Just One Night, Part 3_ Binding Agreement(45)

“All men are rabbits,” she retorts, her eyes flying open. “They sniff around, fuck whatever’s available, and then they run off. Fucking rabbits. And we’re Elmer Fudd, inadvertently blowing up our own lives while obsessively trying to hunt one down.”

I giggle. It’s the first time I’ve even come close to laughing in a long time. It’s a small victory for Simone, one she acknowledges with a gentle sigh.

“Are you sure it’s over?” she asks.

I don’t answer. I’m not ready to say the words aloud but my tears answer for me as she wraps her arm around my shoulders.

“I think maybe I didn’t advise you well, that night with the vodka-laced milk shakes.”

“Oh?”

“I told you about my ménage à trois, I suggested that you could indulge in those kinds of things if you had a strong sense of self. But what I didn’t point out is that you don’t.”

I wince at the insult.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, you will and soon. But right now you’re in the self-discovery phase.” She pauses before asking in a slow, measured voice, “How’s work?”

“I quit.”

“Thank God.”

I roll my eyes. “You told me that I should stay! You said that I should see things through, accept power without respect! That was you!”

“No, what I said is that you could either see it through or you could leave and go somewhere else. I suggested you work for yourself.”

I shake my head, stare at my wineglass, now drained except for a few drops of red liquid at the bottom. “I’m not equipped for that,” I say. “And my firm has a habit of punishing those who try that route, particularly if they suspect you might be poaching their clients or posing new competition for them. They’ll bury me before I get off the ground.”

“Um, yeah, they’re not gonna do that,” Simone laughs.

“Simone, I’ve seen them do it to other . . .” but my voice trails off. Of course they’re not going to do that. Like his cologne that lingers on my skin after we make love, the scent of his protection is still there. People can smell it. They know what it means.

“How would that be different?” I venture. “If they’re afraid to attack me because of him—”

“Kasie, we all have our advantages and disadvantages in life. A kid living in the projects uses his athletic ability to get out of there. The woman with bad teeth uses her family’s money to go to an orthodontist. The politician with a weakness for redheads uses his influence to cover up the scandal.”

I give her a sideways look and she laughs again. “Okay, maybe the last is taking it too far. But you’ve had your fair share of disadvantages.”

“Like what?”

“Like wounds that will never heal,” she says quietly.

We both fall silent. Outside the wind makes the branches of the trees scrape against my window. For a second I imagine them scratching out the word Melody into the glass.

“He can’t build your business for you,” she says. “Considering the circumstances I doubt he would even try. But your past relationship with him can protect you from unfair attacks. Your firm doesn’t have the right to undermine your new endeavors. Don’t invite them to do so.”

I look down at the hard floor beneath us, only partially covered by the Persian rug. “We made love in my office.”

“You and offices.” Simone laughs, thinking back to the last time I told her about having sex with Robert on his desk.

“This was different.” I reach my foot forward, feel the softness of the rug. “This wasn’t brutal or playful or choreographed as it sometimes is with us. This was just me and him, touching something inside each other, those wounds, the ones that won’t heal. . . . It was so raw and tender and . . .”

I don’t finish my sentence. I feel the memory more than see it. I feel the warmth of his mouth against mine, his hands against my bare skin. I feel my face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the salty taste of his tears still on my tongue. Wrapped up in his powerful arms I was the protected and the protector and for just a brief moment it felt like the whole world was falling into place. Things made sense, I knew who I was, what I needed to do, what my purpose was in life.

And I knew where I was meant to be. Right there, on the floor of my office, in his arms, making everything just . . . right.

Simone’s watching me. I don’t even have to look at her to sense the concern. “It’s another wound,” I say quietly. “And it hurts. It hurts so bad, I can barely stand up, barely breathe.”