Page 61 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

Sora

Daphne sits in stunned silence on my living room couch. My best friend being quiet is already unnerving enough, but the way her brows are pinched in perplexity has me vibrating with nerves. My whole arrangement with Forrest didn’t seem that ridiculous…until I admitted it to someone out loud.

After Forrest saw the texts from Rina, like the emotionally mature man he is, he talked to me about it.

He didn’t want to go on the date that most definitely would end in something physical.

But Dakota’s school tuition is due, and apparently, still pissed about Forrest ruining their plans for boarding school, Hannah’s boyfriend didn’t pay their share this month.

Not to mention, Rina gave Forrest a clear ultimatum. Start working, or find a new job.

Line cook or entry-level customer service are probably Forrest’s only options until he manages to pay his dues to the law firm he’s indebted to.

And we both know those jobs aren’t enough to make ends meet.

Even if I had a million dollars to offer to him, he wouldn’t accept.

Providing for Dakota is something Forrest takes personally.

It’s not my place to tell him how to do that.

Which is why I stupidly agreed to babysit Koda tonight while her dad whisks some other woman off her feet… into bed.

Untucking my legs, I poke Daphne’s knee through her teal, terrycloth sweatpants. “Please say something,” I beg.

“It’s all still marinating,” Daphne answers as she pours herself another glass of wine, the dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “So run me through this again… Forrest is an escort.”

“Correct.”

“You met him at the wedding and then paid him to go home with you, except you didn’t have sex. But wanting to make sure you got your money’s worth, he pretended to be your boyfriend and went to the book signing.”

I blink. “Right.”

“Then even before bumping uglies, you decided to move him and his daughter into your dad’s brownstone indefinitely in exchange for him acting out sexy romance fantasies with you?”

“They’re not all sexy…just like—” I exhale. “Fine. Also, correct.”

“And you’ve since been playing house, spending time with his daughter, banging like bunnies, and you’re telling me you’re surprised you fell for him?” She pauses, raising an eyebrow theatrically, her big eyes widening for effect.

Now I miss her silence a little. “A little…”

“And now the big hitch in your giddyup is that Forrest is currently out with another woman—excuse me, I mean client—while you’re sitting at home, sulking and watching his daughter overnight.”

“Yes, Daphne, based on the line-by-line reiteration you just provided, you have an impressive grip on the story,” I snark before burying my face in my hands.

I sink deeper into the couch cushions, hoping they might swallow me whole.

The plush velvet of Dad’s expensive sofa—my sofa now—feels like it’s absorbing more than just my body weight.

It’s soaking up my shame, my confusion, my heartache.

Dakota’s small pink bunny slipper is wedged between the cushions.

It must’ve fallen off when I carried her to bed an hour ago.

I can’t remember if she still has the other one on, tucked underneath her Disney princess comforter.

“I forgot to brush Dakota’s teeth,” I mumble, picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow clutched against my chest. “I suck at the bedtime routine. Forrest always does it. He never misses a step.”

Daphne leans forward, her blond hair falling in a curtain around her face as she squeezes my shoulders. “Her teeth won’t fall out from missing one night… Sora, babes, what the hell were you thinking letting him go tonight?”

“I wasn’t,” I admit, clutching the throw pillow tighter, like armor against her justified incredulity.

“I was just trying to be supportive.” It sounds ridiculous coming out of my mouth.

Let me support you right into the legs of another woman.

“I’ll admit, I had some prejudices about what he does, but then I got to know him, and everybody has a story.

The how, the why…it all makes sense. Forrest’s story isn’t about some playboy getting paid to take his clothes off, it’s a dad enduring whatever he has to for his daughter.

But his focus isn’t on giving Dakota a glamorous life, it’s about raising her to be a good person.

He’s had to make a lot of sacrifices for that. ”

The wine bottle sits half-empty between us on the coffee table, a silent witness to my unraveling. As usual, I’ve barely touched my glass. I thought the painful ache in my chest and gut-wrenching twists in my stomach might make liquid numbing more appealing, but I think I’m too sad to drink.

Outside, a taxi honks, the sound muffled by the brownstone’s thick walls. The clock on the mantel ticks relentlessly, each second marking another moment Forrest is with someone else.

“Oh, honey.” Daphne’s expression softens as she scooches closer, the leather of the couch creaking beneath her.

She wraps an arm around my shoulders, her familiar perfume—something with vanilla and spice—enveloping me.

“I’m sorry. It’s a lot to process. I think for once I don’t have anything helpful to offer.

On one hand, seeing you like this, I want to rip his head off.

On the other, I can kind of understand where you guys are, and why. I’m just a little unsettled by it.”

“Join the club.” I laugh, but it comes out hollow, echoing in the quiet living room. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Ya think?” Daphne rolls her eyes, the gesture so quintessentially her that it almost makes me smile. “Instead you let me believe he was some financial wizard you snagged at a wedding. I didn’t realize he’s a single dad selling his body to the highest bidder.”

“Daphne,” I hiss, though her bluntness is exactly why I love her. “It’s not like that. He doesn’t sleep with everyone.” I don’t think? “Look, it’s all just complicated.”

“Complicated?” Daphne snorts, tucking one leg beneath her as she settles back into the couch. “Girl, our senior calculus final was complicated. This is a whole new zip code of disaster.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. Leave it to Daphne to find the perfect imagery for my catastrophe.

“So what are you going to do?” she asks, her voice gentler now, tracing the rim of her wineglass with a manicured finger. “I mean, about tonight and…everything.”

“What can I do? I signed up for this. I don’t have the right to demand he change his entire life for me.”

“Maybe not,” Daphne says carefully, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with maternal tenderness. “But you have the right to decide what you can live with.”

My fingers trace the pattern on the throw pillow, following the loops and swirls like they might lead me somewhere better than here.

The fireplace emits a gentle, electric glow, a poor substitute for real flames but warming nonetheless.

The shadows it casts dance across the wall, a choreography of light and dark that mimics the war in my heart.

“I can’t live with this,” I admit, barely above a whisper.

“The thought of him with someone else—” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat.

“It’s killing me, Daph. I keep imagining it—his hands on someone else, his lips, his body.

I keep wondering if he likes it. If he’s gentle with them the way he is with me.

If he says the same things. If he means them. ”

“Did you tell him that?” she asks, her fingers now making small, comforting circles on my knee.

“No.” I shake my head, causing a tear to escape and slide down my cheek. I brush it away angrily. “How could I? ‘Hey, I know we’re not officially dating, but could you give up your livelihood because I’m jealous?’ I’d sound like every possessive, controlling girlfriend cliché in the book.”

“Or maybe you’d sound like someone who knows her own boundaries.

Someone who values herself enough to ask for what she needs.

” Daphne takes my hands in hers, her skin warm against my cold fingers.

“Look, I’ve watched you shrink yourself for years.

Take up less space. Apologize for existing.

Shrivel under every single trollish criticism.

But, Sora, this isn’t about controlling him.

It’s about being honest with yourself. This is your life.

You need to live it in a way you won’t regret.

That means silencing some things, but roaring others into existence.

You’ll get more out of life the very minute you decide you deserve more. ”

The truth of her words hits me like a physical blow. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be small enough not to inconvenience anyone, flexible enough to bend around other people’s needs without breaking. I’ve made an art form out of accommodating.

“What if honesty costs me everything?” I whisper, voicing my deepest fear.

The words hang heavy with implication. There’s always the chance that everything I’m feeling between me and Forrest was fabricated.

He promised me book-worthy moments. And I got them.

But were they just stories? Are his feelings for me fiction or fact?

“What if dishonesty costs you yourself?” Daphne counters, her gaze unflinching. “Besides, this isn’t just about Forrest anymore, is it? It’s about Dakota too.”

At the mention of Dakota’s name, my chest tightens. Her sweet face appears in my mind—that tiny-toothed smile, those eyes that light up when I enter a room. The way she called me “Mommy” by accident, the memory still fresh enough to make my heart ache with a mixture of joy and terror.

“I think I love her too,” I say simply, the words inadequate to express the depth of feeling that’s developed in such a short time. “I wasn’t prepared for that. For how fast it happened.”