Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Scott and I met up once for lunch, and it was a stilted and awkward occasion. We managed some polite talk, but had very little to say to each other. “You’ve changed,” he said finally, though he avoided his usual judgmental tone.
I was silent for long moments before I finally said, “I think I’ve gone back to being myself.”
He didn’t even try to bring up the idea of us getting back together. My emotional distance must have been unavoidably obvious, even to him. Or maybe he’s starting to get better at paying attention.
It would be one of life’s little ironies, I suppose, if me leaving Scott helped him become the kind of man I wouldn’t want to leave—in some alternate universe where my men didn’t exist.
I can’t stop thinking of them as mine. I can’t stop thinking of them, period.
The only thing that stops me from taking the next plane to Vegas is knowing that we can’t go on the way we have been. I can’t be happy if they’re not happy, and ultimately, they’ll have a better life without me.
I try to make plans; they used to be my superpower. How I’ll tell the men it’s over, and how I’ll help train a replacement before I quit my job with Clare, because there’s no way I can stay in Vegas and stay away from the men. But the plans won’t come. It’s like trying to thread an invisible needle, impossible to bring into focus.
Every day, it gets harder to be away from them, until one night I’m in my old bedroom, eyeing my suitcase and wondering if I can catch a red-eye this evening.
When my mom taps at my door, I’m momentarily startled. She’s been leaving me to brood for the most part, baking fresh bread and making some of my old comfort foods, but I’ve been bracing for her to stage an intervention.
I don’t expect what she does say, though. “There’s someone here to see you.”
I sit up, frowning. “Who is it?”
“He says his name is Art Gilchrist.”
I’m even more puzzled now. I don’t think I know anyone by that name, though it sounds vaguely familiar. I follow my mother out to the living room, where a man in expensively casual clothing is lounging on the sofa.
He bounces to his feet to greet me. “Lexy, hi. Art Gilchrist. Is it okay if I call you Lexy?” His smile is too practiced, his confidence too smooth. My brain blares a warning: show business.
I’m so confused by his presence that I don’t correct him on my name. “Um, sure. What’s this about?”
“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute; I apologize for dropping in like this. Is it okay if we talk in here?” he asks my mother, and she takes the hint and excuses herself to the kitchen.
I sit on the opposite end of the sofa from him. My brain’s had time to add two and two, so instead of letting him launch a spiel at me, I take the initiative. “You’re the producer. For the reality show.”
His smile is wide, his teeth perfectly white. It’s disturbing. “That’s right. The network has got big plans, which is why I wanted to talk to you. You see, Lexy—” he leans forward, his tone confidential “—there’s an exciting new concept for this show.”
“Oh?”
“That’s right. It’s going to be more than the tattoos—it’ll be a dating show also. Sort of a Tattooed Bachelor, if you get my drift.”
My stomach threatens to deposit my dinner all over his fancy threads. “I see.”
“It can’t work if the guys aren’t single.” He hasn’t lost the smile, though at least his unnatural teeth aren’t visible anymore. “Oh, I meant to say we’re bringing Thorn in, too. We’ll have some shows that include him and his cooking, with an eye to giving him his own show next season.”
Message received. Hands off all of them. Of course, he doesn’t know that I could never date just one of them, any more than I could pick just one molecule of air to breathe.
I want to punch Art Gilchrist right in his perfect mouth, but he’s done me one favor: I know now that I can’t go back to Las Vegas, not even for a little while.
All the men’s plans, their dreams of expanding their business, of Kai opening his gallery, of them doing more to benefit the community—the money from this new show will finance all of it. It will be so good for them, and enable them to do so much good for others.
How can I stand in the way of that?
The thought of them dating other women, marrying them, makes me want to scream and break things. But they deserve that, if they want it. They deserve their stardom, their success, and they’ll use it for good, because that’s the kind of men they are.