SOMEONE TO STAY BY VANCOUVER SLEEP CLINIC

  Cat

  Last night, Cynthia sat Chloe down and talked to her about moving back to Boston with me. She was apparently cautiously optimistic. So when my phone rings and Cynthia’s name lights up on the screen, I feel a whoosh of excitement. It’s the end of the day in Paris, which means this is likely Chloe.

  “Hi,” I answer, holding my breath just a bit, nerves dancing in my belly.

  “Hi, Cat.” Chloe sounds equally nervous, her voice softer than normal.

  “How was your day?” I ask, trying to warm up to the conversation I think we’re about to have.

  “It was good. Mom took me shopping for summer clothes.”

  “Nice, heard you guys are going to Greece next week. I’m super jealous.”

  The question apparently settles her, because suddenly the girl is telling me everything they plan to do in Greece. But when she finishes, there’s an awkward pause, and I know it’s my turn to talk.

  “So your mom mentioned she talked to you about maybe coming to Boston to live with me?”

  There’s a long silence, and then some movement and what sounds like a door shutting. “Um, yeah.”

  I bite my lip and twirl the pen in my hand, trying to ease my nerves. “And how do you feel about that?”

  “Good,” she says quickly.

  Good, good? Or…

  God, this is hard.

  “You don’t have to—”

  Chloe interrupts me. “I want to.” She lets out a long breath that crackles down the line. “If you want me there, that is.”

  I blow out a relieved breath. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  “Cool,” she says. “So we go to Greece next week, then it’s only a month until I move back.”

  Wow. In six weeks, she’ll be living here…with me.

  My smile spreads. “Yeah, Chlo. The countdown is on. I can’t wait.”

  I can hear her smile when she replies, “Me too.”

  “Tu me manques,” I whisper.

  “Miss you too. Love you, Cat. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Love you too,” I reply and then set down the phone, my heart feeling lighter than it has in ages.

  Chloe is really moving here. I can’t believe how easy that conversation was. Sliding the mouse, I wake my computer monitor, then navigate to google, ready to search for something to send to Chloe for her trip to Greece. A notification pops up in the corner, letting me know that I have a new email from one of my photographers.

  When I click on it, I’m confronted by yet another photograph of Jay sitting in a restaurant with Grace. Fuck, it hurts. More than it probably should.

  Jay really wants to piss me off. There is no other explanation.

  Or maybe he likes her, my traitorous mind taunts.

  This is all a game to him. It always has been.

  And my brother trusts this woman to set him up with his future wife? The entire thing is insane. Although, any of her choices would be better for my brother than herself—the married woman who used to fuck my ex. And might currently be.

  My stomach twists at the thought.

  It’s a sick game we’re playing. I flaunted Frank, and now Jay is parading around with Grace. And for what? I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to live like this.

  For years, I pushed thoughts of him to the back of my mind, only falling victim to his memory during moments of utter weakness. Yes, he owned my midnights and space in my psyche during sex, when I’d retreat into those memories and envision the one thing that could always bring me to orgasm—Jay sliding in and out of me. Like that first time. When he took my virginity. Images of the way his ice-blue eyes melted for me when he sank into me that first time have always been my undoing.

  I want him in a way that makes no sense. I can’t stand to look at him. Can’t stand to talk to him. And certainly can’t stand to fucking work for him.

  Yet right now, I’m doing just that. Watching the prick of a man as he waltzes past my office door. He offers me his signature smirk when he catches sight of me and stops at the threshold. “Morning, Kitten,” he says, rapping on the doorframe twice, “how was your night?”

  I glower at him. “Not as good as yours.”

  His brows draw together, like he’s working out a puzzle and can’t quite figure out the last piece. Good. That’s how I like him to feel. Confused. Thrown off. I don’t like when he can read me…when he knows my thoughts before I voice them.

  “Frank leave you dissatisfied?” he teases with a smirk. “I’m happy to take over going forward.”

  I grunt out a sigh. Why do I engage with him? “Go away. Better yet, go bother Grace if you’re looking for someone to entertain you.”

  “Why are you mad at me? You’re the one who doesn’t want her with Cash. I’m doing you a favor.”

  What? How the hell does he know I don’t want her with Cash? Ah, that fucking man has been listening to my conversations. It’s bad enough he’s been watching me on video. I didn’t realize he also had sound.

  I huff out a sigh. “Very funny, Jay.”

  He smiles, fucking smiles, in response to my frustration. “Thanks. I’ve been told I make people laugh.”

  “At you, Jay. They’re laughing at you.”

  He shoots me a cool glare. “You’re the one who said you don’t want to be with me.”

  A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “I don’t.”

  “So what do you care if I’m with Grace?” He tilts his head and scrutinizes me, as if he’s genuinely curious.

  I spin in my chair and look out the window. He really has no idea what seeing her again has done to me. Each photo sends me back to that apartment in Paris. Where I stood, my hand resting on my stomach, and read that article about Jonathan Hanson and his new girlfriend.

  The woman my brother is now infatuated with. The woman who took my place in Jay’s heart. No, that’s not possible, because I never held that spot to begin with. And the sight of her is like salt in that wound.

  “I don’t,” I bite back, keeping my attention trained on the horizon.

  “Can we talk?” he murmurs. He’s closer now.

  Finally, I turn back to him and steel my spine. “No” is all I can choke out. I stand and grab my purse from my desk, but Jay grabs for me before I can get by him. With one hand on my arm, he holds me in place.

  He angles close so his breath is warm against my ear. “I’m not sure what you want from me. Do you want me to leave you alone? Are you—are you happy with Frank?” he grits out. “Because fuck, Cat, right now, it seems like you’re jealous of something you say you don’t want.”

  I huff out an annoyed laugh and pull back. “I’m not jealous.”

  He scowls and shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me. “Give me one hour to explain everything. In one hour, I can clear everything up.”

  “In an hour,” I scoff.

  “It’s not what you think, Cat.”

  Piercing blue eyes the same color as our daughter’s implore me to listen. Beg me to give him the time to make us right. Something itches at my brain, scratching until I can’t ignore it. The way my grandfather looked at me all those years ago, as if he was trying to convey a message. Just like Jay is now.

  The way he spoke, as if he didn’t really believe the words he was saying when he said Jay had betrayed me. And for a moment, I second-guess everything over the last thirteen years.

  It never felt right.

  But just as quickly, those devastating blue eyes bring me back to reality.

  And the ice settles back around my heart.

  Chloe.

  Even if things aren’t exactly as they seemed, even if Jay could somehow explain himself, would it matter?

  No.

  My main focus has to be Chloe. No matter what. Jay doesn’t matter. The past doesn’t matter. My feelings don’t matter.

  “I’m not jealous. Date Grace, don’t date Grace. Do whatever the fuck you want. None of it matters to me,” I say as forcefully as I can. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to get to.”

  “Research?” he says softly, his brows pulling together.

  Why do I always do this? Just as I get a conversation all but wrapped up, I give him one more tidbit to grasp on to. I sigh. “Yes, I’m going to the club tonight.”

  Jay growls, and his irises go a steely blue. “That’s not safe.”

  “Frank is coming with me.” I lift my chin in defiance. It’s not true, but it’s enough to keep him from following me.

  Lightning quick, Jay’s hand drops from my arm. The twinge of desperation I feel to reach out to him makes me want to stab myself in the eye.

  Looking past me, he straightens and turns to the door. “Right,” he says over his shoulder. “I hope you two have a good night.”

  Like a fool, all I want to do is holler that I’m kidding. That I didn’t mean it. Tell him that nothing but a series of meaningless hookups connects me to Frank, but why do I care what Jay believes? And why would I want to console him with that truth?

  “It’s been a while since the last time I did this kind of thing. What exactly does one wear to a sex club?” I ask Sophie as we sort through a rack of clothes in Dex’s workroom.

  Dex shakes his head and cocks a brow at his wife. “You told her,” he mutters.

  She shrugs. “Ten years, Dex. I kept a secret from my best friend for ten years. You should be proud.”

  Thankfully, he responds with a chuckle.

  “God, why can’t I find a Dex!” I whine.

  He slides behind me and gives me a hug. “There’s plenty of me to share,” he teases.

  Sophie grins and bounces on her toes. “Can we go with her tonight?”

  Dex straightens behind me, and I spin, catching sight of one of his infamous glares. It takes a lot for him to get angry. The man is always smiling, so it’s obvious that idea isn’t sitting well with him. That’s their thing. And I totally get it. I actually love it about him. That he’s so possessive of her that he wants to be the only one experiencing that with her.

  “No,” I say so he doesn’t have to. “I want to do this on my own. It’d be weird being there with my old married friends.”

  Sophie’s eyes grow wide. “Did you just call me old?”

  I laugh. “We’re the same age.”

  “She called me old,” Dex says, squeezing me again and plopping a kiss on my cheek.

  “I need to take it all in, really sit back and watch. And if you’re there, I’ll be too busy wanting to point things out, and you know we’ll end up off topic.”

  She laughs. “True, there’s so much to gawk at.”

  A whoosh of excitement tumbles through my belly. I’ve been to a sex club a total of one time in my life, and that was years ago. I don’t know what to expect tonight.

  Once I’m dressed in the outfit Sophie insisted I wear, she hollers after me, “Oh, I left something on your desk. For the story.”

  I turn back and smile. “I’ll grab it on my way out. Wish me luck.”

  Downstairs, the office is empty. It’s after eight, and everyone is long gone for the day. My day, on the other hand, is far from over. I only have a few weeks until Chloe moves back to the states. In that time, I need to get this promotion. Then I pray that Jay will stay out of my day-to-day life.

  I need to work on an explanation my family will buy about why Chloe is moving in with me.

  I need to…

  Grow up.

  Because moms don’t belong in sex clubs on weeknights. Moms belong at home with their kids.

  My life is going to look very different, very soon.

  I really need to get my shit in order.

  With a hand on the light switch, I turn back to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. That’s when I catch sight of the small black box on my desk. Sophie’s gift. The small piece of cardstock on top reads:

  For tonight. Enjoy.

  I laugh to myself. What did she do?

  I slide the top of the box open and press my lips together as I study the two gold balls. I think I know what to do with them. But…should I?

  Fuck it. My life is changing in the near future. Six weeks, to be exact. I’m going to enjoy myself while I can.

  22

  ALREADY GONE BY SLEEPING AT LAST

  Jay

  I didn’t have to buy every club in the city like Beckett suggested. Somehow, I knew she’d walk into this one.

  The previous owners had done plenty of updates in the years since I was last here, but the name remained the same. I’ll change that next week. For tonight, I’m sitting in the owner’s suite at Rebel, watching the camera trained on the front door, waiting for my kitten to make an appearance. The whiskey in my hand is a must—its effects will hopefully temper the feelings I’ll no doubt experience when she walks in with Frank.

  And Gavin is sitting by my side to make sure I don’t kill the man when he does step inside with her.

  It fucking stings that she’s with Frank. He’s known her longer than I have. They mean something to each other.

  The women I’ve been seen with, photographed with, linked to, since we broke up, have meant nothing to me. Each one was a means to an end.

  But Frank…he’s her brother’s best friend…that has to mean something.

  “Do you think I should trade Vaughn?” Gavin asks without looking up from his phone.

  “No idea.”

  “What about Rivers? He wasn’t great last year.”

  With my eyes still locked on the monitor, I shrug. “If you want.”

  “You aren’t even paying attention to me. Rivers was fucking phenomenal last year! He’s my best player.” Gavin laughs.

  I take another sip of my drink, unable to muster even an ounce of the humor he’s using. “Sorry. Can’t focus on anything but what I’m going to do when she walks in here.”

  “Which is why I’m talking about hockey. It’s been a while since we played. You need it.”

  Finally, I glance in his direction. My friend’s face is etched with worry as he scrutinizes me. I run my hand across my forehead. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

  “If she shows up with the best friend, we’re leaving,” he deadpans.

  “Not happening.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he grits out. It’s the same thing he and all my other friends have asked me for years. None of them have settled down. None have been in love. Maybe one day they’ll understand, but for now, there’s no point in even justifying my reasoning.

  It’s like explaining division to a toddler. The guys would have to understand the basics first. Comprehend what it feels like to love a person so wholeheartedly. See how much easier, brighter, more enjoyable life is because that person is in the world.

  Then they’d have to suffer. Lose it all and live in darkness. Exist in a place where they’d do anything to claw their way out. But my friends, they’ve always lived in the shadows. They’ve never experienced the true warmth of the sun. And without that, how could they fathom the lengths a person would go to in order to get it back?

  Anything. I’d do fucking anything to get back to how I felt when Cat was mine.

  Even sit and wait for her to walk in with another man. One she’ll likely go home with at the end of the night.

  I suck in a breath when she finally walks in. And my heart races when no one follows her.

  My cock twitches at the memory of the last time she walked into this club.

  The chase. The rush. The taste of her on my fingers.

  “That.” I point to the screen. “That’s why I’m doing this. Because for that woman, I’d do just about anything.”

  Gavin quirks a brow. “There’s something you wouldn’t do?”

  I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, let her go. You can leave now. I’ll be good.”

  Gavin stands and buttons his jacket. “You sure?”

  I don’t bother with a response. My attention is focused solely on the woman on the screen. “Oh Kitten,” I growl, rubbing a thumb along the smooth edge of the remote in my hand. “I’ve got you all to myself tonight.”

  It’s playtime.

  23

  WAR OF HEARTS BY RUELLE

  Cat

  The club is not what I remembered at all.

  The lights are low, but it lacks the red glow that gave the place a sexier vibe when I was here years ago. The dance floor is to the side rather than in the center. The couches in the corners are tired and sagging.

  But I didn’t come to explore this room—the club space. No, I’m headed to the second floor.

  As I turn toward the elevator, my body jolts, and I have to slap a palm against the wall to steady myself. What the hell? It’s barely noticeable, but the balls I slid inside myself an hour ago are vibrating lightly, and the sensation is making it hard to breathe.

  “Shit,” I mutter, biting down on my lip hard. I can’t believe Sophie would do this to me. Strike that. Actually, I can. That sick bitch. And yet…

  It feels so fucking good.

  Blowing out a breath and trying to focus on my surroundings, I press the button to go upstairs. I want to explore what’s up there more than I did five minutes ago. That hint of sensation vibrating through me has my body wound tight.

  Desperate.

  My phone buzzes as I slide into the elevator. Once the doors close in front of me, I take it from my bag, expecting to see a text from Sophie.

  Unknown: Ready to play a game?

  I frown but jolt again when the intensity of the vibrations increases a notch or two. Practically panting, I blink a few times before leaning against the cool stainless-steel wall of the elevator.

  Who is this?

  The door opens, and the buzzing inside my body stops. Before me, a man stands at a velvet rope. He takes one look at me and moves it aside. “Ms. Bouvier?”

  I jolt in surprise. I haven’t used that name in years. As a fuck-you to Jay, though I’d never admit that aloud, I started using James again after Chloe was born.