Chapter One
I never meant to spend almost six years mourning my ex. The night he said good-bye, that he was going to work things out with his husband, I figured he’d come back. He had before.
But that time, he didn’t get the chance.
The day Jared lost his life, I gave up on mine.
I tried to forget, I really did. I used every dating app I saw advertised online, hung out at bars and clubs. Went to Fire Island and the Hamptons even though it wasn’t my scene. I kissed a few guys, but…nothing.
“Get out of that fucking apartment and meet someone already.”Those comforting words came from my best friend, Frisco, who’d been screwing his way through the population of New York City since he was sixteen. He’d warned me not to get involved with Jared.“Don’t fuck married people. You’ll only get hurt.”
It wasn’t my fault…exactly. Jared never told me he was married. Or that he was about to have a child. I fell in love with him the first time we met, when we had dinner at a little out-of-the-way bistro in Chelsea. He’d taken my hand in his and played with my fingers, looking deep into my eyes.“I’m so lonely, Press. I’m going to remember your smile when I go to bed tonight.”
And I was so desperate to be wanted and loved, I believed everything he said.
Fool.
That was the night it began—my almost four-year obsession, for want of a better word, with Jared Eason. And when he left me to go home to his perfect family, I kissed him good-bye, never truly believing it would be our last time together. I was stupid and naïve, and he was the first man I’d ever been with. I thought he’d return and we’d be together forever.
God, I wassucha fool.
Now here I sat in a bar, beautiful men surrounding me, their eyes sending out smoke signals, yet all their combined heat couldn’t melt the ice around my heart.
“He’s checking you out, Press.” Frisco nudged me. “Go dance. Have a drink. Maybe you can go home with him.”
A silver-haired man with hopeful eyes gave me a tentative smile.
“Who are you, my pimp?” I asked irritably.
“No, but your sad ass is sending out keep-away vibes when all I want is to let someone in.” Frisco’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t gotten laid in a week.”
“And yet you lived to tell the tale,” I said dryly, rolling my eyes. My drink finished, I signaled the bartender for another. “How did you survive, or do I not want to hear the sordid details?”
“It wasn’t easy. Fortunately, I have a cute assistant who loves to give blowjobs as much as I love getting them. His mouth should be insured for a million dollars.”
I stared at him. “Really, Frisco? I thought you were smarter than that. You shouldn’t be fucking around with someone at work. You could get in trouble.”
“Oh, it’s all right.” He drained his glass. “Armi’s discreet. We wait until after hours. He’s more than happy to work off the clock—on my cock.” Frisco ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair and grinned broadly. I followed the direction of his smile and saw a young man with bee-stung lips and big brown eyes gazing at Frisco like he was a margarita truck on a ninety-degree day.
“If you’ll excuse me, I see someone who needs my attention.” He set his drink down, but before walking away, he leaned in close, a troubled expression clouding unexpectedly soft eyes, and I steeled myself for a lecture. “Please, Press. Let it go already. He’s dead, but you’re alive. Find someone who’s worthy of your love. Either that, or get some help. I can’t stand you wandering around alone and lost.” He gave my hand a squeeze, then left. I watched him slide into the seat next to the slim young man and kiss his cheek. I turned away.
The silver-haired man still waited, and I forced myself to smile back at him. He lit up and came over.
“You look like you lost your best friend.”
I sought out the corner where Frisco and his twink had been cuddling, but they’d already disappeared; only God and Frisco knew where.
“No, he’s here somewhere.” I waved a hand around.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Before I could answer, he signaled the bartender. “Give the gentleman another of whatever he’s having, and I’ll take another Glenlivet neat.”
“You don’t have to buy me a drink.”
He handed me my glass. “I know. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.” His lips found my ear. “But I’d really like to do you.”
His mouth moved to my cheek, then my lips, and I let him kiss me, hoping it would stir something inside me. His whiskey-tasting tongue pushed into my mouth, and I tried. Honest. I wanted that spark. That flame.
But nothing.
