Thrive by Rebecca Sherwin

“I can't keep my hands off you,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss me below my ear.
    “I’ve noticed.”
    “So let’s get out of the apartment. We can't stay locked inside and go crazy.”
    “We’re already crazy.”
    “For each other.”
    He stepped back and smiled softly at me. I thought of Thomas and remembered him saying the same thing. A lump rose to the back of my throat and tears began to well up. Curtis gently took my chin between his thumb and finger, and tipped my head to look at him.
    “It’s okay.”
    “Can I go and have a shower?” I stepped away.
    I wanted to give Curtis the acceptance he yearned for, but I had already given myself to Thomas. I needed time to figure this out.
    “Of course.” He let me go and I instantly felt the cold wash over me from the loss of his touch. “I put towels on the heater and I ordered you a sweater. It’s cold and you don’t have a coat.”
    “Thank you.”
    I leaned up and kissed his cheek, hoping it would give him the reassurance that he wasn’t the problem. It was me. Always me. I crossed the apartment to the bathroom.
     
    Steam filled the room and the hot pellets of water began to relax my weary body. Just a few days ago, I’d been floating through life, earning money to pay the bills and spending my free time – and not so free time – talking to my dead boyfriend. And now? I didn’t have a clue what was happening. I thought I knew who I was; a lonely girl from a normal family that fell apart. It happens every day. I thought I was just a girl who had felt more loss than many feel their entire lives.
    But I was wrong.
    Would I go back to my old life of dealing with no longer having Thomas as my anchor, blissfully unaware of what actually happened to my family? I wasn’t so sure. How long was it okay to mourn someone before you were expected to move on? How long before it was acceptable? And what if you didn’t want to? I was torn between my old life – routine and predictable - and this new life with Curtis. Unpredictable, dangerous, unknown. There was no choice, really. I was with Curtis now. I had always been connected to him, in some twisted way. Even Thomas knew there was more than what I told him about Cut Throat Curtis.
    My father needed routine, precision, obsession, probably so he could cover his tracks and lie to everyone. I couldn’t be like him, hiding from the truth and refusing to face the consequences for my actions. It was time to begin a new life with Curtis, unsure of what fate had planned for us. I just hoped that Thomas would forgive me and help me travel this new path.
    I washed quickly with the things Curtis had ordered for me and climbed out of the shower. Was there nothing his concierge wouldn’t do? I was beginning to wonder how much money Curtis had, how much power he had, and if he had earned it or stolen it. I shook my head of the thoughts, scrubbed my wet hair with a warm, fluffy towel, and peered out of the bathroom before I scurried across the hall to the bedroom. I couldn’t see or hear Curtis, but he had laid clothes out on the bed for me; new jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and knitted sweater; leather boots with a little heel, and a small bag from a well-known lingerie store on Bond Street. I dried quickly, pulled on my clothes and went searching for Curtis. My heart leapt as the front door opened, and relaxed again when Curtis stepped in holding a cardboard box out to me.
    “Hairdryer,” he shrugged.
    “You think of everything.” I smiled and took the box from him. “Thank you.”
    “I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he uttered, all signs of playfulness gone. “That includes letting you catch a cold.”
    I shook my head and tapped his chest, turning back in the direction of the bedroom.
    “Can I do it?” I froze mid-step and looked over at him. “Your hair. Can I dry it?”
    “I’d like that.” I smiled and led us to the bedroom.
     
    “So where are we going?” I asked as we left Curtis’