Chapter Thirty-Eight Gemma
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Gemma
I twist the cap of my nail polish, inspecting my handiwork on my at-home pedicure. I picked New York Apple. Red always makes me feel confident and put together.
Blowing on the polish to help it dry, I readjust my toe separators and waddle across my flat, trying not to smudge my masterpiece. I’ve just reached my bookshelf when a loud buzzing noise reverberates. April’s here.
I desperately need some girl time. My head has been a mess since Saturday night—since Max and his dumb perfect mouth and his even dumber apology coffee.
When I told him that dinner was a bad idea, I wasn’t lying. The words felt hollow when I said them, like an empty promise I knew I couldn’t keep.
I never agreed to date the man, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what this is turning into. We’re both shitting all over the rules.
I should end it. I know we should end it. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Shit. This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to think these thoughts properly. To dissect them and articulate what this means—how I feel.
I’ve fooled around more with Max in a week than I have with any dates over the last few years.
And now the idea of a dinner date sends cold trickles down my spine—the kind that make me wonder whether I should take it as a warning sign because, against my better judgment, the feeling is suspiciously close to anticipation.
I press the intercom button. “Come up. Door’s unlocked.”
A moment later, the door swings open and I greet April with a warm hug.
“Thanks so much for coming,” I say.
She rummages through her tote bag before pulling out a bottle of champagne. “I brought bubbles. Figured we might need them.”
“You know me too well.” I take the bottle, pop the cork, and pour us each a flute. Our glasses chime lightly as we toast.
Settling into the sofa, April turns to me, a serious look on her face. “Where did you and Max disappear to Saturday night?”
Shit. She noticed. I wince slightly.
“Was it obvious?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Only because I know what’s happening between you two. I don’t think anyone realized you were both missing at the same time.”
April’s eyes dart to my laptop screen. She does a double take and squints. “Are you looking up butt plugs?”
“Yes,” I say.
When I don’t elaborate, she blinks before taking another long sip. “Do I even want to know?”
I shrug. “I was browsing online at work. Max saw and asked me to buy it.”
She closes her eyes slowly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
I place my flute gently on the coffee table next to my open laptop, releasing a breath before turning to April. “I’m so sorry I ran out on your special night.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. You don’t need to apologize. Everyone was there for the duration of dinner and that’s what matters. The guys were a little tipsy by the time they finished their meals, anyway. Anna, Mason, and Max went home shortly after you did.”
She pulls her long auburn hair over one shoulder. “Speaking of—Did you notice what was going on between Anna and Mason?”
I nod thoughtfully. “There was definitely tension between them at the dinner table.”
“They aren’t affectionate with each other anymore.” April’s eyes turn sad and she worries her lip. “Mason never used to be able to keep his hands off her.”
“Have you spoken to Anna?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t want to pry. But next time, let’s bring it up.”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“So, why did you call me over? Obviously, I’m always happy to see you, but you sounded worried. What happened?”
“Ugh,” I say, rolling my eyes. “After we fucked in your guest bedroom—”
“Ewww.” She scrunches her nose.
“As I was saying…” I tell her about what Max said afterward, how I took it as rejection and stormed out. I tell her about the apology coffee from Lance’s coffee cart and demand for a dinner date. By the time I finish, she’s wearing an expression I can’t quite translate.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I think this is turning into something more than a simple fling a lot faster than I’d guessed it would.”
“No, it’s not,” I lie. “It’s still casual, I swear. We’re still getting to know each other.”
Her look says she’s not buying it. “Casual is when you met that guy at Ruby Lounge and he took you back to his to play with wax and it turned out it wasn’t sex wax.”
“Oh yeah, Moby. I remember him well. Ironically, he was a real dick,” I say, reminiscing. “It was an actual candle. I poured the scorching wax directly onto his balls.”
“You had to ice his nutsack while he sobbed for forty-five minutes and you never saw him again—that’s casual.”
“So?” I ask, hoping she gets to the point soon.
“Gemma, Max tracked down your favorite coffee shop. He’s taking you to dinner. He’s asking you to buy…” She whispers the next part. “A butt plug.”
“Jesus Christ, April—this isn’t a nunnery. You can say butt plug.”
“All I’m saying is, this isn’t casual.”
I top up our champagne, avoiding her eyes. “It’s not serious either.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s…” I trail off, unable to finish my sentence, let alone understand my own thoughts and emotions.
“I’m not saying what’s happening between you and Max is bad.
I actually think it’s lovely. I saw the way he looked at you on Saturday when he thought no one else was watching.
But I think you both need to admit to yourselves that this isn’t throwaway sex.
Gemma…” She places her hand on my knee. “You’re allowed to like someone. ”
“I don’t like Max.” My words feel thin and brittle.
She tilts her head. “Why are you so against dating and having feelings for someone?”
“I’m not against it,” I say defensively.
“You are.” Her eyes soften. “You haven’t let yourself get into a relationship or entertained the possibility of another relationship since Todd. Why?”
“Because I like sex. I love my job. I like the freedom. I like…”
I’m scrambling for explanations. It’s true that I enjoy having emotionless sex. It’s true that I’m proud of how independent I am. But when it comes to Max? Even I’ve started to feel my excuses fall flat.
“You realize you can still have all of that, right? A relationship isn’t a life sentence,” she says, shooting me a sympathetic smile.
“You and James can barely go two hours without texting each other,” I say.
April laughs. “Fair point. But James and I still have separate lives. I still go out with you girls. I have my own business, which keeps me busy. He still plays online games and tours with the guys. We just… choose to come home to each other.”
I lift my glass again and swirl the champagne. “It isn’t that simple with Max.”
“No. It isn’t, I agree. But avoiding your feelings altogether isn’t the answer. You can’t repress everything, Gemma.”
“He’s leaving. He’s going back to New York at the end of this.” My voice cracks. “What if I let him in and it’s too much? What if what I need is… too much?”
She arches an eyebrow. “What you need? Judging by your quickie in my house and the butt plug, I highly doubt you’re too much for Max Browne.”
I shrug, and a lump forms in my throat.
“Gem, what happened with Todd,” April starts.
“I don’t want to talk about Todd.”
“I know, honey.” She brushes my hair back. “But maybe you need to.”
She sits, waiting patiently.
I think about how in love I was with Todd. And I was—embarrassingly so. We were happy, or at least I thought we were. But intimacy was never just about ticking a box for me. It was about connection and communication, about feeling seen in the most vulnerable way possible.
When he refused to even try to change his approach to sex, when he made it clear my pleasure was an afterthought, a part of me withered.
I watched all our friends walk down the aisles toward suburban nightmares, toward lives where passion was sacrificed at the altar for stability and normality, and I panicked.
The thought of coming home every night to someone who saw my desires as sick or “not normal”, who treated sex as if only his satisfaction mattered… I couldn’t stomach it.
So, I closed myself off. I built my walls and I ended it.
His refusal to give me what I needed—to even see why it mattered—didn’t just hurt me.
It broke me. It damaged the way I trust and the way I allowed myself to hope.
It made me question whether anyone would ever think my needs were worth the effort.
Then I discovered Ruby Lounge and KinkApp. They became havens for me. Somewhere I could shed my exterior and be myself around people who understood me. People who saw sex the way I did: as healing, as fun, not a chore.
The best thing Ruby Lounge and KinkApp provided me was clarity.
No one owed me anything, and I owed them nothing in return.
We could take from each other, give to each other, and enjoy each other in a safe environment without the messy tangle of expectations.
And when it was over, I could come home to my own space.
Just me, my dead plants, and my collection of moonlight-charged crystals that Anna swears do nothing.
It’s been perfect.
Until Max walked into my life three weeks ago and started making me desire the very things I’d protected myself from.
“Why won’t you let him in?” April whispers.
I blink back tears, finally voicing something I’ve never shared with anyone before. “Because when you accept affection from someone and give it in return, that’s when someone can hurt you.”
“Oh, hon. You love in a way most people don’t. Bravely. With so much depth and tenderness, even if you don’t realize it. Do you know that? Todd just wasn’t capable of meeting you there. But that doesn’t mean no one else will.”
A tear slips down my cheek and I brush it away with my jumper sleeve.
“You don’t have to carry the weight of how he refused to show up for you.
The kind of love you give? Someone else will meet you there.
Someone will prioritize your needs as well as their own.
” She rubs a soothing hand over my leg. “You can meet someone who is just as ambitious. Just as independent. Just as spontaneous.”
I drop my gaze to my lap.
“Are you afraid because you think you might have met that person?” she asks carefully.
I nod slowly.
“Are you afraid because that person might be Max?”
A sob escapes me. She moves in closer, twining her arms around me. “I can’t. Anna—”
Her palm draws circles over my back. “Anna will understand. I won’t push you. I won’t say anything to her either. Just promise me you’ll tell her if, or when, the time comes that you need to.”
I pull back, sniffling. “I promise.”
She squeezes my biceps. “Good. Now…” She wiggles in her seat, leaning over to pluck my laptop off the table. “Let’s have a look at these butt plugs.”