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I deepen the kiss without meaning to—just a shift of my mouth, a tilt of my head—but it changes everything. Heat licks at the edges. The kind we never seem to escape.
His hand fists in the back of my shirt, and for a second, I think he’s going to say fuck it to every promise of space and take me right here on the hardwood.
But then he breaks the kiss with a low groan and presses his forehead to mine.
“We’re gonna burn if we keep doing that,” he mutters.
“I know,” I whisper, still catching my breath. “But I needed it.”
His thumb grazes my lip. “Me too.”
Then he lets me go and I head into his bedroom to retrieve my purse. A text comes through from Kristen while I’m in there, so I take a second to reply.
Kristen:
Amelia! I am on my knees begging you to reconsider the gala. The pianist I lined up has pulled out at the last minute. I’m not even asking for a speech anymore. Just play one piece.
Me:
OMG I have someone for you! She’s a pianist looking for more exposure, and she’s brilliant. I’ll send through her details.
Me:
I’m sorry I’m letting you down, but honestly, you’ll thank me for it because performing on stage gives me stress rashes, and no one wants to see that.
Kristen:
No, don’t apologize! I shouldn’t have begged you again. Not when I know how you feel about performing on stage. Thank you for finding me someone else xx
I’m about to send through the details I promised when a text from James arrives, and god help me, I want to ignore it, but I can’t. Not since he’s the father of my daughter and this could actually just be something about her.
James:
Let me guess, you ran to him after I came over yesterday. Probably had to get on your knees and suck his cock before he’d wipe your tears.
I freeze.
James has never sent me something like this. It feels unhinged.
With shaking hands, I tap out a reply.
Me:
Don’t ever send me filth like that again.
James:
Sweetheart, we all know what kind of filth you like now. And it’s the kind that’s going to make you lose custody of Sarah. You should have thought of that before you decided to fuck him.
Ice cold fear slides down my spine, just like it did yesterday when he came to my home uninvited. My fingers go numb around my phone, the screen blurring slightly as my chest squeezes. It’s not just that those words came from him. Something in him has snapped, and I can’t predict what he’ll do next.
I try to calm my breathing, but it turns shallow and uneven. My stomach churns. I haven’t really slept. Barely eaten. I’m running on adrenaline and frayed nerves from yesterday, and these messages send a jolt of fresh panic through my system.
I fight the rising urge to cry, or scream, to throw my phone across the room. But mostly, I fight the spiral. Because I know how fast it comes. How fast fear becomes worst-case scenarios. How fast anxiety becomes certainty.
Dragging in a shaky breath, I force my feet to move. I need fresh air, and I need to ignore these texts.
I press a hand to my stomach as I walk, trying to think about anything but James.