Is this how lives begin to spiral out of control?
I take a tentative sip of my drink and give that a thought.
Today looks so different than my life did this day a week ago. Then I was sitting at my desk in my business suit, probably lecturing someone about the ins and outs of the law. I’m certain I was irritated and probably ready to have a heart attack—that and wondering why I picked a career that keeps me surrounded by overbearing men.
Then I took a vacation.
Now I stand in a business mogul’s luxury kitchen after a night of delicious sex in his multi-million-dollar house near the beach.
I pace around the kitchen, taking in the insane attention to detail in every element of the house. The handcrafted molding around the doorways. The rounded edges of the marble countertops. The way the windows bring in so much light, yet the sun never shines directly in.
It’s not surprising, though. That’s Holt, and it’s one of the things I love so much about him.
My feet stop moving as the last sentence flows through my brain.
I hold my mug with both hands and smile.
I do enjoy so many things about him.
He’s so kind and thoughtful. No detail gets by him. We can talk about anything, and his ideas are so thought-provoking. And he cares.
I lean against the counter and think back to last night. How he pushed me on the carriage to open up about myself. Even then, it wasas if he was prodding me gently for my own good. As though he knew I needed to get that stuff off my chest.
What’s funny is that I didn’t even know I needed to share all of that. But waking up this morning felt … different. Lighter. Less weighed down by the world.
It’s probably all the sex.
I laugh at myself.
I grab a seat next to the windows that look across the pool and let my mind float back to Holt’s office. My intention wasn’t to spill my life’s story. All I wanted to do was to admit that he was right—that I do hold things in—and acknowledge that I might need to work on it.
Yet when I experienced the tenderness in his eyes, the attentiveness, my guard slipped.
For once, talking about Jack and the night I started to lose control didn’t feel like a shameful blemish on my soul.
I take another sip of coffee and remember how safe I felt in his arms. It was such a relief to tell someone my secrets and not be judged. His arms help put the pieces of me back together.
I sort back through various men I’ve had semi-relationships with over the years. Never once did I come close to telling any of them.
Why?
Why Holt?
The coffee burns my stomach as the acid sloshes around. I tug the robe even tighter.
My throat cinches, and I take a deep, calming breath.
“It’s because you’re leaving,” I tell myself. “It doesn’t matter what he knows about me. He’s safe.”
He’s safe.
My heart sinks as I realize the truth in that.
Holt is safe. He makes me feel protected.
And it’s a shame I’ll only have this one time in my life.
I put my cup in the dishwasher and head upstairs to check my emails.
