“Most people act strange because of it. They want to be near me, closer to me. Some might pretend not to care or know, but you can tell that they do. And their true intentions usually end up coming out. There are some people who resent the wealthy. But that’s not her. With her, it’s like, it’s a… barrier. She doesn’t resent my money, she actually hates that I have it.”
“Hates. That’s a strong word.”
“Yeah.” He thought about it. “You’re right, maybe hate is too strong a word. I don’t know, disgust.”
“That’s also quite a strong word.”
He considered her reactions to thefancyrental car. Thefancyhotel. To him having a guest house. Maybe hate was a strong word. Maybe disgust was also too much. “I guess you would say more of a strong aversion. Like if money were a bad smell she couldn’t stand.”
“That’s quite an image.” Ava smiled. “Is that a good thing?”
“Is what a good thing?”
“Well, you know she doesn’t want you for your money.”
“I don’t think she wants me at all.” A half-hearted laugh came from his chest, but he wasn’t really joking. “But we have a very…we have a lot of chemistry. It’s sort of undeniable. I guess I’m not sure shewantstowantme.”
Ava smiled, kind and not patronizing. She’d probably had a hundred versions of this talk before. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I doubt you’re familiar with the catalog of Selena Gomez songs,” she began, “but she has one titled ‘The Heart Wants What It Wants.’ If this woman is struggling with her feelings, I doubt very much they’re shallow or surface-level.”
Deacon opened his mouth then closed it. He wanted to object, but the phrase stuck in his throat. It was all so foreign, being on the outside of someone’s emotional fortress, guessing at what was behind the walls. Most people he knew wouldn’t shut up about themselves. Jenna wouldn’t let him in.
“How can you say that?” he asked after a beat, voice a little rough. “You don’t know her.” Unless she did. He studied Ava’s face for any hint of recognition, but she only regarded him with that neutral, therapist’s gaze. He began to second-guess his instinct to trust her, but she was so direct, so utterly unflappable, he couldn’t imagine her hiding anything.
Ava considered the question as if she truly might know Jenna and then shook her head. “If money means so little to her,” she said, “I’m guessing things other people might value—appearance, status, even superficial physical attraction—don’t tempt her the way they would someone else. So, if she’s having this internal battle, maybe she’s convinced herself it’s just an intense draw to you, a chemical thing. But I would almost guarantee it’s more than that. If she feels a genuine connection with you,something deeper, she’s probably terrified of it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so hard for her to walk away.”
Deacon processed that in silence. It was a plausible theory, he supposed. Jenna hadn’t acted like any woman he’d ever pursued. Not that he’d had to do much in the way of pursuing. Women had always been easy. He’d had to relearn the entire playbook, but the problem was, she wasn’t even playing the same game he was. Every time he thought he’d made headway, she’d go cold, or vanish, or put up some new kind of barricade. It was like chasing a ghost. A ghost who occasionally invited him inside, gave him the best sex of his life, then pushed him out and bolted the door.
“Have you considered taking the physical component off the table?” Ava asked.
The words hit him like a slap. Take the physical component out? Wasn’t that the only thing he was good at in this scenario? Without that, what did he have to offer?
“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely bewildered. “You mean?—”
Ava smiled, patient as ever. “Before I moved here, I was a relationship therapist. I saw people struggling with this exact dynamic. My advice is to ask her to be your friend. No expectations. No pressure. Just… see what happens.”
“You want me to friend-zone myself?” Deacon had never been put in the friend-zone, willingly or not.
Ava’s expression softened. “Do you want her in your life long-term?”
He didn’t even need to think about it. “I want to marry her. I want her to be my wife. I want to raise our daughters together. I want to have babies with her, if that’s what she wants.” The statement hung in the air a moment, and even Deacon was stunned by the depth of his own desire. Hestared at the floor, flexing his hands, as if he could physically shape the world to fit that image.
“Okay, then take the pressure off the physical,” Ava spoke gently. “Give her space to see that what she feels for you isn’t just… animal magnetism. That what you have is more than that.”
Deacon wondered if that would work. She hadn’t messaged him back since he sent her those X-rated texts. What if he did flip the script completely?
At this point, what did he have to lose?
22
Jenna’s musclesached in new places. It was as if the throb of desire had rewired her body, leaving her light-headed and restless, a skin-tingling compulsion she blamed squarely—if unfairly—on Deacon St. Claire. He hadn’t laid a single finger on her in four days. As far as she knew, he hadn’t even been on the same side of the city as her since the night of the gala. But his absence had only made her symptoms more acute, her need more demanding, she’d been reduced to a desperate, mindless animal, her body a traitor she could neither predict nor trust.
Even with her own history—years of managing a complicated libido and the loneliness that often accompanied it—she’d never been much for self-pleasure. She’d owned exactly one vibrator in her life, a cartoonishly pink model she’d bought out of necessity during her first marriage, figuring if Asher was going to be gone for weeks, months on end, she might as well make peace with her situation. But even then, it had been a functional, utilitarian approach: a quick, efficient fix, rarely accompanied by fantasy, never by a sense of realsatisfaction. She’d never named the device or made friends with it like some of her friends talked about doing. Before Deacon, sex, even alone, was something she did, not something she experienced.
Sex with Asher was good, but that was because he knew what he was doing, even as a teen and he had a very alpha, dominant energy. But, at the end of their marriage, they hadn’t had sex in years. He’d been gone. With James, she’d almost convinced herself she didn’t have sexual needs at all, as if the very act had been leached from her by his predictability and utter lack of imagination. She’d gone so long without climax she’d started to forget what it felt like, how the world spun and collapsed at the same time, and how for a few precious seconds she could lose herself. How, after, her skin hummed like a struck bell.
