Wallbanger(79)

I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck, and as I hit the landing I looked back. He had a fake smile plastered across his face, and his voice

was colder than I’d ever heard it before.

“Caroline and I are headed out for dinner,” James answered.

I smiled back over my shoulder. “Yes, some lovely little Vietnamese restaurant,” I cooed, pretending to be thril ed.

“You don’t like Vietnamese food,” he said, frowning.

This made me smile. “I’m going to try the soup,” I answered.

James locked eyes with Simon as he held the door for me. He let it swing right as Simon came through with his hands ful of trash bags, but I

caught it just in time.

“Wel , have a good night,” I said as James walked me toward his car with his hand on the smal of my back.

“’Night,” Simon answered, lips tight. I could tel he was irritated.

Good.

James bundled me into the car, and we were off.

The dinner was fine. I ordered fried rice off of the fusion side of the menu, and when it arrived, for a moment al I could think about was eating

noodles on a houseboat in the middle of Ha Long Bay with Simon.

But as I said, dinner was fine, the conversation fine, the man I was with, fine. He was a fine-looking man with a great future ahead, his own

adventures to be had, mountains to conquer. And tonight, I was the mountain. I kind of wanted to let him climb.

He walked me upstairs to my door, even though I could have stopped him from coming al the way up. As I dug for my keys, I could hear

Simon’s phone ringing, and he answered.

“Nadia? Hi. Yep, ready when you are.” He laughed.

My heart clenched. Fine. I turned to say goodnight to James, devastatingly handsome and right there. Right there in front of me. O had been

gone a long time, and she and James had once been close. Could he? Would he? I was going to find out. I invited him in.

As I pul ed a bottle of wine from the fridge, I watched him scan the room, taking stock of everything: the Bose sound system, the Eames chair

by the desk. He even checked out my crystal as I handed him his glass. He thanked me, his eyes burning into mine as our fingers slipped past each

other.

Nature took over. Hands knew, skin recognized, lips teased and became reacquainted. It was new and old at the same time, and I’d be lying if

I said it didn’t feel good. His shirt came off. My skirt dropped, I kicked off my heels, and our arms wrapped and tucked in. Eventual y and inevitably,

we headed to the bedroom.

I bounced lightly on the bed, watching through hazy eyes as he knelt before me on the floor.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” I pul ed him on top of me. Everything was fine, everything was as it should be, and as I mechanical y wrapped my legs around his

waist, his belt buckle digging cold into my thigh, he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled.

“I’m so glad I needed a decorator.”

And just like that, fine was not enough.

“No, James.” I sighed, pushing at his shoulders.

“What, baby?”

I hated when he cal ed me baby.

“No, no, just no. Get up.” I sighed again as he continued to kiss my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized what used to make me feel

something now made me feel nothing at al .

“You’re kidding, right?” He moaned in my ear, and I pushed him again.

“I said get up, James,” I said, a little louder this time.

He got the message. Doesn’t mean he was happy to hear it. He stood up as I smoothed my shirt, which was thankful y stil mostly buttoned.

“You gotta go,” I managed, tears beginning to track down my cheeks.

“Caroline, what the—”

“Just go, okay? Just go!” I yel ed. It wasn’t fair to him, but I had to be fair to myself. I couldn’t go backward, not now.

I clasped my hands to my face and heard him sigh, then stomp off, slamming the door. I couldn’t blame him. He must’ve been in blue-bal hel . I

was sad and mad and a little bit tipsy, and I hated my O. My eyes landed on one of my Come Fuck Me shoes on the floor, and I threw it as hard as I

could into the living room.

“Ooof!” I heard a deep voice utter, and it was not James Brown’s. It was the man I did want in my bed, and the one I was most mad at right now.

Holding the shoe like some kind of late-night Prince Charming to my slutty O-less Cinderel a, Simon appeared in my doorway, barefoot and in his

pajama bottoms. The sight of his perfect speedbump abs crossed me over from pissed off to M. A. D.

“What the hel are you doing here?” I asked, angrily wiping my tears from my face. He was going to see me cry.

“Um, I heard you and James…Wel , I heard you, and then I heard you yel ing, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he stammered.