“I was thinking of going to New York to see Tawny. Maybe in a new place, I won’t think so much.”
“Annie, you have to let this go.”
“Relax,” she says, wiping her face. “Our secrets are ours.”
“Good. So take a vacation. God knows, you’ve earned it. Then you can come back . . .”
“I’m not coming back,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
She looks away. “You said it yourself.”
“I said you needed to pursue your art. I didn’t mean you needed to leave the state.”
She grins, shrugging. “I’m sticking around for a few days. Besides, you’ve got Sutton now.”
Unable to hide the huge ass grin on my face, I say, “That’s really new.”
She rakes her fingers through my hair then wraps her arms around me as tight as she can. “Very new for you,” she says. “My job was never about scheduling your appointments. It was about watching out for you. You’ve got someone else to do that now. Don’t fuck it up.”
*
Annie and I listen to Tawny through the speakerphone on Annie’s desk in her office. Tawny’s singing into the phone, something new she’s written. She’s supposed to perform it today in front of her mentors in New York, and she’s clearly a nervous wreck.
Her voice cracks. “Crap, I can’t do this. I’m never going to be a singer.”
“You’re already a singer,” I say. “I swear, your first word came out in a high C.”
She tries to steady herself. “I can do this, right?”
“No doubt.” I hear her inhale and exhale a few times. Poor kid, I wish it was easier for her. “I’ve got big news.”
“You’re marrying Sutton,” Tawny teases.
I flash a look to Annie. Obviously, she thinks it’s her responsibility to keep everyone informed about my dating life. Rolling my eyes, I say, “No.”
“You mean not yet,” Tawny says.
Annie prods me with her finger. “Tawny, you should see him. He’s totally starry eyed and sappy.”
“Ahh,” Tawny cries.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I visit,” Annie says.
The screeches coming through the speaker are so loud, it’s a wonder glass doesn’t break. There is no noise shriller than that of an excited teenage girl. They go on to chat about Annie visiting for a few minutes, making plans before hanging up.
The office door opens, and Sutton sticks her head in, giving a little wave to Annie and flashing me a small smile. “I hope this is alright.”
I take Sutton’s hand and bring her all the way in. I can tell she’s upset. “How’d it go this morning at the bank?”
She shakes her head. “It’s alright. It was a long shot. The bank thinks the hotel is a risk, and I’ve got nothing to offer as collateral, so I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.”
“Let’s talk about it. Maybe I can help?” I offer, and Annie gives me a look.
Sutton doesn’t see it and says, “Unless you’ve got some pull at the bank, I really don’t see how you can.”
“I wish I did.”
“Pierce’s pull was at the poker table,” Annie says.
Sutton’s eyes cut to me. “What?”
I shoot Annie a look. “Nothing.”
“You gamble?” she asks me.
“No,” I say.
Sutton looks over at Annie, who says, “Pierce got the money to buy this place at a poker table.”
“I’m sure Sutton doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“It’s a great story,” Annie says.
“Tell me,” Sutton says.
“Pierce worked for the previous owner, started when he was like fourteen and stayed all through high school and college. He never spent a dime the whole time he lived with his dad and Vicki, so he had a nice little bank account when the owner died. The place was run down and carried a lot of debt, so it was being auctioned off. Pierce wasn’t even close to having enough to make a decent bid. He was only, what, twenty-two at the time?”
“Annie, we really . . .”
“He and I drove three days out to Vegas,” Annie says.
“You went with him?” Sutton asks.
“He said I was his lucky charm,” Annie says.
Sutton glances my way. “So you drove out there.”
Annie says, “He took every last penny he had and stayed up for forty-eight hours straight until he had enough to bid on the place.”
“That’s pretty risky,” Sutton says.
“I was young and reckless and determined not to take a dime from my father. I got lucky.”
“Wow,” Sutton says. “Never would’ve guessed this about you.”
“That was the only time I’ve gambled.”
“Was it just beginner’s luck?” Sutton asks.
I swallow hard and shake my head, feeling tension in my shoulders. “My dad liked to gamble. I paid attention.” Sutton reaches up and puts her hand on my chest, which relaxes me for some reason. “Let’s talk.”
“Pierce, I really need to get to work. I just wanted to let you know,” Sutton says.
“I can help if you’d like.”
Annie throws me a look. Unfortunately, Sutton catches it this time, asking, “What am I missing?”
“Should I order up the usual?” Annie teases. “Car, condo, credit cards?”
“What are you talking about?” Sutton cries, her eyes wide.
I give Annie a death stare. If we were still ten, she would be sticking her tongue out at me right now, but instead she just raises a judgmental eyebrow. An outsider might think she’s trying to sabotage me and Sutton, or that Annie’s jealous, but I know Annie better than that. This is her way of making sure I’ve been upfront and honest with Sutton about my past relationships.
“Package deal when you date Pierce,” Annie says. “Do you prefer morning sun or evening sun?”
“Annie, that’s not funny,” I say and turn Sutton to me. “It’s nothing. In the past, I’ve bought girlfriends things. It’s really nothing.”
“It’s the usual,” Sutton says with a shrug. “You give them a monthly allowance or something?”
Annie laughs, and I give her another look, but she simply rolls her eyes at me. I take Sutton’s hand. The touch of her warm skin is all it takes to redirect me. I lead her out of Annie’s office and into mine, then shut the door behind us and reach for her waist.
She pulls back, her hand on her hip. “No cars, no condo, no credit cards, no monthly allowance. I am not with you for any of those things.”
“I know that,” I say, “But . . .”
“Why do you feel the need to do this?”
“It’s just part of who I am. I like to take care of the woman I’m with.”
“Well, I don’t want any of that from you.”
Her hand on her hip is a sure sign I’m not going to win this battle, but that’s alright. I have a bigger fight to win. “You like living with your dad?”
She rolls her eyes. “No condo. Besides, I sleep at my hotel a lot and work on things.”
“I used to do the same thing. Painted this very room in the middle of the night one night.”
“It’s nice to have someone who understands what I’m trying to do.”
“I do. That’s why I was thinking about some things.” I usher her over to my desk and pull her onto my lap. My desk is littered with papers, filled with numbers, projections, estimates.
“What’s all this?” she asks.
“A proposal.”
“For what?”
“For us.”
Her eyes scan the papers. I know what her hotel is worth, what it needs to get up to an elite standard. I have the cash flow to help her out, but I know she won’t take it. Still, I’m a businessman and know a good investment when I see it. I’ve never gone into business with someone I’m involved with, but I want to help her, and if I can help myself along the way, then it seems like a good idea.
“You w
ant to be my partner?” she asks.
“Yes, I’ve got the money for the repairs, but I want a piece of the action.”
“I’m doing this on my own.”
“Why?”
“To show everyone that I can—including myself. I don’t need a man to rush in and save me. I’m doing fine on my own.”
“You are,” I say. “But together, we’d be great. You’d still be the majority owner in the property by a considerable percentage.”
She studies the numbers, twirling her long brown hair, the harsh reality right in front of her in black and white. There are no guarantees in business, but my offer is close to it. That has to intrigue her a little bit.
“A partner?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“A silent partner?” she asks.
“Not likely.”
She chuckles. “This is very generous.”
“The hell it is,” I say. “Stop thinking of it as a handout. This is a smart business decision for me—for both of us.”
“I’m a risk,” she says. “The bank even said so.”
“I’ve taken bigger risks,” I say, now somewhat pleased that Annie blabbed about the gambling.
“What if we don’t work out?” she says, motioning between us.
“It’s business. We both have business minds. We can separate our feelings. I wouldn’t hurt my business over a break up, and I don’t think you would, either.”
She leans in and kisses me, her lips parting, her tongue slowly circling mine. My arms tighten around her, my dick pressing into her.
“I need to think about it,” she says.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A week sex sober and counting.
“You seem happy this morning,” Dr. Lorraine says, smiling.
“I’m in a good mood.”
“Any reason?”
“Not the one you’re thinking of.”
A hearty laugh fills the room. “What’s her name?”
“I didn’t have sex with her.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“Her name is Sutton.”
“Tell me about her.”
I launch into how we met, the dates we’ve been on. And yes, I tell Dr. Lorraine about the almost-sex we had. She actually seems proud of me, and says she won’t take away my days. “I told her about you and why I’m coming and the sex diet. She was very mature about it. I thought she might not want to be involved with me.”
“She accepts you.”
“She likes the idea of no sex for a while, but I need to amend the rules.”
“We can get to that later,” she says. “Describe her to me.”
I take forever describing her, the way her skin blushes with a hint of pink when she’s embarrassed, the perfect curves of her body, the way she twirls her brown hair when she’s nervous, the blue shade of her eyes. I want Dr. Lorraine to have a vivid picture of her. Still, I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job.
Dr. Lorraine’s smile covers her whole face, stopping me. “I have a clear picture of her in my mind. She works in a competing hotel. Do you think that will be a problem?”
“No, we actually might do a little venture together.”
Dr. Lorraine leans forward in her chair. “Do you foresee any problems with that venture, or anything else with Sutton?”
I pause for a moment and think. Let’s see. She’s going to want to have kids, and I lied to her about that. She’s going to want to get married, and I’ve never even considered it. She’s thinking about love, and I’m thinking about lust. Plus, business ventures crumble all the time because of personal issues. “I’m trying to just have fun with her right now. This is different for me.”
She puts down her pen. “What did you do?”
My eyes open wide. “What? Nothing.”
“You just went somewhere else in your mind.”
How the hell can she read me like that? Blowing out a deep breath, I say, “She’s not like me. She wants marriage, love, children. I told her about my vasectomy, and she freaked out. Said it was a deal breaker.”
“Sounds like a woman who knows her own mind, what she wants out of life. How is it you two are still dating?”
“I told her I’d consider a reversal if I met the right woman.”
“And you feel guilty you lied to her?”
“A little,” I say. “I’m usually very direct and honest, but I didn’t want her to leave.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to stop what we started.”
“Because you hadn’t slept with her?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why?”
I shrug. I know it’s because I’m feeling something for this girl, but I’m uncomfortable enough feeling it. I don’t want to talk about it. “So about the rules . . .”
“What about them?”
“Can we change them some? A month is a long time not to be able to really touch her.”
“Okay, you may touch her with anything but your penis,” Dr. Lorraine says.
I start choking. This woman never ceases to surprise me with how direct she is. “Great.”
“I’m not finished,” she says.
This is bad. It’d been too easy.
“She may not touch you below the waist.”
“Wait, what?”
“If it’s unclear, I can give her a call—with your permission, of course.”
“But . . .”
“Your butt is below the waist, so not there, either.”
I can’t help it. I start to laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“And I think I only need to see you once a week now,” Dr. Lorraine says.
“Guess I’m doing well.”
“Don’t strangle yourself with the slack I’m giving you.”
*
Things are good. With Dr. Lorraine easing up, I have more free time, which translates into seeing Sutton more. Come to think of it, we’ve seen each other every day the past few days, but today isn’t going to be good. It’s Annie’s last day. I’ve seen her almost every day of my life as far back as I can remember. But that’s all ending.
Annie starts to gather her things, a picture, a plant, the sweater she leaves on the back of her chair, then places her keys down on her desk. Something about the way she’s slowly moving feels too final. She’s got no long-term plan. She’s visiting Tawny in New York, but nothing beyond that—no place to live, no job. I know she’s got money saved up. I pay her well, but how long can that last? I’ve offered to help, but she’s refused. I can’t control what she does, but thinking about her alone makes the hair on my neck stand up. I step into the doorway between our offices.
“The aquarium fundraiser tickets are on your desk. Make sure you remember your dentist appointment on the twelfth and the meeting with the festival people on the fourteenth. And don’t forget that your . . .”
“Annie,” I say, pulling her into a hug. She squeezes me tightly. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving.”
She looks up at me. “My work here is done.”
“I love you,” I say. “You know that, right?”
She nods. “That’s the part of this that hurts because I love you, too.” When she pulls back, all her emotions go with her, sucked back inside like a vacuum. “You need to focus on Sutton. You’re falling in love with her.”
Am I falling in love? Even if that’s true, it’s not the point.
“Is that why you’re leaving?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I just . . .” She doesn’t finish her thought. Instead, she shakes her head like she’s shaking away some lingering doubt. “You have the key to the storage unit that has all my paintings, right?” I pat my pocket, letting her know I do. “Those are yours now.”
“No, Annie! I can’t take those. That’s your life’s work in there!”
She strokes my cheek and my hair. “I want you to have them. Mostly, they’re our story, anyway. I even kept the one we made as kids, when we cove
red ourselves in paint and rolled on the canvas, remember that?” she asks, and I nod. “I have them sorted by date from beginning to end. When you see them, you’ll understand.”
Something about this feels very wrong. There’s too much history between us for her to just up and leave so quickly. Who does that? I can’t put my finger on it. I know she’s been struggling lately. Maybe this is the change she needs. “Anything else?” I ask.
She takes my hand, pulling me down onto the sofa in my office. “I do need one last thing. I need to talk about that night.”
“Annie, I don’t want to use the last few minutes before you leave talking about the biggest mistake in my life.”
“But it wasn’t your mistake,” she says. “It was mine.”
“We’ve been over this. We were fifteen and drinking.”
Her head shakes. “We both know who the wild one was back then. We both know I pushed you into it.”
“You have to stop this. If you keep dwelling on it, Tawny’s going to find out. She can never know. We agreed.”
“It’s just Vicki. I hate her so much. I hate that Tawny grew up with her. I fucking hate it!” she says, her hands clenched in tight fists.
“I hate her just as much as you do.”
“Probably more,” Annie whispers. “There’s something about that night. Something I never told you.”
“I was drunk off my ass, but I know . . .”
“What do you remember about that night?” she asks.
“My dad just got back from some tour. I was glad he was back. Even though we didn’t get along, being alone with Vicki was worse. He was throwing a big party.”
“You called me to come over.”
“Right. I hated those parties.”
“You were such a square,” she teases. “But I loved to party back then. I brought the party to your room.”
“I remember,” I say, laughing. “You walked in my room with your arms full of snacks, a bottle of whiskey. And I seem to recall you trying to get me to play strip poker.”
“What else do you remember?” she asks.
“Enough to know what I did.”
“That’s the thing. You didn’t know what you were doing. The brownies and Rice Krispies treats were made with drugs. Do you remember that part?”
“Yeah, we only realized it after I ate the damn things.”
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