“My…my—” I point at the sleeve, unable to formulate a complete sentence. I want to scream or punch him in the face.
“I’m sorry,” the man says with a mouth full of food. He doesn’t even stop to notice what he has done before he moves through the crowded takeout restaurant and steps onto the even busier sidewalk.
Before I can do anything, Sam notices and comes over, dabbing at the fabric with his napkin. He takes my arm in his hand, staring at me as if he understands how much this jacket cost. It’s not even about the price. I cannot replace vintage Chanel, especially not this particular piece. My mother will kill me. This jacket has been in our family for so many decades that even my grandmother wore this when she was my age. Now, it’s ruined.
“Breathe,” Sam reminds me, and I need the encouragement. “It will be okay. We can have it sent out to our dry cleaner as soon as we get back to the office. I’ll have one of the girls help you out.”
I suck in enough air to get a whiff of cigarettes as two men walk past us, smoking. “We need to leave, Sam.” I shake my head, doing my best to hold back the tears. Having a nervous breakdown in front of everyone in this shop is the last thing I need on a day like today. “I want to stop at the drug store down the street on our way back to your office to grab some club soda. I’ll give that a shot before you waste your time sending this out for laundering. Plus, I have to get going soon so I can tell Carter how much I fucked up and want him back.”
“You really are growing up,” he says with a genuine smile. “The Sydney I know would have ripped that guy a new one over ruining your coat. You didn’t even yell at him. To say your reaction surprised me would be an understatement. I hope it works out with you and this guy. He seems to be having a positive effect on your life. Now, if only he can do the same for your writing.”
Sam collects our trash and escorts me toward the door, making sure no one touches me this time. Once we’re on the street, I am able to breathe easier. But that’s not saying much with the thick scent of exhaust fumes and smoke lingering in my nostrils.
“I wish,” I confess. “My writing has suffered big time since I met Carter. I find myself thinking about him more than I should and at the worst times. The other day, I was sitting at my desk and watching porn, you know for writing purposes, and I started wondering if Carter would want to try out what they were doing on my screen.”
Sam makes a gagging sound as he laughs, holding onto my hand as we cross the street at the light. “I was hoping for something a little more deep and meaningful, and here you’re thinking of dirty things to do with this guy. Maybe your problem is that everything is about sex with you. It’s hard for a man to take a woman as beautiful as you seriously when you’re always talking about sex.”
“I’m a romance author and smut writer, Sam. It’s no different than you talking to a girl about publishing.”
“True…but you could talk about the other aspects of your career and not just the sex. If you make everything—even your job—about sex, a man will only think that way when it comes to you and the relationship.”
“But our relationship started with sex. I took Carter upstairs the first night we met, and we masturbated together.” My body tingles from the thought of Carter and his monster cock and those big strong hands wrapped around it as he jerked himself off while he watched me finger my pussy. It was so hot and intense, unlike anything I ever experienced with another man. We have a connection that I can’t even describe. When we’re in the same room together, it’s as if sparks ignite between us.
Sam chuckles, as he should. Because who does the kind of things I do? People must think I am ridiculous. To some extent, I guess I am. The joke was on me once again.
“Why am I not surprised, Sydney. If you want him back, you will need to make a non-sexual gesture.”
“But I don’t know how to do anything else. You’re killing me, Sam. All my go-to moves are sexual. If I can get him hard and happy, that will give me some time to convince him I’m not so bad.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “You never listen to anyone. Why would I be any different? Even when I send you my notes on your books, you ignore them and pretend that your way is right, as per the usual.”
“I take your notes into consideration all the time, and it’s not like I have a choice. You have final say on everything. Maybe I just don’t like being bossed around by men. I like to do things on my own time and with my own set of rules. Is that so bad?”
He opens the door to the drug store, holding it for me to enter. “No, it’s not a bad thing per say, but you have to bend sometimes. The world does not rotate around you.”
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase, Give someone an inch, and they’ll take a mile. In my experience, that’s what men do when women give into them, and I am not some toy for them to play with. But for you, Sam, I just like to keep you on your toes.”
“That you do,” he says, looking up at the signs for the soda aisle. “Never a dull moment when you are around.”
We finally find the club soda after combing through the shelves and make our way to the front of the store to checkout. The ketchup has already set into the fabric. But I hold out hope that I can get some of it out before having to explain to my mother that I destroyed a collector’s item.
She would’ve had a fit if she saw where we ate lunch. I’m nothing like her, which makes me hate the fact that everyone lumps me into the same category they would with her. Am I rich? Yes, and I will not apologize for being born into wealth. But that doesn’t mean I am above other people or unable to relate. If that were true, my books would be shit, and no one would buy them.
I have an idea, a new plan. If everyone sees a self-entitled princess when they look at me, I need to change their minds. Starting with Carter. Right after I remove this stain.
Chapter 10
Carter
Within a few weeks of telling Jenny she could come for a visit, she was knocking on my door with baby Kyle in her arms and enough suitcases to get them through a month on the pavement next to them. It has been four days since my sister and her son showed up. I had no idea how much work it takes to care for a child until I spent four long days with Kyle crying for his bottle.
This house is far from baby proof, with lots of sharp edges, large furniture to climb onto, and plenty of places to hide. Every minute I’m not at practice or with my trainer, I spend at home with Jenny, helping her run around after Kyle. He keeps both of us on our toes.
Now, I see what Tyler is in for after Kennedy pops out their kid. My best friend will no longer have a life. I’m not even a dad, and I haven’t gotten much sleep or time to myself in the few days spent with Kyle and Jenny. I can only imagine the manswings Tyler will have once he’s going through this day in and day out.
After Kyle wakes up from his nap, Jenny plays with him for a while before she puts him back in his playpen. He’s shaking some toy, laughing to himself and looking over at us periodically as he does this.
Leaning against the armrest of the couch, I smile at him, wondering what it would be like to settle down and have a family like Tyler. I still haven’t processed it all. When Tyler told me about the baby, I was surprised, but at the same time, I wasn’t. He and Kennedy fuck like crazy, and I know how much he hates condoms. Birth control or not that shit isn’t bulletproof.