“I’m not against it,” I say defensively.
“You are.” Her eyes soften. “You haven’t let yourself get into a relationship or entertained the possibility of another relationship since Todd. Why?”
“Because I like sex. I love my job. I like the freedom. I like…”
I’m scrambling for explanations. It’s true that I enjoy having emotionless sex. It’s true that I’m proud of how independent I am. But when it comes to Max? Even I’ve started to feel my excuses fall flat.
“You realize you can still have all of that, right? A relationship isn’t a life sentence,” she says, shooting me a sympathetic smile.
“You and James can barely go two hours without texting each other,” I say.
April laughs. “Fair point. But James and I still have separate lives. I still go out with you girls. I have my own business, which keeps me busy. He still plays online games and tours with the guys. We just… choose to come home to each other.”
I lift my glass again and swirl the champagne. “It isn’t that simple with Max.”
“No. It isn’t, I agree. But avoiding your feelings altogether isn’t the answer. You can’t repress everything, Gemma.”
“He’s leaving. He’s going back to New York at the end of this.” My voice cracks. “What if I let him in and it’s too much? What if what I need is… too much?”
She arches an eyebrow. “What youneed? Judging by your quickie in my house and the butt plug, I highly doubt you’re too much for Max Browne.”
I shrug, and a lump forms in my throat.
“Gem, what happened with Todd,” April starts.
“I don’t want to talk about Todd.”
“I know, honey.” She brushes my hair back. “But maybe you need to.”
She sits, waiting patiently.
I think about how in love I was with Todd. And I was—embarrassingly so. We were happy, or at least I thoughtwe were. But intimacy was never just about ticking a box for me. It was about connection and communication, about feeling seen in the most vulnerable way possible.
When he refused to even try to change his approach to sex, when he made it clear my pleasure was an afterthought, a part of me withered. I watched all our friends walk down the aisles toward suburban nightmares, toward lives where passion was sacrificed at the altar for stability and normality, and I panicked. The thought of coming home every night to someone who saw my desires as sick or “not normal”, who treated sex as if only his satisfaction mattered… I couldn’t stomach it.
So, I closed myself off. I built my walls and I ended it. His refusal to give me what I needed—to even see why it mattered—didn’t just hurt me. It broke me. It damaged the way I trust and the way I allowed myself to hope. It made me question whether anyone would ever think my needs were worth the effort.
Then I discovered Ruby Lounge and KinkApp. They became havens for me. Somewhere I could shed my exterior and be myself around people who understood me. People who saw sex the way I did: as healing, as fun, not a chore.
The best thing Ruby Lounge and KinkApp provided me was clarity. No one owed me anything, and I owed them nothing in return. We could take from each other, give to each other, and enjoy each other in a safe environment without the messy tangle of expectations. And when it was over, I could come home to my own space. Just me, my dead plants, and my collection of moonlight-charged crystals that Anna swears do nothing.
It’s been perfect.
Until Max walked into my life three weeks ago and started making me desire the very things I’d protected myself from.
“Why won’t you let him in?” April whispers.
I blink back tears, finally voicing something I’ve never shared with anyone before. “Because when you accept affection from someone and give it in return, that’s when someone can hurt you.”
“Oh, hon. You love in a way most people don’t. Bravely. With so much depth and tenderness, even if you don’t realize it. Do you know that? Todd just wasn’t capable of meeting you there. But that doesn’t mean no one else will.”
A tear slips down my cheek and I brush it away with my jumper sleeve.
“You don’t have to carry the weight of how he refused to show up for you. The kind of love you give? Someone else will meet you there. Someone will prioritize your needs as well as their own.” She rubs a soothing hand over my leg. “You can meet someone who is just as ambitious. Just as independent. Just as spontaneous.”
I drop my gaze to my lap.
“Are you afraid because you think you might have met that person?” she asks carefully.
