Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SLOANE
Driving past Camille’s house—our house—is the worst kind of torture. It only takes ten minutes to get there, and somehow that’s enough time for my stupid heart to hope. Hope that maybe, even this late, Milo will be at the window, his little face pressed to the glass like he’s waiting for me.
But all the blinds are closed. And just like that, the hope dies.
The soft porch light glows, and I almost pull over and knock. But all she’d do is curse me out and tell me to leave.
So I keep driving. Past the house. Past the mailbox. Past the stretch of the street where Milo learned to ride his bike last year.
My throat burns, and I fight it back because if I start crying, I don’t know if I’ll stop.
I know I messed up. I know I wasn’t perfect. But that isn’t me anymore. So when do I get a second chance?
My eyes keep going heavy, and I know if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be useless at work tomorrow. Sleeping in the car tonight isn’t an option, not when the cold is already inside my bones and it’s only going to get worse.
I kill time for another hour, driving in slow circles until I’m sure the cleaning crew at the diner is gone. When I finally pull in behind the building, my hands are shaking as I turn off the engine and grab my handbag and duffle. I slip around back, unlock the door, and ease it shut behind me.
In the back room, I head straight for the couch and curl up, tugging my jacket tighter as the building’s warmth slowly seeps in. The duffle slips off my shoulder and hits the floor as I dig out my blanket and the thin little pillow I took when Camille kicked me out.
I pull out my phone, then set a few alarms, early enough to make sure no one catches me sleeping here. But the second I lock the screen, it buzzes with a text from Mandy.
Why she’s still up at twelve thirty in the morning is beyond me.
Mandy
OK, can we talk about how you were practically dry humping Kirill today?
Sloane
I wasn’t even close enough to dry humping, but can we talk about why you were even thinking about me dry humping Kirill this late? Or at all?
Mandy
Stop deflecting. When are you going to fuck the man?
Sloane
Never. We are just friends. That’s all.
Mandy
The way he was staring at you while you were holding Lev was anything but friendly. It was more like, “I love you, Sloane. Be my baby mama.”
A laugh jumps out of me before my thumbs fly across the screen.
Sloane
He doesn’t love me, and I’m sure I’m not even his type.
Mandy
Girl. Don’t make me slap you.
Sloane
Lev wanted me to sit with them, so I did. Nothing happened. Don’t make it weird.
She responds a second later.
Mandy
Nothing happened, but you want it to. Just admit it, for fuck’s sake.
Of course I want it. Of course my body notices him.
The way he fills a space without talking, the way his attention lands on me and doesn’t flinch away, the way he looks like the kind of man who would pin you down and make you forget any other man existed but him.
Not that I’ve had any except that stupid one-night stand, but still…
Sloane
Mandy. Stop. I’m trying to sleep.
Mandy
Please, that man is hot. I bet he eats good too. I would be climbing that tree if I were you. Trust me, he’d let you.
Sloane
Is Kirill hot? Yes. Do I imagine his tongue doing things to me no man has ever done? Also yes. But will that ever happen? No. Definitely not.
The message whooshes away.
Holy crap, I can’t believe I said that! And the worst part is my brain supplies images I did not ask for—Kirill’s mouth, his hands, the feeling of his thick muscles and his weight on top of mine—and my body reacts like it’s been starving and someone waved food under its nose.
I tug the blanket higher over my legs like I can hide my thoughts under it. This is exactly why I don’t let myself want things. Want turns into need, and need turns into stupid choices.
Mandy is going to lose her shit, especially knowing it’s so uncharacteristic of me to talk like that. But whatever, it’s out there now.
Then I glance back at the screen…and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
The name at the top of the thread isn’t Mandy. It’s not even close.
It’s Kirill.
No.
No, no, NO…
Air leaves my lungs in a piercing, silent gasp, and my fingers go numb around the phone.
How the hell did you do that?!
My finger stabs the screen like I can unsend it, but no such luck. I’m still screwed.
Panic surges up my throat, and before I can think, an apology starts spilling.
But his message comes in before I can send whatever crap I’d come up with. I’m almost afraid to look, my gut knotting with pure and utter mortification. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again.
Kirill
Where exactly do you imagine my tongue, Sloane?
Oh my God… Oh my effing God.
This is how I die.
My face is completely flushed, like it’s on fire. It actually wouldn’t be so bad if I caught fire right about now…
This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done, completely topping the incident in high school where I barfed all over my food in front of the football player I had a crush on.
My fingers shake as I try to come up with SOMETHING. Anything at this point. But nothing good comes out.
Maybe I just say nothing, kidnap Milo, and move far, far away. I mean, it is the plan, right? I can just start early…
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force air into my lungs before writing whatever the hell comes naturally. At this point, what could be worse?
Sloane
I’m so embarrassed. That was an accident. I’m sorry for even writing it. I meant to send it to Mandy because she saw us today and she was being Mandy. Obviously you’re way out of my league.
And oh my God, I’ll shut up now, and maybe change my identity and disappear.
The second I send the message, humiliation hits me again, even worse than before.
Why did I say all that? I just made things even worse.
I bury my face in my blanket, like it can conceal the fact that my soul just left my body and is soaring somewhere near the ceiling tiles. The phone sits in my hand like a live grenade. Then a new message appears and nausea rolls in my gut.
Kirill
I don’t want you to shut up. Your rambling is quite adorable. And if you ever disappeared, I’d find you anyway.
Adorable.
He thinks I’m adorable?
He didn’t say I wasn’t out of his league, but I didn’t expect him to. I mean, look at him. Then look at me. I glance down at my thighs that more than touch when I walk and the rolls across my stomach when I sit. I bet the kind of women Kirill dates are the ones who end up on magazine covers.
Not that I want to date him or anything.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t say no if he asked.
And he’d find me? I don’t care if that sounded a little creepy. It was also kind of sweet. No one’s ever cared enough to come looking for me.
Unless they were trying to kill me, which I really hope isn’t the case with Kirill. That would suck.
Ugh, there I go, word vomiting to myself. Just shut up and fix this before he stops coming to the diner and you never see him or his sweet son again.
The thought of Lev makes emotions clog up my throat. Then my mind drifts to Milo, to his little face, to the way he’d probably try to make Lev laugh even if Lev didn’t want to.
Then the thought slips in: the four of us at a long dining table.
Milo beside me with syrup on his fingers.
Lev across from him, watching quietly as he lines up his French toast the way he lines up his chicken nuggets before he eats them.
And Kirill with those intense eyes and a smirk he reserves only for me because he loves me.
In that life, I’m not looking over my shoulder anymore. I’m not doing mental math about money or sleeping in my car, nor am I bracing for Camille to rip Milo away from me. Because I have Kirill now, and he keeps me safe.
A throb hits the back of my nose, and I sniffle to fight the tears that come. It's stupid to imagine things that are never going to happen.
Another message comes through before I can decide whether to throw the phone into the fryer.
Kirill
Go to sleep, Sloane. And don’t worry about this. We are fine. I promise.
We are most definitely not fine, sir. Not at all.
The sane thing to do would be to stop writing back. To put the phone down, crawl under my blanket, and stay there for eternity.
But of course, sane has never been my strongest skill.
Sloane
Can we please forget this ever happened? Just erase it from your memory, please and thank you.
The words look pathetic the second I send them, like I’m begging him to let me have my pride back.
Kirill
Sorry, solnishko. That’s not possible.
Solnishko? What does that mean?
I immediately look it up.
Solnishko – sunshine. Can be used as a pet name or a term of affection like honey. It can be both friendly or flirty, depending on the context.
Well, which one is it?
A little sound escapes me, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, as I imagine facing him again. I press the phone to my forehead like I can absorb it into my skull and make it disappear.
Not wanting to say anything else before I ruin the situation even more, I call Mandy—which, in hindsight, is probably the worst idea ever. But hey, why stop now?
She answers on the second ring. “I was wondering why you weren’t replying.”
“Mandy.” My words come out strained. “I just did something. Something bad.”
She scoffs, like the thought of me doing anything bad is beyond far-fetched. If she only knew…
“What did you do?”
“I texted him.”
A long pause stretches between us “Who?”
I let out a huff. “Kirill. I meant to text you, and I thought I was, except the really inappropriate text about his tongue that I meant to send you went straight to him.”
Another long drag of silence hangs, so long I almost question if she’s still there, until…
“Oh my God!” Mandy starts laughing so loudly, I pull the phone back. “That’s fucking hilarious.” She tries to catch her breath. “What did you say, exactly? I need details to the letter.”
“You’re the worst,” I groan, pretending to cry.
Once I give her the whole exchange, she chuckles even harder.
“This is not funny.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to have to quit. That’s it. I have to quit.”
“You are not quitting,” she says between giggles. “You cannot text a man about his tongue and vanish! Because how else are you gonna know if he can use it right?”
“Oh my God, Mandy. I don’t want to know how well he can use it. I just want this all to go away.”
My face burns again because right now all I can picture is him between my thighs, those deep, dark eyes drinking me in while his mouth sucks on my—
With a grunt, I shake my head. This can’t be my life. It just can’t.
“Of course you wanna know. And now he knows what a dirty girl you are.” She laughs again, and I’d strangle her right now if I could.
“I’m going to die of embarrassment.” I sink deeper into the leather, hoping it somehow swallows me whole.
“You’ll be fine.” I register that grin in every syllable. “I bet that man has already pictured you naked, getting tied up on his bed.”
“Mandy, stop.” Heat rushes up my neck, my brain supplying me with images before I can shut it down.
“That man is into you,” she continues, like she’s stating a fact. “He’s probably relieved to know you’re into him too.”
“Doubtful.”
I don’t bother mentioning how he never corrected me about me being out of his league. He’s just a nice man, that’s all. Didn’t want to hurt my feelings or embarrass me any more than I already was.
“He has a kid,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I don’t think he’s looking for anything serious anyway, and I’m not looking to mess around.”
Definitely not after what happened the last time I had sex. I don’t regret Milo, ever, but I hate that my one and only experience with sex was in a dark room at a party with a guy I didn’t even know. It makes me feel disgusting.
But I was just a teenager not thinking clearly, having had too much to drink. Whenever I think about Milo getting older and asking who his father is, I get nauseous. What will I tell him?
“Well, you never know if he is unless you ask,” Mandy throws in. “But even if he’s not looking for a relationship, who cares? One night with him might not be the worst thing. Friends with benefits works for a lot of people, and girl, you need some dick.”
“I don’t do friends with benefits, and I’ve survived just fine without a penis.”
My vibrator serves its purpose…
“Sure you have, but fine, I won’t bring it up again. Tonight, anyway.” She giggles.
Rubbing my temple, I pull the phone away from my ear and tap back into the thread with Kirill, rereading his messages like they might rearrange themselves into something less mortifying if I stare long enough, while Mandy shifts gears and starts rambling about Jace again.
I half listen, eyes stuck on Kirill’s words. And even as I tell myself this is nothing, I start to wonder…
What if she’s right? What if Kirill wants something?
Something real. With me.
Hope rises fast, but it only takes two seconds for reality to crush it.
If he ever found out who I really am, he wouldn’t just stop wanting me. He’d make damn sure I’m nowhere near his life. Nowhere near Lev.
And that would kill me.