Page 51 of Beautifully Ruined

“Nope.” I grin. “I didn’t want to listen to you cry longer than I had to. I know how lonely you get without me here.”

“Tears of joy.”

“Definitely, tears of sadness.”

We work through the day, and when Vi comes back from her trip to her campus, I go upstairs to greet her and take in her expression of the packed bags. I kept an eye on her the whole time as I worked, noting her stops at different political offices big and small on her list.

Vi’s eyes glitter as she glances at me, hands on hips. “Is this your way of kicking me out?”

I laugh and wrap my arms around her, kissing her. “No. It’s my way of telling you we can go back to my loft.” Then I force myself to say the rest. “Or you can go back to your place in a few days. I’m having that upgraded, as much as I can without major construction.”

“Okay.”

We get a car back to my loft where I can do whatever the fuck I want with.

All the upgrades, including doors that’ll probably take a bazooka to blow off the hinges, have been installed without a fuss. My door and the one downstairs.

Personally, I’d love to have twenty-four-hour guards, but camera systems, my own CCTV, are all smarter choices. I do have security, but the rotation is random. An erratic schedule makes it harder for an intruder.

And I have cameras.

Anyone coming after Vi will need to be a literal ghost not to be seen.

When we walk in, I set the bags down, and she looks around.

Signs of the struggle are gone.

The bed has been changed, too. My weekly cleaning service did the job perfectly.

I know. I watched.

The fridge is stocked, and I order in pizza for us, after asking what Vi would prefer.

But as we eat and sip at wine, it feels…not quite right.

Like a distance has popped up, one full of sharp corners and things that bump clumsily against the other. Like that distance is, at once, stretched tight and squished in close quarters.

I’m not sure why.

Maybe she doesn’t want to stay with me like this, a protracted time that doesn’t seem to end, and even though I told her she has the option of going back home, it is just too much flapping in the wind without a set date pinning it down.

I don’t fucking know.

So, I go out of my way to be accommodating, watching her for clues to what it is she wants.

Shit, all I’ve done is force her into a world of being with me, Cade.

There’s nothing fantasy about that, is there?

For a moment, I breathe slowly, carefully.

I haven’t been pursuing any of her fantasies. Sure, I’m still recovering, but that isn’t why. Not fully.

I’m up for the fucking about we did at Enzo’s, but I didn’t make it bigger. Partly because he was there.

If I’m brutally honest, I fingered her in front of him, so holding back isn’t an issue.

So, what the fuck is it?