Chapter
Fifteen
Kitten
I was sort of bummed when I saw Fox’s message, but not surprised. I didn’t shed any tears, which I was proud of. I had mixed feelings about his whole “Don’t fuck the other guy on the same nights.” Does he think I’m just going to sleep with Ryan because we’re going out to dinner? I mean, I did let Fox spank me thirty minutes after we met, then I asked to come back the next night. So, I guess he’s not wrong.
And it wasn’t a “no one else touches you but me.” It was more like “go live your life and come back to me when you want to get railed.” And if Fox wants to keep it physical, that’s fine with me. It stings a little, but I’ve been through worse, and at least he’s being honest.
But the bitterness faded when Ryan texted about dinner tonight. He’s so freaking cute. Yes, he has baggage and complications, but so does everyone.
He meets me in the lobby of the building, both of us still in our work clothes. But his smile when he sees me is contagious. His eyes never waver as he watches me approach, and there’s something warm and inviting in his gaze.
“Thanks for agreeing.”
“Thanks for picking the place,” I say. “Deciding what to have for dinner is like the biggest hassle.” I sigh. “You have to eat, like, every day.”
He laughs and it warms my soul. “It’s a hole-in-the-wall pizza place and salad is not on the menu.”
“When you say things like that, I’m going to have to break up with my eighty-five-year-old boyfriend.” He blinks, confused, so I fill him in. “You know that old guy who was hanging out when you were in the middle of your little episode.” I freeze as the reality sucker-punches me. “I’m not trying to belittle it, I just don’t want you to think it was a big deal.”
He nods and smirks. “I get it.” Then he motions with his chin toward the front door. The lobby is full of people, talking on their phones, rushing with purpose. No one ever walks out of this building slowly. But Ryan and I both take our time. Maybe it’s the shift from leaving something known to heading out into the street. Maybe it’s not that at all.
True to his word, it’s a hole-in-the-wall pizza place—the kind that’s been around since the 1970s with the same plastic tables and a faded outline where a Pac-Man arcade game used to be against the wall. We fill the time with small talk, mostly innocuous questions about our days.
But I notice the tan line on his finger and look away. It’s our history that shapes who we are. I’m not exactly one to judge.
While waiting for the pizza, I notice how comfortable it is to talk to him. It’s not like talking with Bo, where I had to watch every word not to make him mad. No eggshells to tiptoe around. Since being with Fox, I’ve been brave enough to be more honest. Ryan deserves to know the truth.
“So I’m kinda seeing someone,” I blurt out while he’s talking about how he got started at his company.
He pauses and blinks at me. “Um, is it serious?”
“No,” I say with a fresh wave of anxiety, dipping my head to count the scratches on the table. “And this is the part when I’m going to talk for a few minutes and ramble, and fully expect to see a Ryan-shaped smoke cloud across from me. I’ve been seeing this guy and it’s only sex. But really fucking good sex. I don’t want to give that up because, quite frankly, you’re an unknown factor and logic stands to reason that I won’t meet—” I stop and take a breath. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try this with you. I’d like to see where it goes, if you’re up for that.”
I don’t know if I would meet anyone else who makes me feel the way Fox does. But there’s no future there.
The waitress comes with our pizza. It’s orange, has a puddle of grease in the middle, and smells like garlicky heaven.
Ryan smirks. “Well, I’m not running out, because my dinner just showed up.” He reaches for a slice, hisses, and puts it back down on the tray. “I always forget how hot it is.” Then his eyes burn into mine. “Why don’t you think your fuck buddy is serious about you?”
The tension in my chest loosens. He’s still here, the truth didn’t scare him away. I’m relieved, but try to play it off as super casual. I shrug and take a sip of my soda, trying to buy time to formulate my words. “Oh, because he’s made it very clear he’s only interested in my body. And I think he thinks I’m shallow.” That’s why he won’t take off the mask—he’s afraid he won’t live up to the expectation I’ve created.
Ryan winces like I’ve hurt him. “I don’t think it’s that. You don’t strike me as shallow.” He tries the pizza again—success! He pulls the cheesy goodness onto his plate. With the first one clearly safe, I grab my piece. He looks down at his slice and sighs. “Since we are being honest …”
I prepare myself for a slew of answers—I’m married, I’m in the mob, I’m secretly attracted to Bigfoot, one time I wasabducted by aliens but they sent me back home because I was too weird.
“I have epilepsy.”
Oh. Did not expect that. “You don’t need to confess it like you committed murder.” I lean back in the seat and give him a smirk, trying to play that line between comforting and ‘dude, I think you’re overreacting.’
He shakes his head. “Yeah, it’s manageable when I’m on the right medication. But one bad seizure could kill me.”
“I’m assuming that’s the med no longer covered under your insurance, hence why you think you’re going to die. Got it.”
He squints. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”
I wave my hands in front of my face. “No, I am. It’s very serious.” All the gears are clicking into place and I get it. “Is that why you had your friend ask me out for you?”
