The shower pounds my skin like a gavel, but it fails to wash away the thought that’s been circling my mind since she walked out: I wanted more time with her. I wanted to hold her.
Like Gemma, I never cuddle after sex. That’s why Ruby Lounge worked so well for me, along with similar clubs in New York. It’s transactional. I don’t obsess over women, replay conversations, and I certainly never second-guess my actions.
We simply enjoy each other, then we part ways. Rinse. Repeat. No morning-after awkwardness. No regrets.
I don’t have any second thoughts about what we did in that bedroom Saturday night; that’s a memory I’ll enjoy carrying with me forever. But Idoregret my shitty apology that made her think I considered it a mistake.
My only real concern was coming between Anna and Gemma’s friendship. I’d hate either of them to get hurt in the fallout. I can handle my sister, but Gemma? I don’t want to be the reason they argue. Which is why we need to be more careful.
I slam the water off and grab a towel, rubbing it vigorously against my skin before roughly running my hands through my hair.
I dress in my usual—navy suit pants, a white shirt, and black shoes.
I need to focus. My mind needs to be on today. Work. The reason I’m here in the first place.
This whole arrangement was my idea, so I need to see that it continues without a hitch, just as we planned.
I make myself an espresso. The rich, nutty aroma of fresh coffee fills my kitchen, and I already feel more alert. I sip on the bitter brew, but my thoughts return to worrying about Gemma.
I’ve checked my phone a dozen times, half-expecting, half-hoping to see her name appear. Each time a new notification sounds, I’m hit with a jolt of unease, and each time it isn’t her, the disappointment hits harder than it should. How pathetic. I’m acting like a lovesick teenager.
I toss my phone onto the counter face-down, determined not to check it again. But as I reach for my jacket, the familiar vibration hums against the marble. I pause, then flip it over, screen up.
Remorse swells inside me as Anna’s name flashes on the screen. For a split second, panic sparks. What if she knowswhat Gemma and I were doing in the guest bedroom? But logic overrides the instinct. That’s unlikely. I swipe to answer.
“Hey, weasel,” I say.
“Hey, are you at work?” she asks.
I glance at my watch. “Not yet. It’s only half seven. Why?”
I take another sip of coffee.
There’s a pause. “Casey’s been messaging me on Instagram.”
My stomach drops. I set the espresso cup down. “What?”
“She’s sent me three DMs in the last twelve hours.”
I sigh, already knowing where this is going. I begin pacing the length of my kitchen. “What’s she saying?”
I hear rustling on the other end of the phone as she pulls up their conversation. “The last one says, ‘Hi, Anna, has your brother blocked me?’”
I exhale sharply, running my free hand through my still-damp hair. “Yes. I have.”
“She’s sent another message asking what’s going on.”
“She won’t stop calling and I just… I can’t keep doing this,” I say, keeping my voice even. I stop by the large windows, staring out at the London skyline without really seeing it.
There’s another pause. “What do you want me to say?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, irritated that Casey’s involved my sister. I force my shoulders to relax. “Just tell her you’re not getting in the middle of this. Or that I’m busy. That I’m not available—whatever you want.”
Anna hesitates. “That seems… harsh, don’t you think? You were married to her.”
I nod, even though she can’t see it. This is the last thing I need to be focusing on. “It is cold, I know. And I hate that. But I need it to be. She’s using you to get to me because I’ve finally drawn a line. She doesn’t know I’m back in London, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Another brief pause.
