Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
KIT
W ell, that was something.
My sexy bubble bath enchantment—dubbed “Blissful Bubble of Trouble” in the Crystal Bliss app—definitely wasn’t.
Sexy or blissful, I mean.
The guest was a pretty Swede with kind, brown eyes and a soft voice. At least until she started shouting.
“I don’t see why he didn’t want me!” She took a swig of champagne to punctuate bursts of anger as I held her in the sudsy tub. “I’m a nice person.”
“You are,” I agreed, prying the flute from her hand and setting it safely on the rim of the tub. “And passionate. And smart. And?—”
“So why didn’t Nils want me?”
Having never met Nils, I didn’t have answers.
But I do have a psych degree, so I gave it my best shot.
“Nils’s rejection isn’t a reflection on you. It’s all about Nils , and whatever he feels like he’s lacking.” I might’ve sounded wiser if I hadn’t been naked and covered in suds. “There’s some crucial hole he’s trying to fill, and it was never your duty to fill it.”
My guest craned her neck to peer up at me, her pretty brown eyes filled with tears. “But I filled all his holes. We got into pegging and?—”
“Um, that’s fantastic.” God help me. “Not what I meant.”
In the end, we skipped any fooling around. She told me she’d rather just cuddle. We talked for an hour and I made her a grilled cheese sandwich. There wasn’t quite time to squeeze in a massage, but I gave her a foot rub while curled on the couch together.
“You’re nice to talk to,” she said as we sat together eating our snack. “I promise to leave you a nice review. I like that you listen.”
“You’re great, too,” I said, doing my best not to think about Eve. How easy our conversation flows. “An amazing lady.”
But she’s no Eve. I know that’s a dick thing to think. I shouldn’t get hung up imagining one woman while spending time with another.
But I can’t seem to help it.
Eve’s filled my thoughts for nearly two weeks. Even before I realized she’d be here, I kept replaying our night together. Instead of diminishing my desire, spending time with Eve has only intensified it.
As I walk to my room ensconced in a cloud of rose-scented bubble bath, I pull out my Crystal Bliss pager.
Room 24: Dinner date request.
Eve.
I’m smiling before I get my key in the lock. Looks like she thought about me today, too.
Pushing through the door to my room, I double-check the time she requested. Her dinner reservation is for seven, but she made the request nearly two hours ago. That must’ve been after she got off the boat.
I know from reviewing this morning’s assignments that she went on the catamaran trip with Nico and Logan.
Good guys, both of them. Did she have sex with either one?
Picturing it doesn’t make me jealous. Not exactly.
I’m mostly intrigued. Curious. Titillated, I suppose.
That’s noteworthy.
More than anything else, I want to know Eve’s having fun. That she’s getting what she needs from this experience. Healing or passion or a brand-new direction. And I hope I’ve contributed at least a little.
Having Eve in my life has brought sunshine and smiles and positive vibes I’d forgotten. A chance to be me —not Dr. Plier. Not the grieving son or the too-distant brother. Not the nerdy shrink who takes life too seriously. Not even just a sex worker.
I’m all of those guys. Every single one of them is a part of me.
And for the first time ever, I feel like somebody accepts that. Eve seems to like spending time with me for more than my cock or my academic pedigree. She likes me for me .
Which is handy, since I’m pretty fond of her.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I set down my Crystal Bliss pager. When I pick up my personal phone, I see three more missed calls from Camille.
Dammit.
Well, I’ve got time now. Might as well see what she needs.
“Hey,” I say when she answers. “What’s up?”
“Kit, oh my God. Where have you been?”
“Working.” I pry off the top of my beer and flop on the couch in the spot where the AC blows hardest. “What’s wrong?”
“Can’t I just call to see how you are?”
No way she called all those times to catch up. “I’m good. What’s wrong?”
My sister grumbles. “You’re making it difficult to ease into this gently.”
The back of my neck starts to prickle. “You’re the one who left eight gazillion messages. If that’s your idea of gentle, I feel sorry for Hayden.”
“Ha. I’ll have you know Hayden thinks I give fantastic hand jobs. Not too rough, not too wimpy.”
“Jesus.” I didn’t need that mental picture. “What’s going on, Cam?”
“Fine, I’ll just say it.” My sister takes a breath. “Miranda’s getting married.”
“Huh?” I must’ve heard wrong. It sounded like Miranda’s getting married. “I think we have a bad connection.”
“We don’t, Kit. You heard right.” Her voice thickens with sympathy. “Your ex-girlfriend who swore off marriage forever is getting hitched in May.”
All the breath leaves my lungs. It feels like somebody’s slugged me in the gut. “Married?”
“To some guy she’s been dating, I guess. A rugby player? I didn’t get details.”
She goes on to explain how she saw Miranda at some fancy hotel in Portland. As my sister drones on, I dissociate.
Miranda’s getting married?
Getting married to somebody else.
It’s not that I’m jealous. I don’t love her anymore, not even a little.
We weren’t right for each other. I’m one hundred percent sure that’s true. It’s a goddamn gift that it didn’t work out.
And yet…
Why did she say yes to him when she swore up and down that she couldn’t say yes to me?
“It’s the principle of the thing.” She sounded so pragmatic when she turned down my proposal. “I believe marriage is a patriarchal institution meant to suppress women and perpetuate the misguided belief that monogamous pairings are a natural thing. Don’t you agree?”
I didn’t.
I did see her point, and I fumbled to find middle ground.
But there’s really no compromising when one person sees forever and the other sees…well, a trap.
“Kit?” My sister’s voice shakes me back to our call. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” That’s the best I can do at the moment. “I’m happy for her.”
“Are you?”
I check in with myself, searching for joy. Mostly, I’m numb. “I’m going to be.”
“Okay.” My sister sounds edgy. “There’s something else. Something I didn’t tell Eve or Sara.”
“Eve?” I choke on the mouthful of beer I just gulped. Coughing, I manage to squeeze out the question. “Eve knows?”
“About Miranda getting married? Yeah, I gossip with my girlfriends. I hope that’s okay.” She pauses. “Sorry, Kit. I forget sometimes that you hooked up with Eve. I’m used to assuming my friends don’t know you, and I figured you probably won’t see each other again.”
“It’s fine.” My voice sounds raspy from breathing in beer. “What is the other news?”
“Okay, um. Miranda didn’t actually tell me this. I guess that means it’s not officially confirmed, so?—”
“Camille.”
“Right.” She draws a deep breath. “Miranda’s pregnant.”
Pregnant.
This blow lands harder. More like a knife than a punch to the gut. It’s a sharp, piercing pain like the harsh words she spoke long ago. This was maybe ten months before my failed proposal.
“I don’t ever want kids.” She stacked her books in a box, cool and composed as she packed for her new job in Liverpool. “You’ve known that from the start.”
“We discussed it when we were teenagers.” I felt like a fool for thinking things might have changed. “I was hoping we could open the discussion again.”
“Never means never.” She looked at me sadly, shaking her head. “What part of never doesn’t make sense?”
This part.
The part where I learn my ex-girlfriend is getting married and having a baby. Two things she vehemently swore she’d never do, and she’s doing them with someone else.
Clearing my throat, I come back to my call with Camille. “You’re sure? I can’t picture Miranda blurting out something like that.”
“Yes.” She lets out a long breath. “She ran to the restroom while I waited for my Uber. Her mom and I made awkward small talk, and it just slipped out.”
“How the fuck does a pregnancy announcement slip out?”
“You know how her mom is. She said, ‘I peed every ten minutes when I was pregnant with her.’ Something like that.”
“Jesus.” That tracks. Miranda’s mother has a big mouth.
“She tried to backpedal,” Camille continues. “But she ended up begging me not to say anything.”
“Which you ignored, obviously.”
“Only with my friends,” she says. “Not with you.”
“I appreciate it.” I don’t, though. I mean, I’m glad Camille told me. Better to find out from her than seeing the news somewhere else.
But that doesn’t make it easier to know.
All this time I’ve been able to believe Miranda and I wanted different things. That we simply had different visions for the future. I wanted someone to grow old with, laugh with, and love forever. Miranda didn’t.
Except it turns out she did want those things. I just wasn’t the guy she saw as equipped to provide it.
“I guess she changed her mind,” my sister says feebly.
“Yep.”
My heart starts to pound as my fist grips the beer bottle tighter. All along, I was the problem. The albatross around Miranda’s neck. The burden tying her down to a stifling life.
“Kit? Say something.” My sister sounds worried. “What are you feeling?”
“Frustrated.” She’s a shrink so she’ll know if I fake like I’m fine. “Confused. Annoyed.”
I avoid saying angry or hurt . That sounds like I still love Miranda, but that’s not it at all.
For the last several days, I’ve started to picture a future with Eve. That seems unbearably selfish now.
Eve puts everyone else first. She’s hardwired to throw her own needs on the fire to keep everyone else warm.
If we got together, I’d just steal her heat. I’d suck all the fun and the joy from her life, just like I did with Miranda. I’d tie us both down and sink us like a goddamn anchor.
Camille’s still stuck on the feelings I’ve voiced. “Frustration and confusion are normal, healthy emotions when faced with?—”
“I have to go.”
“Kit, wait.”
But I’m already ending the call. I set down the phone, then pick up my Crystal Bliss pager. I stare at the name on the screen. At Eve’s enticement to join her for dinner. Presumably more.
I loved the idea ten minutes ago. A chance to connect and hear how her day went. To hold hands and laugh over dinner. To share rich desserts and spicy details from our enchantments today. To tumble into bed for sex that’s rooted in deeper connection.
But if I say yes right now, I’ll keep saying yes. So will Eve, that’s her nature. She’s kind and obliging and so very wired to seek normal. To seek settled .
I can’t let her do that. Can’t let her settle for me.
Hesitating with my finger poised on my screen, I stare at the option to accept or reject the enchantment. A stark, red icon glows beside a bright green one.
No.
Yes.
What’s the right choice?
My stomach churns gritty and sour. My palms start to sweat and my heartbeat thumps dully in my ears.
Swallowing hard, I tap the one word I feel in this moment.
Reject.
The app flashes a question: Are you sure?
I’m not sure. Not one tiny bit.
But I draw a deep breath and click yes anyway.
* * *
It’s nearing sundown when I go for a walk on the beach. I don’t have a destination in mind. I just need to clear my head, though it’s not really helping. I’ve been walking for almost three hours.
Sunset casts ribbons of bright pink and red on the water as two crimson macaws soar overhead, their blue and gold wings catching faint wisps of light. Waves lick the shore by my feet as a ripple of laughter floats down from the resort.
I glance at the restaurant above, spotting the table where Eve and I ate that first night. There’s a woman there with three muscle-bound consorts, and I’m weirdly relieved it’s not Eve.
Then a bright peal of laughter rings out and I turn toward the edge of the bar. There, in a strapless red dress with her hair floating loose on her shoulders, sits Eve. She’s with Logan, the guy from her boat cruise. The consort I think is a super-nice guy, so why am I balling my hands into fists?
I could have been with her tonight. It might’ve been me making her laugh like that.
It’s my own fault I’m not.
Fuck it.
It’s better this way. Eve deserves to be happy, and I…
Well. I’m not the guy to give her that. I’m not what Eve needs.
I now know for sure what I only suspected when Miranda left. I’m not the kind of guy who’s wired to please someone long term. I’m the guy who drags partners down.
Eve’s carefree laugh, her entire experience at Crystal Bliss—that’s what her life has been missing. She wouldn’t get those things tied down to me. Stuck with a guy who takes life too seriously.
Pivoting toward the sea, I turn my back on Eve and Logan. I move down the beach, hands still clenched at my sides. I’ve already marched this pale path of sand five or six times this evening. My heart drums my ears as prickly bits of driftwood stab the soles of my feet.
“You okay?” a female voice calls out.
I jerk to a stop and see Sybil on her deck overlooking the ocean. Kora’s beside her and waves her own greeting.
“I’m good.” I drag a hand through my hair and try to look like a guy not coming apart at the seams. “Just taking a walk.”
Sybil holds up a bottle of wine. “Join us. I’ll grab another glass.”
“No, thanks.” I need to be alone right now.
“Ashton Holyfield was looking for you earlier,” Kora calls. “Something about a guest review that mentioned a therapy session. A bubble bath or—Topher?” She must see something in my face. “He wasn’t accusing you of anything.”
Sybil chuckles beside her. “What, like turning a sexy bubble bath into a weepy psychotherapy session? Pretty sure he didn’t do that .”
She says it like a joke, but that’s exactly what happened. I took something fun and made it a miserable experience.
Just like I’d do to Eve’s life. I’d suck all the joy out of her, just like her ex did. Just like I did to Miranda.
“Topher?” Sybil tilts her head. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yep.”
The women exchange a quick glance. When they look back at me, I feel itchy and judged.
Kora speaks first. “I noticed you turned down a dinner request.”
Eve.
She doesn’t say Eve, and neither do I. We’re dancing around this, aren’t we?
“I had plans.” A stupid response, since it’s pretty damn clear my plans involve pacing. “I needed to be by myself.”
“I get that,” says Sybil, nodding at Kora. “We saw her earlier and she seemed kind of upset you said no.”
Kora frowns. “I’m sure she’s fine now.”
She’s way more than fine. She’s laughing and carefree with a guy who won’t turn dinner into a dumping ground for sad stories about exes. I seriously did that, didn’t I?
Kora studies my face just a little too long. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, well—” She exchanges a look with her wife. “Have a good night.”
“Same to you.”
I resume my march toward my room, up the stairs, and across the pool deck. My bare feet slap cobblestones, stinging my soles and my calves. I meant to grab my shoes at the edge of the beach, but it’s the least of my concerns now.
When I turn at the path that leads to The Chateau, I stop dead in my tracks. “Eve?”
She’s sitting on the ground with her back to the building, knees pulled up to her chest. Her red dress hugs her ankles and knees, anchored in place by her elbows. As her eyes lift to mine, she unfolds her body and gets to her feet.
“Kit,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”
I’m so tired of that question. “I’m fine.”
“I noticed you pacing the beach.”
“Where’s Logan?” I glance around but don’t see the guy.
“Back at the restaurant. I told him I needed a minute.” She puts a hand on the stucco, balancing there as she slips on her shoes. Then she comes down the steps like someone approaching a feral dog. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting,” she says, “but I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” That didn’t sound convincing. “I needed some time to myself.”
“Is that why you turned down my dinner invite?”
“I—yes.”
She searches my face, then nods. “Have you talked to Camille?”
So that’s what this is about. “I know about Miranda getting married.”
Eve flinches at my sharpness. “How are you handling it?”
“Fine.” If I say fine one more time, I’m punching myself in the junk. “It’s none of my business, is it?”
“I just thought—” She presses her lips together, choosing her words with care. “If it were me, I’d probably have feelings about Brock getting married.”
“Yeah, well…I’m not you.”
She flinches again. “Okay,” she says softly, and I feel like an asshole. “Um, I guess it’s good you’re not upset?”
My lack of an answer should prompt her retreat, but it doesn’t. She’s too fucking kind, too considerate of others.
“I hate the thought of you stewing on this,” she says. “Maybe you need a distraction.”
A fucking distraction? Is she offering to blow me?
Even the thought makes me feel like the worst kind of asshole.
“You’ve been so kind to do that for me,” she continues, like I’m not mentally beating my head on the side of the building. “What if we kayaked tomorrow?”
“Kayak.” It sounds like a foreign word.
“Yes, kayak.” Her green eyes search mine as she desperately tries to connect. “I saw an enchantment in the app where you paddle to one of the smaller islands. They’ll pack you a picnic and?—”
“And you fuck on the beach?” When she flinches again, I know I’ve taken it too far.
But that’s why I have to keep going. If I don’t end this now, she’ll spin herself senseless making sure I’m okay. She’ll forget that this journey is meant to be hers.
“Look, Eve. I’ve had a lot of fun with you.”
Her expression changes, those sea glass eyes growing dim. “Why does this sound like you’re breaking up with me?”
“We’re not together. You and me, I mean.”
“I know what you meant.” Her chin tilts up. “I know you’re not my boyfriend Kit.” She spits out the word like it tastes bad. “But I thought we connected. I’ve liked feeling safe and empowered through this sexual self-discovery. You’ve given me that, Kit. I—” Her throat rolls as she swallows. “I thought you enjoyed it, too.”
“I did.” But that’s all the more reason we can’t get attached. “It’s a temporary arrangement, Eve. A job I came here to do.”
There’s a clench in her jaw like she’s doing her best not to cry. “So you didn’t feel it? Any connection at all?”
I can’t answer that. Not if I’m trying to end this. “This isn’t about me. You’re here to get over your ex. I’m here for a job.”
Tears fill her eyes but she’s blinking them back. Trying her best not to make me feel bad with her sorrow. “I’d hoped we could try being more. That we could see where this goes once we leave here.”
I’d hoped the same thing. That’s exactly why I need to cut her loose. “We got too close, Eve. It’s not healthy. We’re not moving on if you’re just recreating another relationship.”
“I’m not—” Her voice gets smaller and so does she. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
She darts a glance toward the restaurant where Logan waits at her table. She’s worried she’s hurting his feelings. That he’s back at their table, thinking he said something wrong.
I know that’s not true, but Eve’s empathetic. She can’t be selfish. It’s not in her nature. I know this like I know the contours of her body. The soft sounds she makes right before she unravels.
So I keep going.
“Go sleep with Logan, Eve. Have sex with every consort here and learn what you need to about your own sexual needs.”
“I already have.” She says it so softly I almost don’t hear.
“Slept with Logan.” I figured as much. “Good. That’s?—”
“I meant that I’ve figured out what I need.” She’s sounding impatient now.
Another strong sign she’ll do better without me. Here she is in fucking paradise, and she’s stuck squabbling with me.
Time to make sure we can’t go back.
I slip out my pager and toggle to the consort dashboard. “I’m adjusting my settings, so you won’t be able to request me again.”
“What?”
“Trust me, it’s better this way.” I tap a few keys, and there. It’s done. “You’ll get to explore, and I’ll be free to?—”
“Keep convincing yourself there’s something wrong with you because your ex didn’t want you?” Eve’s jaw clenches. “Is that what’s happening now?”
“Don’t play shrink with me, Eve. Stay in your own lane.”
It’s cruel and uncalled for and I watch as the words land like punches.
“Fine.” Her fingers make air-quotes, so maybe she’s mocking me now. “You’re fine . Everything’s fine. Your stupid decision is fine .”
My chest aches like someone’s standing on it. I’m dying to say I don’t mean it. To wrap her in my arms and apologize for being an asshole.
But because I’m an asshole, I can’t keep Eve in my life. She deserves so much better. “I wish you the best, Eve.” With somebody capable of giving it. “Have a nice life.”
She stares for so long I’m not sure she heard me. “You, too, Topher .”
Eve turns on her heel and strides down the path toward the beach. I watch her go, memorizing the curve of her waist. The sheen of her hair in the moonlight. The vanilla-orange scent of her trailing the breeze.
I stare until Eve disappears behind a cluster of palm trees.
As she exits my life forever.