“I’m going to break your toes, one by one.” He rolls his eyes. “What do you think? I'm going to give you a foot massage.”
No,no.This feels intimate. “Really?”
“I'm full of surprises,” he says dryly.
My feet hurt. My heels have given me a blister or three. A foot massage sounds blissful.
Not blissful,my heart warns. A foot massage soundsdangerous.
Shane lifts my feet into his lap. He removes my shoes and sucks in a breath when he sees my reddened toes. “Why didn’t you take them off?”
“They’re gorgeous shoes,” I reply. “Beauty is painful.”
He gives me a withering look. “Is that how the world works?” His fingers knead the balls of my feet. I rest my head on Theo’s shoulder and surrender to the pleasure. The water quenches my thirst, and the chocolate is delicious. Theo is a reassuring, warm presence, and Shane’s fingers are magic.
I feel cared for.
I freeze. Caring is bad. Being cared for is worse. The last time I felt cared for, Elliott died, and my life was plunged into hell. I’ve learned my lesson. It’s better to keep my heart frozen. I can’t let myself go down this path—letting Theo and Shane care for me, care for them in return, and shatter when they leave.And they will leave.It might not be cancer. They might not die the way Elliott did, but they don't even live on the same continent as me.
If they notice that I’ve gone quiet, they don't say anything. Theo continues to hold me. Shane keeps massaging my feet. “What are churros?” he asks as he works.
“What? You’ve never eaten them before?” How is this possible? Dublin is a major city. I find it impossible to believe there are no churros there. “We’re going to fix this right now.”
I start to get to my feet, but Theo’s grip tightens, and Shane gives me a stern look. “Stay where you are. I’ll grab them.”
He fetches the plate of still-warm churros and waves it under my nose. I have no power to resist. “Eat one,” I insist. “Before I inhale them all.”
He bites into one. “Oh, it’s fried dough.”
I dunk my churro in Liliana’s homemade caramel sauce and hold it out to Theo. He obligingly takes a bite. It leaves a dusting of cinnamon sugar around his lips, and I have to fight the urge to lick it clean. To distract myself, I address Shane. “Fried dough,” I scoff. “That’s like calling the Mona Lisa a painting. This is perfection in dessert form.”
Shane laughs. “Duly noted.” He finishes his churro in two big bites and licks the caramel off his fingers. It’s an impossibly sexy gesture. Fresh desire surges through me. I squirm on Theo’s lap, and his cock responds. For an instant, insanity rules my brain. We don’t have to end this now. We could take the dessert cart upstairs to my bedroom. It has a king-size bed; there’s plenty of room for the three of us. They could fuck my brains out, and we could curl up after—
What the hell, Addie? What the fuck happened to boundaries?
I jump to my feet. “I have to go,” I blurt out. Then I make a dash for it.
11
THEO
What the fuck are you doing, Theo?
I asked myself this question last night when we were negotiating the scenes, and I’d dismissed the conclusions I’d reached. I wanted Addie. I was thinking with my cock, and I couldn’t make myself walk away.
I had dinner with Addie today. We talked about travel and food. I got to know her a little better. She allowed me to hold her for aftercare. If I couldn’t walk away then, where am I now? Fucked. That’s the answer.I’m fucked.
Shane and I don’t talk on Saturday. We don’t see each other Sunday either, not until Catherine’s holiday party. He’s already there when I arrive, in conversation with David, Catherine’s long-time partner.
Catherine greets me with a hug. “It’s good to see you,” she exclaims. “It’s been forever.”
“We saw each other on Thursday,” I point out, offering her the bottle of champagne I’m holding.
“Videoconferencing doesn’t count, and you know it. Come on in. Toss your coat in the spare bedroom, grab a drink, make yourself at home.” She tugs me toward a woman with black hair. “Have you met Mala? Mala Shetty, Theo Keppel. Oh, look, David wants me. You two talk.”
Catherine plays matchmaker with the subtlety of a herd of charging elephants. “Good to meet you,” I say to Mala.
“Likewise.” She shakes her head bemusedly. “Catherine is—”