Wait, no: Nia was wearing a pink strap-on.
She rubbed my inner thigh. “Can I?”
I forgot what I was feeling bad about and bent over. Apparently Tristan had also forgotten and flopped beneath me so I could suck him off while Nia took me from behind.
He came loudly, his knee jerking up, hitting me in the face. Reaching down, he scooped the come off his stomach and offered his finger to me, then to Nia, before slipping it into his own mouth. Maybe I was being sentimental—I was in the middle of coming, after all—but it was one of the most romantic gestures I’d ever witnessed.
The three of us were strewn on Nia’s bed like days-old confetti. The waning sunlight struck a deep orange color through the tree branches, casting strange patterns on our skin. She pet my hair like we were at a sleepover. I could sense the door closing on the moment. I tried to linger in bed, feigning exhaustion. But Nia tossed the covers off, bending down to pick up her underwear, and Tristan yawned, reaching over me for his watch. I had never felt emptier.
Someone’s phone rang. Nia answered. “Oh, hey! He’s right here. Cat’s actually here too.”
I sat up like I’d been pushed.
Nia held the phone out to Tristan. I saw it was his. “It’s Jay. He wants to say happy birthday.”
Tristan rasped, “Tell him I’ll call him back.”
She looked confused but did it. I excused myself and staggered down the hot hallway to the bathroom. What had I thought would happen?Nia and Tristan would realize they couldn’t live without me, would fight to figure out a way for this to work? That the three of them would come around if I just kept pushing, muscling through the pain I was causing others and myself?
I wanted to laugh at how I’d thought this would get them out of my system when I had never wanted that. I’d been wrong about it all. This was too hard. There was already enough wrong in the world to court more complications. Everyone tried to tell me. They didn’t have to tell me anymore.
Collapsing over the toilet, I dry heaved, trying to keep quiet. Nothing came up.
When I returned, Nia and Tristan were dressed nicely for dinner, a show, for something that didn’t include me. My clothes were folded on the bed. I was just a block on Tristan’s birthday schedule.
I stumbled stepping into my shorts. Nia asked if I was okay. I told her I was late for work even though my shift wasn’t for another three hours. I avoided Tristan’s eyes as I hurried out the door.
In the hallway, Ryen was turning out of the actress’s bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. I backed into the railing in surprise but caught myself. He gave me a curt nod, but his expression was brute, as if daring me to confront him. I didn’t. He jogged down the steps and out the door.
Chapter 65
I forgot to send several orders to the kitchen. Two customers complained to Leigh. As I watched Milan clock in, heart in my ear, a water carafe slipped from my hand, shattering like an explosion of tears. Durk didn’t even make fun of me, just helped me clean up.
For the first time since I’d started working there, Leigh pulled me into her small basement office and asked if I was okay. I was so shocked by this display of softness I asked her to repeat herself.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
Her desk—a foldout card table—balanced a mountain of paperwork. “I’m taking you off the schedule.”
“What? For how long?”
“Till further notice.”
This was Leigh’s way of telling me I was fired. I stared at her false lashes, wanting to rip them off.
“Are you kidding?”
“You’re always late and I know you been fucking Rah in that storage room. You lucky I let you stay this long.”
“I’ve been here for four fucking years. I’m a good server.”
She shrugged like,Too bad, what can you do?
