There was a knock at the door, and Cherry jumped.
She saw Tom through the peephole and considered ignoring him. She didn’t need to hear any more“I’m sorry”s.
When Cherry opened the door, Tom stepped in and immediately reached for her chin. He wrapped his hand around her jaw and kissed her so hard, she shifted back onto her heels.
She closed her eyes and let her neck go slack. Tom kissed her in one long press.
Cherry couldn’t make any sense of it. She couldn’t read him at all—she could usuallyreadpeople.
She felt suspended from the kiss. From his hand on her jaw. If Tom let go of her, Cherry would fall boneless from a great height.
Tom didn’t let go. But he pulled his mouth away an inch to take a breath. “I’m sorry,” he said urgently. “I just needed a minute to get my head on straight.”
“You needed a minute,” Cherry parroted.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He lifted her chin, his eyes avid on her cheeks and mouth. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Do you want to?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Tom whispered back. “I really want to.”
Cherry nodded and let him kiss her. Over and over. In long presses and short bursts.
“I really want to,” Tom said between kisses. “I really want you, Cherry.”
Chapter 23
Cherry wasn’t sure she was going to pull this off... Her back already hurt, and her patent leather heels were pinching across the top. She teetered up Russ Sutton’s front steps, holding on to the handrail.
She was meeting him here so they could drive together to dinner and come back to his house after.
Russ was being a very good sport about Cherry always coming back to his place. She couldn’t let him see the state of her house right now—and she didn’t want to see Russ himself there, surrounded by Tom’s chaos and handwriting.
Tom was at the house now every night when Cherry got home from work. They’d talk for a few minutes, sometimes longer, before he left. He was cleaning out the garage. There was a dumpster in the driveway. Cherry had to park in the street.
Tom seemed to have forgotten the “untenable” mess in the living room, which was typical, but Cherry didn’t have the fortitude to bring it up. Which was also typical. The house, the mess, Tom... it all felt familiar to her. Familiar and sticky and sad.
Cherry felt less single than she had a month ago. When she’d first reconnected with Russ, she’d felt totally available.Utterlysingle. Alone.
Now Tom was back in her life every day—not in a way that brought her companionship or comfort, but in a way that reminded her howentangledshe still was with him. Legally. Practically. (Emotionally.) She and Tom were still baked in the same pie.
Russ knew that Cherry was entangled. He was being respectful. He didn’t dig.
He and Cherry were still seeing each other. And still sleeping together. They followed each other on social media now. And they’d met up a few times for lunch. Cherry was high on his pretty face and his flirty text messages. All the parts of her life with Russ in them felt wonderful.
Tonight was Friday. Russ’s son was with his ex (Cherry still hadn’t met Liam). And Tom had asked if he could walk Stevie Saturday morning—so Cherry didn’t have any reason to get up and rush home. For the next eighteen hours, she didn’t have to think about anything that had ever happened in that house. Cherry wanted to feel free. She wanted to feel like someone with a future, not just a past.
She rang Russ’s doorbell. She waited. It was chilly, but Cherry wasn’t wearing a coat over her baby blue angora cardigan. It would spoil the effect.
Russ opened the door. He was already halfway into his canvas jacket. His eyes got wide when he saw her, and his arms dropped. “Cherry.”
“Hi,” she whispered.
Russ let his coat slip to the ground. He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Cherry’s face felt hot. “Going out on a date with you.”
Russ hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into the house. She tripped into him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Are you fucking kidding me with this?”
