Something Reckless(30)

“Of course. I’m not asking for more than I need to get by. You don’t know how hard it’s been for me.” Her gaze flicks to her wrist where I’m squeezing. “I think you’re bruising me. What will people think?”

I release her and step back. “I’ll get you the money.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” She swings her hips as she walks to the door.

I’ll never forget that night two years ago when Asia showed up at my house. My head was already buzzing from Liz showing up at my office, and then there was Asia, waiting to grant my wish, telling me she’d have the baby.

I was so stunned and grateful I had to remind myself to breathe. I cupped Asia’s face in my hands and studied her. “You promise?” I don’t know what I was looking for there, but I stared at her until I was sure I could believe her.

“I promise.”

Then I kissed her—not because I loved her or planned to make a life with her. I kissed her because I understood she was giving me a gift.

After she left, I showered and dressed and went back to Lizzy’s house. I’m a private person, but I wanted to tell Liz about Asia and the baby. I was venturing into unknown territory and I needed a friend. I wanted Liz to be that friend, to be part of my life.

When I got to her house, she was different somehow. More distant. Almost like she was embarrassed to look at me. I took her on a walk and stared at the changing leaves as I tried to figure out what to say. I’d never asked a girl to go steady with me, I’d never wanted to, so I had no idea how to start with Liz.

When I finally broke the silence, I said, “I know we said it was just a fling . . .”

She smiled at me, a strained, tight expression. “No strings, no attachments, no expectations. You’re not here because you’ve changed your mind on me, are you?”

Something in the back of my mind warned me that this was the real reason I’d never asked a woman for more than sex. She doesn’t want you, it warned. “I—” And when I told her another woman was going to have my baby? Did I really expect that to help my cause? “A friend gave me some news this morning and I wondered if I could take you out. Talk to you about it.”

“I’m kind of busy.” She looked away. “No expectations, Sam. But that goes both ways, okay? I don’t want this to be all awkward now.”

She’d taken what I offered, but she didn’t want more. I swallowed hard, wanting to say something more than goodbye. “You’re special, Rowdy. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t actually know that.”

“I’m just a girl who needed a good lay. Thanks for that.”

Her words were dull and sharp all at once and sawed their way into my chest like a rusty serrated blade. “I don’t even know what to make of you.”

“Do you really need to know?” She shifted awkwardly then. “Can you do me a favor? Don’t tell anyone about our little . . . indiscretion? I’d like to keep it our secret. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about me.”

I wish I could say that was the first time in my life a woman had made me feel cheap, like a dirty secret she didn’t want the world to know about. I wish she’d been the first to make me feel I had no purpose to her outside the bedroom. Maybe if I hadn’t been so adept at that kind of relationship with women, I would have fought harder for her. Maybe she would have been my girl and last summer would have never happened. “Who would I tell?” I asked.

And so I went to the gym and I had a long, sweaty workout, pushing myself until the ache in my gut transformed into a throbbing protest from screaming lungs and exhausted muscles. I never told anyone about my night with Liz, and I never told anyone about Asia, never told a soul that I was going to be a father and that I was thrilled and excited and terrified all at once.

I didn’t have to tell anyone because Asia used my money to get herself some new furniture, and a nice little cushion in her savings account, and the next time I heard from her, she was calling to tell me she’d had the abortion and that she didn’t want to hear from me again.





Chapter Three





Liz



When I get home, the house is eerily quiet. Most nights I miss the days Hanna and I lived here together. She’s my twin sister and best friend. We grew up sharing a room and went on to share a dorm and then this house in college. I miss having her here, but tonight, I’m glad for the privacy because I have an anonymous stranger who wants to chat when I get into bed.

I take a shower, shampoo my hair, and wash the smell of bar and Harry off my skin. Instead of the yoga pants and sweatshirt I typically choose in the winter, I put on a thin black slip that slides over my skin and makes me feel sexy as hell. He won’t be seeing me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel good—sexy is a state of mind, after all.