Anger contorts her features, washing away the vulnerability. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“How do you figure?”
“They were over. He was moving on.”
“They were broken up? Officially? He told you that?”
Red creeps up her cheeks as shame takes its rightful place in this conversation. “I thought . . . It seemed like . . .”
“You’re better than this.” Then, because I can’t look at her anymore, I walk away.
Chapter Six
Liz
Riverrat69: Have you thought about it?
The words make my heart triple its pace. Last night, River asked me to meet him. I think I reread the message at least fifteen times, simultaneously hoping it said what I thought and praying I’d misread it.
On the one hand, after fourteen months of abstinence, I am so fucking game for meeting my anonymous friend, for doing all the wicked things he’s described.
I’ve been good—so good and so patient and so abstinent while searching for my something real. But this weekend my twin sister is getting married, and not only am I single, I’m sex deprived. In a nutshell, my plan isn’t working for shit.
Letting this anonymous stranger end my dry spell seems like the best possible coping mechanism for dealing with my loneliness. Only, I’m afraid—or is it hopeful?—this isn’t so anonymous. And I know I wouldn’t be tempted in the slightest if I didn’t hear River’s words in Sam’s voice.
On the other hand, if River really is Sam, I don’t know how he’s going to react when he finds out he’s been talking to the one woman in this world he detests. Have I thought about his invitation to meet him?
Tink24: I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t.
A lot. I’ve thought about it more than I want to admit. I’m not a dumb girl. My mom taught me never to take candy from strangers, and my big sister taught me never to take an unopened drink from a man in a bar. I’m pretty sure meeting a stranger for hot, anonymous sex falls firmly in the same category. I want to meet him. I want to end the secrecy. But I shouldn’t.
Riverrat69: I didn’t mean for it to go this far. You deserve better than what I’m offering, but if I let this end without meeting you . . . without touching you . . . God, I’m not sure I could forgive myself.
I never thought it would come to this either. Those early days we joked around about the concept of Something Real, and I’d tell him about the guys I’d meet from the other sites. River and I talked about nothing and everything. It didn’t start like this—the dirty talk, the rule-breaking pictures, the longing. That came with time. I never would have imagined we’d meet.
But what good could come of it? He doesn’t want the things I do, and if he’s Sam, learning I am Tink24 might make him walk away forever. The truth is, I’m afraid to lose River.
But I can’t deny that I want to meet him, either. I can’t deny that he makes butterflies dance in my stomach.
Tink24: And what exactly are you offering?
Riverrat69: Pleasure. As much or as little as you want.
Taking a deep breath, I carefully compose another reply.
Tink24: I want to, but it’s complicated.
Riverrat69: Nothing complicated about what I want to do to you.
Tink24: What if you’re not attracted to me?
Riverrat69: I swear to you, I’ve seen enough to know that won’t be a problem.
Tink24: I have a lot to think about. Can we talk tomorrow?
Riverrat69: Of course. Don’t do this if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you.
Tink24: Good night, River.
Riverrat69: Sweet dreams.
* * *
Sam
“Is it true?” Shit. Della looks pissed—ready-to-cut-off-someone’s-balls pissed. “Daddy, is it true?”
Ryann rolls her eyes. “Watch out, Dad. She’s pulling out the big guns and Daddying you.”
My father wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “What’s the problem, Della?”
“Is Liz Thompson working for you?”
“On a trial basis, yes.” He frowns. “Is there a problem?”
She looks at me, eyes pleading, then whispers, “I just don’t like her.” I wonder if she’d bring it up at all if Connor were here, but he’s off on some campaign errand for Dad tonight.
“Della,” Mom scolds, “don’t be ridiculous. You and Liz used to be great friends. Just because things didn’t work out with the daycare doesn’t mean she can’t work for your father.”
Della’s eyes are wide and wet, but she looks down at her plate to hide her tears. She doesn’t want them to know the truth about why she hates Liz so much. If my parents knew the truth, they never would have let her marry Connor.