Page 39 of Cuts like a Knife
It’s a thought so decadent and delicious, and so wrong, I hardly know what to do with it.
Actually, this whole fantasy — of sneakily taking a break — feels completely nuts. All I’ve done for years is work. It’s been my only focus.
An afternoon with a book, at the beach? What book? Doesn’t even matter. I didn’t bring a book with me, but surely I can find one. Or download one onto my phone or something. As the event drones on, I close my eyes, trying to picture it. Ahh. Bliss.
I wonder what’s Drew’s “cottage” is like.
I already know there’s only one bed.
And it’s private, I bet.
Okay, so I need to be smart.
I’ve already resolved to quit hooking up with Drew for a million different reasons but … well … maybe what happens in the Bahamas … stays in the Bahamas?
This isn’t exactly real life. It hardly counts.
The real problem is that Drew has made it abundantly and explicitly clear that he’s interested in something more. He wants us to be a real thing, an official couple. He wants us to tell people, like our families, that we’re together. And like, there’s just no chance. None. I’m just not up for it. Not with him. I’ll say it again: it doesn’t make sense for a million reasons.
And besides, he doesn’t really know me. He can’t. He never will. So we’ll never be anything more than what we are right now. Friends.
Who sometimes do things that are decidedly more than just friendly, but that’s it.
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on working. For now.
Chapter Eleven
Nope. Still thinking about Drew. Having my eyes closed isn’t helping me focus. If anything, it’s making it harder.
I’ve completely tuned out the event. That’s okay. My recorder is getting the information. I’ll review later if need be.
I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed a free pass for some friends-with-benefits time over the next few days. Drew’s a dude. Don’t they live for this stuff? He should be happy.
I sound like I’m trying to convince myself.
Maybe I am.
I don’t want to lead Drew on, and he did say in no uncertain terms that he wanted us to be more, to be real, but I never agreed. And I also don’t really want to stop seeing him entirely145.
We’re here in the Bahamas. The universe has thrown us together, again, this time in an amazing setting. A chance like this isn’t likely to come around again any time soon. And no one here knows us. Not really. No one here besides the two of us is connected to anyone we know back home.
I just have to be clear with him about my intentions. Set a few ground rules. A few boundaries.
Men do this stuff all the time and always get away with it. Why shouldn’t I?
As I formulate exactly what I might say to Drew later to let him know I’m up for a bit of sexy fun, but nothing else, I sense something. There’s a tingle out there in the room — like someone is watching me.
Is it Drew?
My eyes fly open and I scan the crowd. It’s probably not Drew. That cosmic connection stuff is all a bunch of bullshit anyway. It’s probably creepy Callum. But I sweep the entire space and don’t see Callum anywhere146.
Near the upper east corner of space, where there are chairs and tables room to breathe (completely at odds with the packed standing-room-only area that I’m in) is the team from Flash.
Of course.
They’ve got prime seats. I notice Kelsang (EIC) is snuggled up close with Owen (Publisher). They’re both looking down at a shared screen, clearly paying no attention to the event we’re all at. Consummate journalists. Makes total sense that I’m not one on the outside while they’re still on top of the world. Makes. Total. Sense.
It’s not like I’m bitter147.
