Page 35 of Only for Tonight

He means it. I can tell by the set of his jaw and the way he holds my gaze without blinking. He genuinely does not care if he walks into a room full of professional football players carrying an infant in a car seat.

Something warm spreads through my chest, and I have to look away before it shows on my face.

“That’s really generous, Alexei. As per usual.”

He sets his mug on the coffee table and turns to face me. The warmth is gone from his expression, replaced by something harder. “I’m far from being generous right now, Ryleigh.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want you working there at all.”

And there it is. The thing I’ve been waiting for—the opinion I knew he had but hadn’t voiced until now. I feel my shoulders stiffen, my walls going up brick by brick.

“That’s not your call.”

“I know it’s not. But you asked what I mean, and I’m telling you.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “You’re smart. You’re capable. You could do anything, and instead you’re—”

“Instead I’m what?” My voice is sharper than I intend. Ella squirms in my arms, sensing the shift. “Walking around half-naked for tips? Yeah, I’m aware. I’ve been aware every single shift for the past year and a half.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“It’s what you were thinking.”

He holds my gaze, and I watch him choose his next words carefully—which is new for him. Alexei usually says exactly what he’s thinking the moment he thinks it. The fact that he’s filtering tells me this matters to him.

“I was going to say that you’re working somewhere that doesn’t deserve you. That’s it.”

The anger in my chest deflates slightly, which is inconvenient because I was gearing up for a real fight, and he just took the wind out of it.

I cross my arms. Look at the floor. Look at him. Look at the floor again.

“Alexei. Last night was . . .” I trail off because how do I finish that sentence? Last night was the best night of my life? Last night was a mistake? Last night was something I want to do again every single night until I die? All of those things are true simultaneously, which seems medically impossible.

“Last night was what?” His voice is careful. He’s watching me the way you watch something that might bolt.

“Amazing,” I say, because lying about it would be pointless. “But my life is a mess right now. Like, an actual, quantifiable disaster. I have a baby I can’t legally claim, no apartment I can go back to, a job that requires me to be topless, and I’m wearing your clothes because most of mine are in a freezing apartment across town. That’s not exactly someone who’s ready for… whatever this is.”

He’s quiet for a second. “Whatever this is?”

My stomach drops. “I don’t know what this is. That’s my point. I can’t be . . . I’m not in a position to be with someone right now. I don’t even know who I am right now.”

The words come out harder than I mean them to, and I watch something flicker across his face—not hurt exactly, but close. He absorbs it the way he absorbs everything, steady and quiet, and I hate that I’m the one putting that look there. But I’d rather set the boundary now than pretend I’m someone who can handle this and fall apart later.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip, leaning against the counter. Calm. Measured. “I’m not asking you to be anything, Ryleigh. I’m not asking you to define this or label it or figure it all out this morning. I just want to be honest about the fact that I care about you. What you do with that is up to you.”

I stare at him. That was . . . not the response I was expecting. I was expecting him to push, to argue, to make some grand declaration that would force me to either give in or run. Instead, he just stood there and gave me room, and somehow that’s worse because now I have no one to fight except myself.

“I can’t quit, Alexei. What would I do for money?” I move Ella to her blanket on the floor and stand, needing space. “And don’t you dare suggest that I keep relying on you. You know I hate it. It makes me feel cheap and useless, and I won’t—”

“Hey.” He stands too, crossing the distance between us. His hands find my shoulders, and he ducks his head to meet my eyes. “You are the opposite of cheap and useless, and you know it. Ninety-nine percent of the women I meet are happy to let me pay their way. You’ve fought me on everything since the night we met: the diapers, the formula, the crib. I practically had to beg you to let me buy groceries.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”