what
she’ll say, what she’ll remind me of. This conversation is
unnecessary.
I don’t care and I
don’t want to hear it.
Besides, it’s a little
late to not fall in love, isn’t it?
I hear the rumble of
her Audi outside as I pour myself a cup of coffee. She lets herself
in without as much as a single knock. Her heels click almost
formidably against the wooden floors as she walks through to join
me in the kitchen, and I hold an empty mug over my shoulder.
“Coffee?”
“Sit,” she demands,
knocking on the island.
“I guess not,” I
mumble, setting the mug down and turning.
I sit opposite her. Her
lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed, and her nails rap against the
marble countertop repeatedly. I reach over and smack her hand down. Fucking irritating sound.
“So. You’re off the
books.” No questions. A simple statement that sounds so final.
“Temporarily,” I
correct her. “For now.”
She unwinds her
lightweight scarf from her neck and lays it on the island. “So,
what? You’re going to spend however long with Aaron Stone then just
go back to your job? Or is he the kind of man to let you continue
fucking other men every day and not let it impact your
relationship?”
I stare at her
flatly.
“Because that’s what
they all are, honey. They’re all good with it until they’re not and
they leave you in the dust as they speed away to something
better.”
“My aunt, always the
cynic.”
“Realistic, Day. I’m
realistic.”
I get back up and pour
my coffee. “You would know, right? One marriage accounts for all
the men in the world.”
“It accounts for all
the men with an ounce of self-respect. You and I both know Aaron
won’t stand for you escorting if you’re in a relationship.”
My fingers curl around
the lip of the counter, and I take a deep breath. “I know. He’s
made that crystal clear several times.”
“So he should. Call
girls don’t have relationships and—”
“They don’t fall in
love. Yeah, I know.”
“In theory.”
“Theory is bullshit
without reality.”
My aunt’s lips curve
into a smirk that is identical to mine. “Precisely, Day. Theories
are just that. They can be tossed aside as easily as the one before
them.”
I chew the inside of my
cheek and study her. The hardness has gone from her eyes. All the
tension has seeped from her shoulders, and she almost looks
relaxed. Alarm bells ring in the depths of my mind.
“Where is this
going?”
Aunt Leigh pauses,
nibbling on her bottom lip. “Will you give it up? For him? If it’s
him or your job, will you step away from the escorting world and
give him everything you have?”
“Yes,” I whisper
without a thought. “If that’s what it comes to, yes. I’ll walk away
for him.”
“Good.”
My eyes shoot up to
hers. “What?”
“Good,” she repeats,
her voice firmer than a moment ago.
The stool scrapes
against the floor as she stands and turns away from me. She looks
out the doors that lead to my backyard and briefly rests her
forehead against the glass.
“Good,” she says yet
again. “Do it. If you have the choice, take the escape. Take the
way out. Don’t let your job ruin your relationship.”
Silence lingers as I
process her words. They’re soft and heartfelt. They’re tinged—no,
they’re saturated—in regret. They hit where it hurts.
“Aunt Leigh?”
“You know I didn’t. You
know I chose escorting over my marriage to Luke. You know it killed
the five years we’d spent together.” She exhales heavily. “I chose
the power and control over the love I had for him, and it destroyed
us.”
“You’ve lived with that
for six years? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She turns, a wan smile
on her face. “I gave it up six months later. Do you remember?”
I nod.
“It was simply six
months too late. If I’d left when Luke told me he was leaving, we
could have saved our marriage. I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“Why are you telling me
this? After all the times you’ve
she’ll say, what she’ll remind me of. This conversation is
unnecessary.
I don’t care and I
don’t want to hear it.
Besides, it’s a little
late to not fall in love, isn’t it?
I hear the rumble of
her Audi outside as I pour myself a cup of coffee. She lets herself
in without as much as a single knock. Her heels click almost
formidably against the wooden floors as she walks through to join
me in the kitchen, and I hold an empty mug over my shoulder.
“Coffee?”
“Sit,” she demands,
knocking on the island.
“I guess not,” I
mumble, setting the mug down and turning.
I sit opposite her. Her
lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed, and her nails rap against the
marble countertop repeatedly. I reach over and smack her hand down. Fucking irritating sound.
“So. You’re off the
books.” No questions. A simple statement that sounds so final.
“Temporarily,” I
correct her. “For now.”
She unwinds her
lightweight scarf from her neck and lays it on the island. “So,
what? You’re going to spend however long with Aaron Stone then just
go back to your job? Or is he the kind of man to let you continue
fucking other men every day and not let it impact your
relationship?”
I stare at her
flatly.
“Because that’s what
they all are, honey. They’re all good with it until they’re not and
they leave you in the dust as they speed away to something
better.”
“My aunt, always the
cynic.”
“Realistic, Day. I’m
realistic.”
I get back up and pour
my coffee. “You would know, right? One marriage accounts for all
the men in the world.”
“It accounts for all
the men with an ounce of self-respect. You and I both know Aaron
won’t stand for you escorting if you’re in a relationship.”
My fingers curl around
the lip of the counter, and I take a deep breath. “I know. He’s
made that crystal clear several times.”
“So he should. Call
girls don’t have relationships and—”
“They don’t fall in
love. Yeah, I know.”
“In theory.”
“Theory is bullshit
without reality.”
My aunt’s lips curve
into a smirk that is identical to mine. “Precisely, Day. Theories
are just that. They can be tossed aside as easily as the one before
them.”
I chew the inside of my
cheek and study her. The hardness has gone from her eyes. All the
tension has seeped from her shoulders, and she almost looks
relaxed. Alarm bells ring in the depths of my mind.
“Where is this
going?”
Aunt Leigh pauses,
nibbling on her bottom lip. “Will you give it up? For him? If it’s
him or your job, will you step away from the escorting world and
give him everything you have?”
“Yes,” I whisper
without a thought. “If that’s what it comes to, yes. I’ll walk away
for him.”
“Good.”
My eyes shoot up to
hers. “What?”
“Good,” she repeats,
her voice firmer than a moment ago.
The stool scrapes
against the floor as she stands and turns away from me. She looks
out the doors that lead to my backyard and briefly rests her
forehead against the glass.
“Good,” she says yet
again. “Do it. If you have the choice, take the escape. Take the
way out. Don’t let your job ruin your relationship.”
Silence lingers as I
process her words. They’re soft and heartfelt. They’re tinged—no,
they’re saturated—in regret. They hit where it hurts.
“Aunt Leigh?”
“You know I didn’t. You
know I chose escorting over my marriage to Luke. You know it killed
the five years we’d spent together.” She exhales heavily. “I chose
the power and control over the love I had for him, and it destroyed
us.”
“You’ve lived with that
for six years? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She turns, a wan smile
on her face. “I gave it up six months later. Do you remember?”
I nod.
“It was simply six
months too late. If I’d left when Luke told me he was leaving, we
could have saved our marriage. I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“Why are you telling me
this? After all the times you’ve
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