Page 57

“That works for me.”
“It doesn’t work for me.”
The way he says that with such certainty causes me to slow myself down and pull my brain back into this conversation. “You don’t want sex?”
“Oh, I want it. I also want what goes with it.”
I stare at him, my heart beating loudly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Gage. You need to think about this. We’ve got the girls to consider.”
“Trust me when I tell you I’ve thought about it. I’ve spent two weeks doing nothingbutthinking about it. And as much as I’ve tried to get you out of my head, to put Luna first, I can’t. For the first time in a long fucking time, I want something for myself.”
“You want a relationship?”
“I want to spend time with you. Get to know you. See where that takes us.”
My mind spins, trying to unravel my feelings about this. Trying to think my way through something that has nothing to do with thinking. “Is that why you came here today?”
“No. I came here to make sure you were okay after that photo of us turned into an onslaught of strangers saying shit about you on social media. Kissing you was not in my plan.”
I turn silent. Unsure of everything now. Unable to decide anything.
“I’ll go,” Gage says. “Give you some space to think about what you want.”
“Okay.” My thoughts are in such a mess that I have trouble stringing more words together, so I simply wait for what he does next.
His eyes search mine and I think he’s fighting with himself. He looks conflicted. Reluctant to leave. In the end, he says, “I’ll take care of the photo,” before turning and walking out of the kitchen. The sound of the elevator lets me know when he’sgone, leaving me alone to make sense of everything that just happened.
I have no idea what he meant about taking care of the photo, but I don’t think too much about that. I’m too busy wondering what “space” means to a man like Gage?
This is the third time he’s retreated. Something tells me that next time, he won’t step back. He’ll push.
15
Gage
Shayla:
I’m going to drop Luna’s stuff to you tonight after I have dinner with friends. Is that okay? Or would you prefer I bring it over tomorrow?
Me:
Either works. Whichever is best for you.
Shayla:
I’ll bring it tonight in case she needs any of it before tomorrow.
It seems Blair’s letter to Shayla a week ago did its job. Or maybe it was the argument I had with her. I braced for backlash, but instead, she’s been different. More present with Luna. She had her four nights this week and even called on the others. I don’t remember the last time I saw my little girl smile as much as she has this week.
Just before four on Sunday afternoon, I arrive to collect Luna from the birthday party Shayla dropped her at a couple of hours ago. The private room in this residential tower where the party’s being held has been transformed into a mini art studio. Easels and canvases are scattered around, half-finished masterpieces bursting with color. A table in the corner holds pastel cupcakes, juice in plastic cups, and a spread of kid-friendly snacks.
Luna’s grinning like she’s never been happier. And when I spot Sarah calmly dabbing at her canvas, I scan the room. Because where Sarah is, Amelia’s never far behind.
I spot her standing alone in the corner opposite the food, engrossed with her phone. Quietly keeping to herself while most of the parents are talking in groups. I run my gaze over her, taking in the blue jeans and simple white top she’s wearing. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and fuck if I don’t imagine getting my hands on it.