“Honey, I know you’re hoping everything works out, and I do want you to be happy. I swear. But don’t you remember how he treated you? His lying and cheating, not to mention the terrible names he called you just a week ago, when you went out on that date?”
But Belinda had an answer at the ready. “And he apologized and swore it wouldn’t happen again. He’s goin’ to therapy and anger management. Shouldn’t he be able to rehabilitate himself? Don’t you have clients who’ve made mistakes? I’ve always heard you say people deserve a second chance to prove they’ve changed.”
“Of course people do. That’s not what I’m saying.” I struggled to keep my cool. In my practice I’d seen too many women fooled by sweet-talking men pay a terrible price, physically as well as emotionally. It didn’t matter rich or poor, people wanted to be loved and were willing to put up with a football field of red flags. “I just want you in a healthy place, and I didn’t think that was the case after I saw you.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” she snapped. “Just ’cause you’re a lawyer and smarter than me don’t mean you know anything about relationships. I mean, it’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything. I gotta go. Please cancel the restraining order. I’ll talk to you.”
I was left holding a dead phone. Stung by her outburst, I still couldn’t be mad at her. With a mother like ours, how could I ever expect Belinda to recognize the warning signs of problematic men? And as she said, it wasn’t as if I were Mr. Healthy in the relationship department. My expertise was in finding and falling for men who were determined to remain unattainable. Case in point, the man who’d left fingertip-shaped bruises on my hips. I touched one and relished its slight ache.
I couldn’t do anything about the restraining order—courts were closed on Sunday for nonemergency motions. But I made notes for the following morning, then worked on upcoming cases. By the time I powered off my computer, it was after six and my stomach growled. I itched to text Keston to see if he wanted to come by but held off. I was tired of doing the chasing.
“He knows where I live. If he wanted to see me, he would. See, Dr. Sharpe?” I raised my beer bottle. “I’m trying.” Instead of mooning over the man, I ordered a burger and fries and turned on the television, searching for a rom-com to cheer me up.
The movie was good, and my hunger had been sated, but my heart was empty. It was almost nine p.m., and I knew Keston wouldn’t be coming. I decided to drown my sorrows with ice cream, but my freezer held no joy, so I needed to make an emergency run to the bodega down the block. On my return, I stopped dead on the sidewalk at the sight of Keston sitting on my stoop.
“It’s late,” I said, trying to act casual, but my heart pounded madly.
“What flavor?” he asked, ignoring my statement.
“Coffee Heath Bar.” Pulling myself together, I mounted the steps, walking past him. Trying to be strong but failing miserably. He stood behind me, his body heat overwhelming. If he touched me, I knew I’d bring him upstairs and let him fuck me senseless.
“My favorite.”
I unlocked the front door, but instead of walking inside, I faced him. God, he was beautiful. I wanted to lick every inch of his skin. I ached for him with every throbbing cell of my being, yet I didn’t want him to think he could show up, screw me, and leave. I pulled together the shreds of my dignity.
“You should’ve let me know you were coming.”
For the first time, he appeared disconcerted, as if no one had ever said no to him. Which probably was the case.
“Oh. You have someone upstairs?” He shrugged. “I can go.”
Without bothering to wait for an answer, he turned and walked away.
I might have been strong, and I should have been proud, but as I sat in my lonely apartment, eating my pint of ice cream, I wasn’t sure it was worth it when I could’ve had Keston with me.
Chapter Eleven
Keston
Who the hell did he have up there?
On my way to the shop the following morning, I was still wondering about Bailey’s mystery visitor. True, it was late, and I should’ve let him know I was coming by, but we did talk about it and…well, dammit. Whatever. If he wanted to hook up with other people, it was a free country. I didn’t care.
My morning didn’t get much better when Ambrose came it, all hepped up about a house he and Carly had gone to see.
“It has a fucking pool in the backyard. Can you believe it?” He and Jodi chatted as they prepared their stations. I remained silent, and Ambrose glanced my way several times.
“How was the weekend, Keston? Busy?”
“Oh, Keston was busy all right,” Jodi chimed in with a giggle, and I glared at her.
Ambrose’s brows rose, and his gaze shifted from me to Jodi, then to me again. “What? Am I missing something?”
“Not something. Someone. As in a really cute guy.”
A smile broke across Ambrose’s face even as I scowled. “Yeah? You had a date?”
“It wasn’t a date. We just hooked up. No big deal.”
