of Cassandra Carmichael, and the minor annoyance of Sin murdering the cute little waitress I had my eye on, I realized my shit was out of control. Business needed my focused attention, and I needed to clean my fucking palette where women were concerned.
So, here I am, cleaning my palette. Only I’m not sure when it’s supposed to end. On one hand, I could end it right now with a text message or two, but now that I’ve abstained from fucking casually for a while, I can’t help feeling like maybe I’m waiting for something.
It’s probably Laurel’s damn voice in my head, urging me to invite Virginia to family dinner. Maybe even the memory of my panic when I thought Sin fired his gun at her. He’d only been faking me out, but it worked. To be perfectly honest, there are not many women in the world I would give up guaranteed safety to try to save, and even up until that moment, I didn’t realize Virginia was one of them.
I guess I should have. Now I’m realizing out of all the women that blow in and out of my life, if they all disappeared, Virginia is one of the few I would miss.
Every time I think about ending my dry spell now, I wonder if there’s any chance Laurel is ri
ght. She insists Virginia doesn’t enjoy my bringing an endless string of women in here, that Virginia likes me more than I think she does. I’m not an idiot, I know Virginia likes me, but she doesn’t like me the way other women do. It has never bothered her before if I brought my dates here, so maybe I’m overthinking it. Putting too much stock in Laurel’s theories. Maybe Virginia wouldn’t care, but if she does, to be honest, it’s not worth it to me to offend her. If she would feel disrespected by me bringing them in, then I won’t. I like Virginia, she’s a good kid, and loyal as hell. I love that. Especially after the upheaval of my life these past few months, loyalty looks damn good to me.
Virginia’s also pretty easy to please, and I love easy. Easy is fucking underrated. My favorite part of every week is this part right here, because it’s fucking easy. No pussy involved, but eager service, and that’s the next best thing.
Ordinarily Sin, Laurel and their baby would be here on Sunday nights for family dinner, but tonight I’m alone. Virginia approaches my booth with a smile on her face, her order pad in one hand, my drink in the other. “All by yourself tonight?”
Contentment washes over me as she leans over and nudges my drink across the table. “Just me tonight.”
“Is Laurel feeling okay?” she asks. “When I talked to her earlier, she thought she might be having contractions, so I thought dinner might be canceled tonight.”
My mind drifts to one of the many events that changed the entire course of my life—the impregnation of Laurel Price. Right now she’s in a hospital, ready to have my baby. In most cases it would make me a pretty sizable dick to be sitting down to dinner while that’s happening, but Sin is there with her, and he’s got much more experience at this sort of thing; she doesn’t need me.
Instead of answering Virginia’s question, I tell her, “Yeah, I think family dinners will probably be canceled for a couple weeks. I can’t imagine she’ll want to come out to eat with Skylar and a newborn.”
“Well, she won’t want to cook, either,” Virginia advises. “That poor girl is going to have two babies to juggle. You guys should do take-out next week. I’m so excited. I can’t wait for pictures. He’s going to be the cutest baby ever.” Taking her phone out of her apron, she swipes a few times, then holds it up for me to see a picture of a white onesie that says “best gift ever” in red and green. “I’m taking this to the hospital as soon as he’s born.”
A Christmas baby. Well, almost. Christmas is in three days. It got me out of going anywhere for the holiday, so I’m thankful for that.
“Did you get the baby a present?” she asks me, smiling brightly. I don’t know why she’s so eager for me to have a baby. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with her. Barely has anything to do with me. I know she and Laurel are friends, but Virginia has never struck me as baby crazy.
Smiling faintly, I remark, “I gave him life. Does that count?”
Cocking an unimpressed eyebrow, she shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t count.”
“I don’t know what newborns like. They like boobs and sleeping.”
“So you have something in common already,” she quips. “You need to get him something to take to the hospital. A soft blanket, a special toy—something.”
“Trust me, the kid already has everything it needs. Between Carly, Mia, and Laurel, Sin practically had to build an addition onto his house for all the baby stuff.”
“You are the father,” she informs me, like this is news.
Rearing back in theatrical surprise, I say, “I am?”
Virginia rolls her eyes. “Unbelievable. I’m bringing you artichokes for dinner. Just artichokes. Nothing else.”
“Actually, I think you’ll bring me steak and asparagus,” I tell her, glancing around the empty restaurant. “It’s dead in here tonight. Get yourself some food too, take a break. Eat dinner with me.”
“Really? All right,” she says, after a moment’s hesitation. “While we eat, I can show you some good baby gift ideas on my phone.”
Women and babies, Jesus Christ. I relent. “Fine, you can pick out a baby gift and I’ll give you money to buy it.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Nodding toward the kitchen, I tell her, “Chop chop.”
For all her talk, she doesn’t harass me about the baby immediately upon having a seat. Instead of taking her apron off like a civilized person, she keeps it on, just in case she has to get up and go serve someone else. There’s another waitress who can handle it, so I take the liberty of pulling the string loose and tugging it off her while she reaches for a dinner roll.
“This feels a little light,” I remark, giving her black apron a shake before depositing it on the empty side of the booth.
“Like you said, it’s dead in here. Who do you think is tipping me, the dishwasher?”
“Maybe. How are you passing the time?”
She cracks a smile and grabs a butter knife. “Not by taking my clothes off.”
“That’s the problem,” I tell her. “Can’t expect the kitchen staff to tip you if you don’t take your clothes off.”
“I’ll make a note of that for the next slow night,” she assures me.
“See, I’m looking out for you.”
Virginia peeks over at my steak as I cut into it, making sure it’s cooked right. Seeing it is, she turns her attention back to her own food. She ordered a steak too, and now she smears the butter she didn’t put on her dinner roll all over the broccoli.
“Stop watching me,” she says, cutting a look my way. “I feel like you’re judging my eating habits.”
“I am,” I tell her casually. “You don’t order your steak well done, do you?”
“God, no. I’d just eat my shoe and save the cook the trouble.”
I nod my approval. “Good.”
It’s funny that Virginia and I are even sitting down to a meal like this. We’ve always had a casually pleasant relationship, but it never crossed the line to allow us to do something like this—sitting here at the same table, sharing a meal together.
Laurel’s wrecking ball effect on my whole life changed that, too. Not a negative change, certainly, but still a change.
“So, how are you feeling about the Nicholas situation?” Virginia asks, cutting a glance in my direction.
I have no idea. Seeing Laurel pregnant, watching her stomach grow, even putting my hand there and feeling the movement inside—all things that made it real that I impregnated her. Now the baby part is coming though, and I have no fucking experience to speak of with those.
If things had worked out between us, I don’t know how the hell I would feel, but as it is now, it’s really not my problem.
Spearing a piece of asparagus, I assure her, “Sin and Laurel have it under control.”
“I know, but I mean, are you excited to meet him? I know kids weren’t part of your life plan, but… I don’t know, becoming a parent is a pretty big deal.”
“I’m sure it is, but I’m not really becoming a parent. Sin and Laurel are the parents. It’ll be weird to see a baby that’s half me, I guess. I don’t know.”
Seeing that I don’t want to talk about this, Virginia nods and lets it go. I take a long sip of my drink, belatedly wondering how this service thing works with her sitting right here.
Turns out, I don’t have to. When I finish, she grabs my glass and scoots out of the booth, going to get me a refill.
Perfect.
When she comes back, I can’t help smiling. “See, if I get this kind of service even when you eat with me, you should come to Sunday night dinners.”
“I do. I serve them. If you need someone to make dinner at Sin’s house next week so you guys don’t have to drag the baby out, let me know. I can tell Trent to schedule someone else here and come cook dinner there. I’ll get to see baby Nicholas that way, too.”
I sigh. “You’re not catching baby fever too, are you?”
Virginia shakes her head. “I’m a cool 98.6, no worries.”
&nb
sp; Thank God. Having her make dinner is actually not the worst plan I’ve heard. I figured we would do it at my house, not theirs, but I didn’t think about bringing the baby out. It’s Vegas, for Christ’s sake, it’s not like it’s cold.
“Oh, grab my phone, will you?” she asks. “It’s in my apron.”
I reach over and fish it out, passing it to her.
“So, for a gift, I was thinking—” She freezes, her eyes widening. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me she was in labor!” Not even giving me a chance to respond, she scoots out of the booth.
“Settle down. Eat your food. The baby will still be there when you’re done.”
“Good lord, Rafe Morelli. I’m going to get you a to-go box.” Glancing at my drink, she says, “I’ll tell Trent I’m leaving too, so I can drive you.”
I’ve had one drink, but I don’t bother arguing with her. I intend to finish this one if she’s going to drag me out of here before I can even finish eating. Frankly, I could use it. I don’t feel ready to meet a baby I created. I’d like to distract her with something else, but now that she’s seen the text message or whatever it was, she’s going to be like a dog with a bone.
This is bound to be an experience. I wonder if Sin will be pissy with me. He hasn’t been over the course of Laurel’s pregnancy, but now his future wife is pushing my baby out of her vagina, and I don’t see how that won’t be weird.
Oh well, I guess we’re doing this.
Virginia tosses food into boxes and grabs her apron, flashing me an excited grin before leading me out of the restaurant. “You can just give her the onesie, say it’s from you.”
“There’s not a chance in hell I would have bought that thing. I wouldn’t even know where to find one.”
“I’ll say it’s from both of us then. No, that would be weird,” she realizes immediately.
“Virginia, it doesn’t matter. The baby isn’t going to remember who brought it gifts.”
“Well, if you haven’t already, I’m picking out a Christmas gift for you to buy him.”
“He can’t unwrap presents. He can barely open his eyes.”