Chapter Four
Bailey
The workweek was made so much better by having a hot weekend to reminisce about. And Keston had made it an inferno. I’d lain in bed, worn out from him pushing me to the edge, over and over, leaving me a quivering ball of nerves, half-dead from pleasure when he’d finally entered me.
And while I’d slept, he’d left, without waking me or leaving a note to say…what? Thanks? I didn’t know what I’d expected, but I’d hoped he’d want to see me again. With a gorgeous guy like Keston, I suspected if I wanted that to happen, I’d need to make the first move.
The phone rang, and I had to shelve my salacious thoughts to earn my keep. My secretary was busy on the other line, so I took the call.
“Hello, Bailey Marks. Can I help you?”
“Hi, Bailey, it’s Dr. Sharpe.”
Automatically, I checked my calendar. “Hi. We don’t have a session until the end of the week—Thursday, at one thirty. Am I right?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I have to reschedule. Would you have any other time free this week?”
“Now?” I joked.
“I’m free if you are,” she deadpanned. “We can do a video conference if you want.”
“Even better.”
“All right. Give me a minute, and I’ll send you a link.”
I hung up and closed the files on my computer. The link popped up, and I clicked it. Dr. Sharpe’s face appeared.
“Hello, again, Bailey.”
“Hi.”
“How was your weekend?”
I thought about it and decided to tell her about Keston.
“It was good. I met a guy, and we hooked up.” I had no qualms getting into my sex life with her. I wasn’t a monk, and she wanted my truth, warts and all.
“Oh? Where did you meet him—an app, club?”
“At a club, but it turns out he’s the brother of an acquaintance.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “So you’ll be seeing him again?”
I thought about waking up alone, to a cold bed, with no note or text. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He left, and I haven’t heard from him.”
She set her pen on the desk. “We’ve talked about that. You have to stop waiting for other people to make your happiness happen. Your joy is dependent on you. If you want to see him again, you can make the first move.”
With another guy, maybe, but Keston was a prickly son of a bitch. “This guy—Keston—he’s different. A loner. He and his brother were given up as kids to foster care. Neither knew of the other until they were grown.”
“Hmm.” Her brows drew together. “That’s pretty unusual. They like to keep siblings together.”
“I know, but from what I heard, the boys were born four years apart, and his brother was given up first. They had no chance to be adopted together. I don’t know much beyond that. Anyway, he’s not much of a talker.”
“Do you like him? If you want to see him again, don’t let his behavior stop you. Take charge. You never know—maybe he also thinks you only want something casual, and he could be afraid to take that step.”
Keston afraid? Unlikely. “He’s pretty blunt. I doubt he’s afraid of anything.”
“Often the people who are the quietest or most closed off are the ones with the most fear. They know that if they reveal one scar, more wait in the wings. Like you were.”
I winced. “I’ve told you everything. My father, mother…all the random guys.” I spread my arms wide. “That’s me. The real Bailey.”
“Do you really think that? Do you only associate yourself with the trauma in your life?”
Sweat broke out on my brow. And I laughed although it was uneasy. “The guys aren’t traumatic. They’re tons of fun.”
Her gaze was piercing, and it reached out to me even through a computer screen. “I have no doubt they are, yet you’re alone. Still searching. For what?”
“I don’t know, all right?” I threw up my hands.
“I think you do.” Her calmness was irritating.
“Isn’t that what I pay you for?” I snapped, and when she didn’t respond, I sighed out loud. “Sorry. That was rude. I-I guess, I’m hoping I’ll meet someone who’ll want to see me again, even if it doesn’t lead to sex. Someone who’ll care about me. Maybe fall in love with me because I’m a nice guy.”
“How do you feel saying that?”
“My stomach hurts.” I rubbed my nape. “But less tense, I think.”
“That’s good. Why do you think people don’t love you?”
My smile was thin. “Gee, maybe because everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. My mother, every guy I slept with. Even my dad left.” My voice caught.
“Bailey, you had no control over your parents. Your mother’s abandonment was a selfish act of her own, and your father’s death was a tragedy. You’re seeking to fill the void with random men, but it’s not helping.”
“I always think, maybe this guy…and then they leave, and I never hear from them.”
Dr. Sharpe fixed me with her steady gaze. “Yet you keep repeating the same self-destructive behavior. Now you’ve done the same with Keston. Try and arrange a date with him, and don’t have it end in sex. Ask to see him again, but say good night, no matter what.”
After the session, I thought about everything she said, and though it made me cringe, I figured why the hell not? Better to exorcise him from my system now, before I fell harder for him. But all that had to be shelved until later, as I had several court appearances and a closing on a co-op.
By the time I got home, the last thing I was thinking about was sex. It was six o’clock, and I was hungry and tired.
And yet…I picked up my phone and texted.
Doing anything?
My text remained unread, so I decided to take a shower and figure out what to order for dinner. I came out of the shower, rubbing my hair with a towel, when I saw my phone light up. I couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through me.
I was. Bottom half of a full sleeve.
I chewed my lip.
Feel like dinner? I can come downtown.
I waited, my hopes draining with each passing second.
Sure. Meet me at Temakase at 7:45.
I stuck my fist in the air for the win.
Ok.
I put on jeans and a button-down over a Henley. Casual but not sloppy. The car dropped me off in front of the restaurant, and I spotted Keston walking toward me from the second he turned the corner. Black jeans, white sweater, and a battered leather jacket. Effortless and completely gorgeous.
I gave a small wave. “Hi. How’s it going?”
“Good. Hungry.” He pulled open the door, and after a five-minute wait, we were shown to a table. A young woman in her twenties gave us a practiced smile as she approached.
“Hi, I’m Janessa, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you a cocktail, beer, or anything else to drink?”
Reading the menu, Keston nodded. “Sapporo, please.”
“Same for me,” I said.
“Great. I’ll be back in a few.”
After she left, I waited a moment before speaking. “Surprised to hear from me?”
“Not really.” He smirked and pulled off his jacket. “I figured we have to eat.”
The teasing grin on his delicious lips left no doubt that he thought he was getting lucky later.
We studied the menu. “I’ve never been here. What’s good?” I asked, hoping to start some kind of conversation, as I figured he wasn’t going to make much of an effort. Keston came alive when we were having sex but was a man of few words otherwise.
“Everything. Usually I’ll pick something up to bring home. I don’t eat out much in restaurants.”
“I only do when I have an event or meeting friends.”
That wicked smirk ticked up the corners of his mouth. “Event, huh? One of those where you pay a thousand bucks to dress up like a waiter and eat lousy food?”
I chuckled. “Well, I don’t pay that much, but in my business, sometimes you gotta play the game.”
“Do you do a lot of game playing?”
I arched a brow. “Only in the bedroom.”
I hadn’t lied to Keston. I rarely went out to dinner during the week.
By the time I battled the subway to my apartment after a day at the office, I was tired and wanted nothing more than to stretch out on my couch like a slug.
Of course, if I had a networking get-together after work, I put on my Bailey-happy-face and presented myself, but the truth was, if I had a steady boyfriend, I’d have liked nothing more than to be home with him.
But Keston didn’t play along. “Why did you want to be a lawyer?”
I sipped my beer. “I’m a Jewish guy. We’re allowed three professions—doctor, lawyer, or accountant.” When he didn’t laugh at my joke, I sighed. “I really like helping people, and I believe I’m a good problem solver. Being a lawyer helps me accomplish that.”
That brought a reaction. “Oh yeah, sure.”
Hmm. I sensed sarcasm. “Not a fan of the legal system, I take it?”
I watched the play of emotions over his face—anger, pain, loss.
“How could I be? It kept me with people where I was only wanted for the money the government gave them. And then there’re the cops.
” His blue eyes narrowed to slits. “They’ve got nothing better to do than harass kids for tagging or swiping a damn doughnut from the bodega ’cause maybe they’re hungry. ”
“Is that what happened to you?” The restaurant was filling up, but it was as if we were the only two people in the world.
Knowing how self-controlled Keston was and that he lived inside his head, I could see him formulating an answer, his memories falling into place, lining up like soldiers on a battlefield.
And I wanted to be his armor and shield him against the world.
His jaw tightened. “Forget it.”
“No, I don’t think so. Grady told us he had a few brushes with the cops as a teenager and that’s why he became a lawyer. So kids like him would have an advocate.”
An ugly sound escaped Keston. “Listen, I love my brother, but he’s not much different from you. Working in a fancy office with a view, pulling in a big six-figure salary.”
“First of all, he and I are nothing alike. Aside from him having a PhD as well as a law degree, Grady works at a large firm. I’m a solo practitioner, hustling for each and every client.
Grady started his career working with kids who grew up like the two of you.
He’s been in the trenches of child welfare. ”
“You don’t have to tell me about my brother,” Keston growled.
“Maybe I do, if you’re dismissing him and all the hard work he put in to get where he is as a partner in a law firm. And don’t give me that snarl. You don’t scare me.”
“I don’t need this shit.”
“And I don’t need to be your booty call. If you want to see me in bed, you’ll have to deal with me out of it. And that means talking.”
Nerves dancing and heart pounding, I waited for him to get up and walk away. I half expected him to. Keston had that “it” quality that drew men to him. When you looked like him, honey had nothing on his vinegar. Everyone wanted a taste, and they’d willingly take the bitter with the sweet.
“Fine, whatever,” Keston grumbled. “But Grady and I, we live in different worlds. He’s being nice to me—”
“Because he loves you. Do you know how lucky you are to have found each other and to have a great guy like Grady as your brother?”
Our server returned, and we each ordered three rolls.
Keston once again fell silent. I took a sip of my beer.
How could a man so loud and vocal during sex have so little to say across the table?
It was like pushing a wheel up the mountain only to have it slip halfway down.
I could take this dark and broody act for so long—I’d never been a fan of Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights.
I was looking for a real-life man, not a Rochester or Heathcliff.
“So, uh, is there a most popular tattoo? Like a starter that people who haven’t gotten one usually pick?” Was my question as stupid as it sounded? Keston’s brow furrowed, so I guessed not.
“Depends. Some girls and women like a flower or a heart. If they’ve had a new baby, they’ll get the birthday with maybe a little footprint.
Or paw prints for their dogs or cats. Guys will go for skulls, or maybe the flag—US or their country.
The eagle is popular.” He grinned, transforming his moody features into a thing of beauty, and I couldn’t help returning his smile.
“Why, Uptown? You thinking of getting some ink?”
“Maybe. I don’t have any.”
Those blue eyes blazed hot. “I noticed. Pure, virgin skin.”
I snickered. “The only part of me you could call virginal, that’s for sure.”
Our rolls came, and we both demolished them, Keston giving me his extra ginger and pointing his chopsticks at me.
“You eating all the wasabi?”
I scooped up a dollop of wasabi and plopped it on his plate.
“Here you go, hot stuff.”
When the bill came, I scooped it up. “My treat. I invited you.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
Once outside in the cool air, he took my elbow. “My place is this way.”
Here goes nothing.
“I’d better get home. I’ve got a court appearance in the morning. But maybe we can get together again? Like over the weekend?”
In high school, I’d never been in the popular crowd.
I hadn’t been invited to hang out on the weekends at the mall, go to the movies, or play video games, and I wouldn’t have had the money for any of it anyway.
Now, at thirty-nine, I was reliving my teenage era of insecurity.
I might have the ability to do what I wanted, but I still yearned for the right person to do it with.
Being with Keston brought me right back to those days of wondering if I’d ever find someone who’d want me.
And apparently, I’d startled Keston with my question. He’d been certain I was a sure thing, and that convinced me I’d made the right decision.
“I work both days.”
Buoyed by the fact that he hadn’t blown me off, I jumped to answer. “I do too. But maybe after? You can decide what we do, if you want.”
“I’ll let you know.”
Not exactly what I’d hoped to hear, but I was determined to stand up for myself and not be so easy.
“All right. Well, have a great night. I’m going to call for a car.”
His gaze was unreadable. “Night.”
He took off down the block, and I waited for my ride.
It was an uneventful trip to my place, and once I got home, I brushed my teeth and got into bed.
Dr. Sharpe would be proud, and it might be a good thing to be strong, but that wasn’t going to be of much comfort in the middle of the night when I reached out for someone. I was still alone.
The week plodded along, and I had my head in my work, but not my heart.
“Jerk,” I muttered that Friday evening. I sat on my couch and my phone, again, remained frustratingly silent.
Each night, I scrolled through dating apps, but no one caught my eye enough to make a connection.
Not like I’d had with Keston, although given his silence, it was all one-sided.
Dr. Sharpe was right. I was nothing more than a vessel for Keston to have sex with.
A willing, eager participant. So, so eager that the hot shame of embarrassment flushed through me, and I tossed my phone aside.
My buzzer rang, but I ignored it. It rang again and again. Annoyed, I stomped over to the intercom.
“Who is this? Stop ringing my bell.”
“It’s Keston. Wanna go for a ride?”