Chapter 4
Ivan
"Keep 'em coming," I said to Keith, shoving my empty glass towards him.
He poured me another shot of whiskey, and I downed it in one go, baring my teeth at the burn. I slapped the counter again.
"I think you've had enough," Keith said.
"Since when do you cut me off?"
"Since you look like you're about to put your fist through my bar." He'd been tending here since before I could legally drink, and he'd never once cut me off. The fact that he was doing it now told me I looked worse than I thought.
"That bad?"
"Worse." He leaned against the counter. "I take it your plan for reuniting with Maya didn't go so well."
I scoffed, remembering I'd told him about it. Right now, I regretted it. I just wanted to wallow in my own self-pity without commentary. "She's seeing someone."
"Told you that was a possibility."
"Yeah, well. Hearing it and seeing it are different."
"What's he like?"
"Pretty boy. Drives an Audi. Looks at her like she hung the fucking moon."
Keith whistled low. "Man, you fucked up."
I shot him a look.
"Sorry." He held up his hands. "But I mean, look at Maya. She's a bombshell. You really thought she'd wait around?"
"I didn't think about it. That was the problem."
"And now?"
"Now she's even more beautiful than before. Fuller in some places." I stared at my empty glass. "And she gave me an ultimatum I can't wrap my head around."
"What kind of ultimatum?"
"The kind I'm not drunk enough to talk about."
Keith studied me for a moment, then tilted his head toward the corner. "On the bright side, there's a brunette over there who's been eyeing you for the last twenty minutes."
I followed his gaze. The woman at the end of the bar smiled at me. Nice smile. Red lips. She looked like she knew exactly what she wanted.
I felt nothing.
Nothing except Maya's voice in my head. Both or nothing. Both or nothing. Both.
I tore my gaze away and raked my fingers through my hair. Keith had moved down the bar to help another customer, and I was grateful for the space.
Both or nothing. What kind of ultimatum was that? She wanted me to share her with another man. With that pretty-boy Griffin who looked at her like she was already his.
Fuck that. I didn't share. I'd never shared anything that mattered.
But Maya mattered. That was the problem.
And if I was being honest, really honest, the kind of honest you only get at the bottom of a whiskey glass, there was something else.
The way Griffin had stepped up. The way he'd put himself between me and Maya even though he had to know he couldn't take me. That wasn't weakness. That took guts.
I shoved the thought away before I could name it.
* * *
I stood at my apartment window the next night, looking out at the city lights. Thirty-second floor. Corner unit. The kind of view I'd dreamed about when I had nothing.
A year ago, I'd stood at a different window. A shitty studio in a shitty building with a view of the parking lot. Broke. Humiliated. Watching Maya walk away because I couldn't make myself tell her the truth.
I'd called her name a thousand times in my head that year. Never out loud. Out loud would make it real. Out loud would mean admitting I'd become nothing.
Now I had everything back. The job, the money, the view. I'd rebuilt myself from the ground up, worked eighteen-hour days until my body gave out, all so I could deserve her again.
And she was offering me a place in her life. Just not the place I wanted.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. Pride was a hell of a thing. It had cost me Maya once already. Was I really going to let it cost me again?
My phone buzzed. I glanced at it, hoping.
Not Maya. A notification from LinkedIn. Some recruiter wanting to "connect."
I tossed the phone on the couch and grabbed my keys.
* * *
Her name was Meredith. I'd met her at a conference two weeks ago, before Maya, before any of this. She'd given me her card and told me to call her sometime.
So I called. Because maybe Keith was right. Maybe I needed to get Maya out of my system. Maybe a night with a beautiful, uncomplicated woman would reset my brain.
Meredith was already at the restaurant when I arrived, a glass of wine in front of her. She stood when she saw me and smiled. Her dress was blue, cut low enough to make a statement. She knew she looked good. She was right.
"Ivan." She leaned in to kiss my cheek. "I'm glad you called."
"Me too."
We sat. We ordered.
"So." She swirled her wine. "Tell me something about yourself that wasn't on your conference badge."
"Like what?"
"Anything. Hobbies. Dreams. Dark secrets." She smiled. "I'm not picky."
"I ride motorcycles."
"Dangerous."
"That's the point."
She laughed, touching my arm. "I like that. A man who takes risks."
I should have felt something. The touch, the attention, the obvious interest. But all I could think was: Maya would have asked what kind of bike. Maya would have wanted to know how fast I'd gone.
"What about you?" I asked, forcing myself to engage.
"Marketing director at Hendricks & Co. Apartment in the West End. A dog named Bruno who judges all my life choices." She grinned. "Including this dress."
"The dress is fine."
"Fine?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's all I get?"
"It's good. You look good."
Her smile faltered. She could tell something was off.
The food arrived. She told me about her latest campaign, a product launch that had gone viral. She was smart. Funny. Everything I should want.
And the whole time, all I could think was: Maya would have ordered the salmon, not the steak. Maya would have laughed differently at that story. Maya would have called me out for being full of shit instead of playing along.
Maya. Maya. Maya.
"You okay?" Meredith asked, tilting her head. "You seem somewhere else."
"Sorry." I rubbed my jaw. "Long week."
She reached across the table and took my hand. Her fingers were soft. Her nails were painted the same red as her lipstick. Everything about her was polished, put-together, easy.
"We could go back to my place," she said. "Help you relax."
I looked at her. She was everything I should want. Smart, beautiful, interested. No baggage. No boyfriend. No impossible ultimatums.
"I can't."
Her smile faltered. "Oh."
"It's not you. There's someone else. I thought I could do this, but I can't."
"Someone else." She pulled her hand back. "You could have mentioned that before I bought a new dress."
"It's complicated."
"It always is." She studied me. Then she laughed, soft and knowing. "She's a lucky woman. Whoever she is."
"I'm not sure she'd agree."
"Then you'd better fix that."
I paid for dinner and left feeling worse than when I'd arrived.
* * *
The next three days were a special kind of hell.
I went to the gym and pushed myself until my muscles screamed. Two hours on the weights, an hour of cardio, until I could barely stand. Anything to burn out the thoughts.
It didn't work. I'd be mid-rep and suddenly I'd see her face. The way she'd looked at me when she said both or nothing. Not angry. Not pleading. Just certain. She knew what she wanted. She was asking if I wanted it too.
I drove past her house. Told myself it was the scenic route. Her car was in the driveway. Griffin's wasn't. I sat at the stop sign for too long, staring at her front door, before I made myself keep driving.
I downloaded a dating app. Swiped through faces for an hour. Left on everyone. None of them were her.
My mother called on Thursday night.
"You sound terrible," she said instead of hello.
"Thanks, Ma."
"Are you eating?"
"Yes."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"Yeah. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"It's complicated."
She made that sound she always made when she thought I was being an idiot. "Love shouldn't be complicated, Ivan."
"This one is."
"Then uncomplicate it."
"It's not that simple."
"It never is. But life's too short to waste time on pride." She paused. "Is this the same girl? The one you were too stubborn to fight for?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
"Ivan." Her voice softened. "Whatever she's asking for, is it worth losing her again?"
I thought about that question for hours after we hung up.
Friday night, I pulled up Maya's contact. Typed: Can we talk?
Then I stared at it. Three words. I couldn't send three fucking words.
I deleted the message and threw my phone across the room.
* * *
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, and my mind went where I'd been trying not to let it go. To Maya. To what she was probably doing right now. To Griffin's hands on her body.
Don't think about this. Don't.
But I couldn't stop. I imagined him kissing her neck. Running his hands down her sides. Peeling off that little dress she'd been wearing the night I showed up. I imagined her moaning for him, arching into him, saying his name.
My hands clenched in the sheets. This was torture. This was exactly why I couldn't do what she was asking.
Except.
Except the image shifted. I wasn't jealous anymore. I was watching. Watching Griffin spread her legs. Watching him sink inside her. Watching her face when she came.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I tried to push the image away, but it kept coming back. Different angles. Different positions. Maya on her knees with Griffin behind her. Maya riding him while I watched. Maya looking at me while another man fucked her, her eyes dark and wanting, reaching for me.
I was hard. Not despite the images. Because of them.
My hand moved without my permission, sliding beneath the waistband of my boxers. I gripped myself and groaned. This was fucked up. This was so fucked up. But I couldn't stop.
I imagined Griffin's hands on her hips. His cock disappearing inside her. The sounds she'd make. And then, something else. Something I hadn't let myself think about.
Him.
Griffin's body. The muscles I'd noticed under his shirt. The way he'd looked at me that first night with challenge in his eyes. What would it feel like to...
I came so hard I saw stars.
Afterward, I lay there breathless, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened. I'd gotten off to the thought of Maya with another man. I'd gotten off to the thought of the other man, too.
This changed things. I didn't know how yet. But it changed things.
Thirty-two years of knowing exactly who I was. And now this.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up to a text from Meredith.
Had fun the other night despite how it ended. Dinner Friday?
I stared at my phone. This was the easy path. Normal woman. Normal relationship. Normal life. No sharing. No complications. No swallowing my pride and admitting that maybe I wanted things I'd never let myself want before.
I could text her back. Say yes. Move on with my life.
I thought about Maya. The way she'd looked when she said both or nothing. Not an ultimatum. An invitation. She'd opened a door and asked if I was brave enough to walk through it.
I thought about last night. The images I couldn't shake. The way my body had responded to things my mind said I shouldn't want.
I deleted Meredith's text.
Then I pulled up Maya's number and hit call before I could talk myself out of it.